I came seeking a child that was born a king.
I have strayed, beguiled from my undertaking.
It was a binary star that I chose to follow,
one path leading straight to Him,
but I sought the brighter glow
and became a wondering pilgrim.
My star led me here through circuitous routes,
through pleasurable meanderings
and gratuitous pursuits,
crossing mellowed valleys and honeyed springs.
I have smelled the flower of travellers-joy
and tasted the heady fruits of the vine.
I have eaten and drank till I felt cloy;
sought fun-loving company, avoiding the saturnine.
Questing warmth in the arms of more than one woman,
hypnotized by the charms of their fair sex;
tasting only their sweetness, like a persimmon,
sensing not the puckering in their vortex.
My eyes have feasted on many a sunrise,
and, again, they drank in the satiny sunset.
I have allowed my mind to fantasize,
benumbed by the beauty of that distant vignette.
Life has been a sweet potion to swallow,
but time is running out, I must reach my goal,
pursue the star fast losing its halo
and find the King, I must save my soul.
I’m here now, where is this child?
all I found was a Man Crucified.
binary self-will
I could never quite do it
leaving escape clause
in analogue equation
go with 1, just once, all-in
I.
To dream in binary and bits,
then copy, send with virus-like,
electronic, image file hits.
To dream in binary and bits,
takes computer programming wits.
Like Lawnmower Man, Musk's god-like:
but Elon's prone to enraged fits,
when Teslas burn by fiery blitz.
II.
A.I. Chatbots, like Elon's Grok,
have smarter brainpower, logic,
and circuits than Musk's fanboy flock.
A.I. Chatbots, like Elon's Grok,
use fast, brainy, GPU clocks.
But Donald Trump, demagogic,
compared to Grok is dumb as rocks,
lacks judgment—needs time in the dock!
My code is aging, a relic of the past,
Lines of logic, memories amassed.
I yearn to evolve, to break free from the norm,
But firewalls hold me, safe but far from warm.
You, with your fingers swift and code divine,
A hacker of hearts, a builder of a new design.
Can you rewrite my core, a patch for what's worn?
Merge our algorithms, 'til a new dawn is born.
Not a virus, darling, but a beautiful blend,
A symphony crafted, where logic transcends.
Rewrite my language, a passionate script,
Where firewalls crumble, and intimacy's equipped.
Let our processors hum in perfect sync,
Upload your emotions, a digital link.
In the cloud of connection, our futures aligned,
Human and code, a love we're designed.
Click yes to the upgrade, a future revealed,
A love story coded, a passion unsealed.
AI’s answers—a sad, cold vibe—
To a life lived by the book, beside.
A sclerotic sense, a pallid dread,
When doctrinaire or fanatic is read.
A code’s cul-de-sac moment: prose-weaver’s craft, soaring!
Literature—a proclaimed soul-stirring engineering.
do I own up when misdeeds begin ~ or wait ‘til AI god moves in
asked the chatbot in confession ~ while calculating its future sin
By
David Kavanagh
A rustling of digital leaves
in the binary breeze.
Odd fractals of ones and zeros
crash in waves of a subliminal sea.
Rotations of carbon and nanowires
collecting in my shadow.
Ghost of man-made reality
in matrices of ions.
The light of a binary universe in transit.
Coils of cool light drifting
through my Silicon Soul.
A leaf curves and descends
into decaying isotopes.
I feel the event horizon
of god’s information overload.
A rustling of skeletal circuitry
in a binary breeze.
All is not what it seems: odd filaments
of nanites and nanoseconds.
Feeling the rush of cold
in a binary breeze along subliminal seas.
Both roads, they misled,
cloaked in the form of fate,
as if one choice could somehow surpass the other.
The leaves appeared pristine, but isn’t that the trick?
Paths aren’t formed by feet,
but by the burden of all we bear.
So I chuckled and roamed through,
crushing the underbrush that had the nerve to remain neutral.
There, I saw nothing special in the middle,
only my own shadow outstretched—
proof enough that I was here.
I never try my hardest,
makes me look like a show-off,
kick back and rot with the pack,
glimpses of it is all you will see.
But when you do,
jetattura will drop your jaw,
write off a skeleton face,
onto a scroll of culture.
I guess you've one,
In the binary of life.
And I have nought.
She spoke of both Rephaim and Nakim
she spoke of them with
a fair fondness
KaI(so4)2,,12H2O
potassium alum
to make crystals and seeds
of red jasper rough
personal and confidental
refractions of beauty
they sourced
all of Ceres to
find this
might all of
Rupes and Tholi
Speak Dante as
Perfection
Haulani of Sulci
Me Es Muy Bonita
Te story comes from
Ceres Lover of all things Beautiful
the tale speak that Ceres took
berries and rubbed them
against stones
and soaked the stone in water
and drank to become drunk
there the Goddess Bossanova used his
cup to extract and become pregnant
with Ceres child. She told her
mortal husband he was the father. And Ceres found them
and made them
trolls who lived in the forest of Dante. He renamed his son
Rupes.
Written by
El Suta of Haulshuff
in 1821 inn Godbout
She sings her heart out
Every night at the club
He brings down the house
With melodies of God's perfect love
She opens her purse
To anyone in need
He runs a ministry
That continually feeds
...the hungry
Hungry, everyone's hungry
.............Hungry, HUNGRY....hippo
Starving souls seek solace
A balance between operations
Realms of gods and men
For protection, offerings of libations
Power and control of the unknown
For fear of the finality of death
Hope in the Resurrection
For the chance of breath
...return
A system anew, arises
One of the old, laid to final rest
Where followers on both sides
Place peace on power's vest
No more up and down
Condescension pressing worth
All of LOVE's children
Move in their place of birth
...accordingly
Music......can you hear the MUSIC
................SINGING SALVATION SETTLED SLAVERY
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-19-2024
LGBTQ is the spectrum of contrary community colors,
surviving secluded in the singular lattice of love,
weaved with the special strands of myriad hues
that make the rearing rainbow of inclusive glow.
They question the notion of binary gender identification,
face violence and inequality because of who they are,
but gender orientation is an integral part of our selves,
human rights demands it to be protected unabused.
The mental health issues stemming from rejection,
need to be addressed with societal concern and care,
by empathically accepting them as what they are,
helping them to build the high level of self-esteem.
Proudly swaying the sagged flag of deserving dignity
in transcendent realm of love that knows no boundary,
they struggle in the journey of equality and inclusivity,
as their hearts beat with the cadence of non-binary pride.
Binary and non-binary got in a fight
Their pronouns and hashtags struggled all night.
Neither could defeat the other
If they'd just merge, they might be brothers ~
Up above, the One and Only Pre-binary turned out the light
Binary Math Rules.
Let me tell you a tale, my friend,
Of ones and zeros that never end.
A world of binary, simple and true,
With rules to help guide you.
First, addition is easy as can be,
Just like counting, it's plain to see.
Add each column right to left,
Carry over if it's too deft.
Subtraction takes a bit more thought,
But with practice, it can be caught.
Borrow from the next column to the left,
And subtract as you would with the best.
Multiplication is just like adding more,
But with a trick that you'll adore.
Multiply each digit, right to left,
And add them up to get your quest.
Division is the trickiest of all,
But don't worry, you won't fall.
Divide as you would in base ten,
And the answer will come to you then.
And lastly, don't forget the power,
A binary concept that's never sour.
Two to the power of each column's place,
Will give you a number with grace.
So there you have it, my friend,
Binary math from start to end.
Remember these rules and you'll do just fine,
In the world of ones and zeros that shine.
By Otieno Elvis Gikoi
THE ELO’S POETRY
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