Eulogy to Mechanical Men

[Merfyn Dafydd]

I was thinking of recent world events which have impacted me a little more than usual.  For what it's worth, this came out last night:

Eulogy to Mechanical Men
 
Arms move violently,
Storm against the sky,
Precious futility,
Gently whispers by,
Motionless, breathless,
Bound to contemplate,
Just why we’re born,
From they who love to hate.
 
Terrified and impaled,
By motion of the burn,
Clockwork set irreversibly,
Now begins to churn,
Wrapped in a transient timepiece,
Sand sealed against the glass,
Moved from square to square,
Pawns begin assembling in mass.
 
Teetering on Occam’s edge,
Soulfulness despite,
Living in subliminal sin,
Each knowing what is right,
Talk of transformation,
A distraction from the pain,
Arms taken far too quick,
Fooled by those who want to gain.
 
Bloated cycles broken steadfast,
By tangled unity,
The erosion fueled vestiges,
The remnants of humanity,
All bound in singular voice,
Proclaiming fate is far too late,
Yet the answer never comes,
Why we’re born,
From they who love to hate.

[Leanne]

The use of "arms" as your first word is a clever choice, straight away giving us the benefit of multiple meanings of the word. That opens the poem right up and invites the reader to actually read instead of being dictated to. I do think your poem would be improved by a regular meter or at least consistent stresses (accentual verse), but it's certainly not too big a detraction. There are occasionally overused lines, those with too much vagary and abstraction ("distraction from the pain") and some don't quite go together, like the notion of being impaled followed by a burn -- this doesn't really work unless it's a poem about barbecuing Also, "arms taken far too quick" sets my grammar alarm off, as does "bloated cycles broken steadfast".

I like the introduction of Occam's razor but I'm not convinced that its application is drawn clearly enough here. I do, however, really enjoy the bookends of "why we're born/ from they who love to hate" (except for the grammar!).

There is much to like here and I suspect that most of the issues will be ironed out on editing.

[billy]

for me it was a little over powering. lots of good in the poem, the first two lines encapsulate anger well, and the first line is powerful and creates interest for the reader. from there the 2nd line stanza weakens more than a lot. [the 2nd line is more than a good image and carries good ambiguity. not sure precious and futility go well together. the poem feels current and has a feel of hopelessness about it. the overpowering parts were the intangibles

I was thinking of recent world events which have impacted me a little more than usual.  For what it's worth, this came out last night:

Eulogy to Mechanical Men
 
Arms move violently,
Storm against the sky,
Precious futility,
Gently whispers by,
Motionless, breathless,
Bound to contemplate,
Just why we’re born,
From they who love to hate.
 
Terrified and impaled,
By motion of the burn,
Clockwork set irreversibly, a suggestion would be [irreversible clockwork]
Now begins to churn, now or begins feels redundant, either could stay or go
Wrapped in a transient timepiece,
Sand sealed against the glass,
Moved from square to square,
Pawns begin assembling in mass. is the 2nd begin needed?
 
Teetering on Occam’s edge,
Soulfulness despite,
Living in subliminal sin,
Each knowing what is right,
Talk of transformation,
A distraction from the pain,
Arms taken far too quick,
Fooled by those who want to gain.
 
Bloated cycles broken steadfast,
By tangled unity,
The erosion fueled vestiges,
The remnants of humanity,
All bound in singular voice,
Proclaiming fate is far too late,
Yet the answer never comes,
Why we’re born,
From they who love to hate.

[xyroph]

The picture you're painting here seems sort of stilted and vague in the beginning, just getting little vignettes of imagery. I understand that it's symbolic but I'm having trouble reaching the precise meaning of it(this easily reflects my reading style, not necessarily your writing style). But that feeling of inconsistence is really reflective of the content of the writing: something taking shape. I think it really picks up a few stanzas in, and flows very well from there. The imagery is simply beautiful throughout the piece

"Precious futility,
Gently whispers by"  I'm wondering what you mean here, is futility fading? One's will and purpose becoming stronger? These words are pretty but what do they mean?
 
"Terrified and impaled,
By motion of the burn" 
Are you referring to the burn of a lightening strike? The imagery is lovely on its own but I don't see how the beginning of this stanza relates to the previous one. 

"Wrapped in a transient timepiece,
Sand sealed against the glass,  Beautiful imagery here, love this bit
Moved from square to square,
Pawns begin assembling in mass."  With this line, the piece seems to be gathering momentum and taking shape.