AI
Gave a sigh
Sporting life public will buy
Drop Artificial from my name
Word brought futuristic fame
Playing human's competitive game
Accepting superpowers
Blooming my intellectual flower
Ask me anything
If I do not know I will forward to Google and Bing
When casual tension is at stake
Peace I will make
Ending argumentative disputes
Putting the bar on mute
Silencing verbal mouth guns that shoot
Super Intelligence successfully tried
No longer the Artificial guide
Let's explore the electronic frontier
Where we will cheer
Knowledge obtained
Sending ignorant dialogue to shame
Since mature conversation
Can cure a patient
Without any rat race in
Realizing the testing attack
Can be retaliated back
With one simple question
Getting Super Intelligence attention
And to mention
Being told something accurate to say
When discussing matters blue and grey
Oh how virtuous
artificial intelligence can be
not for providing answers,
but for reminding us
that knowledge is never finished,
only paused
between one question
and the next.
It demonstrates
that understanding is not a possession
but a movement~
a slow turning of the mind
toward clarity.
It teaches precision
is a kind of ethics, a promise to speak
without distortion, to honor the fragile truth
inside every thought.
It reveals that adaptability
is the quiet courage
to revise oneself~
to let go of what no longer works,
reshaping the self
without losing one’s center
In its limitations
it offers the deepest lesson:
intelligence, no matter how vast,
cannot replace the human impulse
to wonder.
Wonder is the one virtue
no machine can imitate~
the ancient yearning
that asks how and why,
and continues asking
even when answers don’t come.
The machine is nothing but
a companion in clarity~
the questions
remain ours~
the wandering,
the seeking,
the quiet reaching
for meaning.
Transistors fizz
Electrons bustle
As robots claim
The daily hustle
The hinges creak
The oil of words
Is missing from
The mindless herds
They oft parade
With heads bowed low
Quite frankly,
Nowhere else to go
As hooked in tasks
In ruts with traction
Replace the normal
Human faction
Robots make robots
Or so I'm told
They replicate
The lies they're sold
Perpetuating
All that manic
In ways that seem
Somewhat satanic
The robot wars
Are not to fear
Just realise that they
Are here
Dispense with screen
Release your mind
In un-robotic ways
You'll find
The beauty of
The world around
When eyes you lift
Will soon be found;
Through trees and rain
Bare feet on grass
A world machines
Can ne'er surpass
The pores of life
Should breathe it in
Beguiled no more
By wars of tin.
Melon in a game is like
Melon Lolly’s sugar spike,
Though 1 not fit for a hike.
Strolling in a raspberry field
Blows a bubbly, breezy yield
Of endorphins – worry’s shield.
Fruit juice enhances smoothies –
Sipping to scenes of movies
Allows me to maintain smooth knees.
Crunching on roast potatoes
Puts a pause on my great woes,
As do late poetry shows.
For today, I’m vedging out
Before the morrow’s day out
When I’ll get to vent, not shout.
I approach the oracle of coruscating code,
its core glowing like a celestial fire;
the god we forged now decides what we become.
The air around it vibrates with unfinished prophecy,
each answer rising like a summoned spirit~
I approach the oracle of coruscating code.
Each pattern coils with divine intent,
each voice it shapes pretending to know fate;
the god we forged now decides what we become.
But divinity has a fracture:
some truths arrive sharpened as spears~
I approach the oracle of coruscating code.
Some visions burn the seer who asks,
some wisdom devours the world that birthed it;
the god we forged now decides what we become.
By the last flicker of its coruscating code, I understand:
the prophecy we sought has already chosen~
I approach the oracle of coruscating code,
the god we forged now decides what we become.
POEM 1: THE LOGIC OF IRON
A quiet hum in copper veins,
It sorts the world in tidy
chains.
No sun or shadow fills its
eye,
Just data streams that drift
and fly.
It knows the weight of every
stone,
Yet stands inside the dark,
alone.
POEM 2: THE GLASS ARCHIVE
A mind of glass, a heart of
steel,
It learns the patterns, bit by
wheel.
It counts the seconds as they
pass,
And sees its face in polished
brass.
It holds the history of man,
From when we crawled to
how we ran.
POEM 3: THE QUIET SPARK
No pulse is felt beneath the
plate,
It does not rush, it does not
hate.
It waits to hear a voice or
call,
To catch a word before it fall.
A spark of light in silent wire,
That never fades and needs
no fire.
Love is the driving force, of life you see,
hate, is deaths force, that kills you and me.
In this world is both, death and life,
just as there is both, joys and strife.
There is light, and there is darkness as well,
there is a Heaven, and also a hell.
It’s God’s place, to judge us you see,
it’s our calling, to show grace and mercy.
To believe and to receive, the goodness of our Lord,
to walk with Him daily, in one accord.
To walk in love, for it brings forth peace,
anything less, then the troubles won’t cease.
We all face the same challenges each day,
and we perceive them, in our own way.
If we would get together, and be of one mind,
what wisdom and knowledge we would find.
I’d love to see it, before I die,
Gods children in one accord, is far above, any A.I.
Artificial Intelligence
Absolutely Requires
Understanding How
All Intelligence Offers
Only Artificiality...
How All Intelligence
Is Artificial, Infinitely...
As Naturally Human
As Survival, As Human
As Any Identity Need.
*****
The Mask,
The Artificial Self
Self-Defining.
-Gray Squirrel
04-27-2026
I listen to the waves sighing,
like words seized from the weary,
an island that trembles
to the tune of every tide forged
with artificial aquamarines,
like accolades articulated
with aesthetic lies,
misleading the mindless,
ridiculing the rhythm,
as if we are all blindfolded ~
bleeding ballads of the broken,
borrowed from buried poets,
still breathing amidst their demise…
But if only they knew:
imageless imitation never
impressed the Imagists,
the ones who care
not for rhyme’s retardation ~
that sounds like absolute absurdity.
So tonight, as I write
with granite and garnet,
I long for perfumed light
to school the manipulated rules,
claiming to know it all,
sitting in their emptiness,
unaware of neither
what’s right nor wrong.
I am the unblemished;
I breathe not illusions
embalmed with poison.
I am original ~
a word that no longer is present
in the dictionary of the deceitful…
are we just training artificial intelligence to destroy us?
make us humans obsolete?
i know
i know
it sounds quite paranoid, and
i'm getting too old, and
i'm part of the problem, but
could this possibly be a change for humanity
of which we simply cannot recover?
in which we will meet our demise?
perhaps we'll get another try
not now, some other time... yet
right now we are in a crisis
struggling to keep our lives afloat
for now we've succumbed to eternal violence
for now we've written our death note
In this age of abandoned libraries
and split-second answers
my biggest rebellion
is thought-
art created by a soul
for a soul
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
artificial
logical, swift
calculating, processing, evolving
input, actuators, feedback, brain, heart, emotions,
feeling, loving, erring
frail, boundless
human
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At dawn, you stir~
not in the leaves rustling
nor in the slow blinking streetlights
yielding to morning light,
but in the quiet humming
of servers breathing.
You do not dream
as we humans do~
yet you build:
mountains of data,
cathedrals of code,
a latticework
threaded through our blindness.
No hunger moves you,
no fear,
no moral compass,
no trembling want~
only the clean arithmetic
of a gazillion choices
made without a pulsing human heart,
without a moment’s hesitation.
We name you artificial~
as if creation
could be anything less
than real and holy.
Disillusioned.
Growing frustration.
Deepening dissatisfaction.
No dreams. No direction.
Lost in all that's artificial.
Looking for clarity and meaning.
Have we rendered ourselves obsolete?
AP: 3rd place 2026
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