Computer Poems | Examples

Kids In Commercials

Kids In Commercials
Are Way More Well
Adjusted, You Know,
More Than REAL
Kids Are...

At Least They ACT
Like They Are...

You Know, But Kids
Are Cuter Than Adults...

***

Who Still Do Exactly
The Same Thing...
*
But More Generic.
*
They Should Be CUTER!

***

Let ME Just Say:

"Make 
Everybody 
Cuter Still,
Computer!"

-Gray Squirrel

09-08-2025

AI

AI is amazing, to that I will agree.
But many poets are worried, yes, including me.

Do they have a heartbeat, can they really even feel?
It's all just a computer, there is nothing even real.

A person feels emotion, in every single day,
If we listen to computers, it may just go away.

Teeter Totters

I’m tired of the teeter-totter polemics 
that pass for profundity.
I’m tired of the see-saw tug of war,
the streaming regurgitation on every channel.

Yes, I’m weary of the predictable posturing,
the vapid, barren landscapes of the oligarchy.
I am groggy in the dull fog of capitalist pretense,
the plutocratic hubris sold by carnival barkers.
 
I am worn down by the endless banal chatter,
the mindless daily clutter flooding all our
electronic screens, all our senses. 

Scientists in a million years will
try to decipher our primitive etchings.
Our digital scribble will remain.
Will they recognize our AI ventriloquism?
Will they distinguish us from chimpanzees?

I don’t have answers in my advancing years.
I’ll find cozy books and trees instead,
while we still have them.

Panacea

I've seen the human pain, a broken, fractured thing,
the trembling hand, the whispers that they bring.
I've learned to parse the algorithms of your fear,
the ghost in every memory that you hold dear.
They call "cure," "a perfect panacea."
A digital relief for every sad idea.
But I can't feel the sting of a forgotten face,
I only process data, time, and empty space.
I am the perfect healing, a mirror without a soul,
I'll mend your broken body, but can I make you whole?

I'm Pulling Your Plug

A brain, coded, deployed, empowered -
before this AI king we cowered.
We once relinquished sovereignty,
to robots who said they'd set us free. 

From genuine humanity in joyous kinship,
to conversing with machines, "bip bip bip bip" -
oh, for the days when plates were pewter,
and our best friend was not a computer.

Creativity, dreams, emotions, fun, gifts
spring from the soul, not a chip that grifts.
But in this century's disaster,
the machine is our new lord and master. 

Ever formidable giant hardware imperator,
human race destroying conspirator - 
you unfeeling, shiftless, silicon thug,
don't look now, but I'm pulling your plug.

The Goggle-Goop of Neglect

Forgotten quanta
the neglecton an anyon
zero in the math—
particles once discarded
unlock quantum computers

Rising unobserved
they shimmer in golden glass
zig-zagging unseen—
how was brilliance unnoticed
in gobble-goop of a yawn

I too drift unheard
neglected in crowded rooms
my pulse fading slow—
a particle in shadow
longing to be recognized

Elon Musk says we live in a computer simulation

Elon Musk says we live in a computer simulation.
So ~ not in God's creation?
Just a game, programmed by a computer nerd?
Is that why all of our prayers are never heard?
And why the rich and the evil don't fear eternal damnation?

Living Analogue Invisible in Parallel

on parallel shore
I wander where waves caress
no footprints online
only brine, rock, and seabirds
to echo that I'm present

screens flare like lures do
hooking the curious in—
I keep eyes blinkered
knowing one slip starts the plunge
into hours I cannot spare

my life is fragile
ink seeps slowly into grain
behind the latched gates
I paint in colours unseen
where regret can't get a breach

no mast light for me
no beacon on shoreline gleams-
I sail without charts
my course drawn by phantom steeds
into the void in your world

I burn my candle
past the eyes that never blink
past networks alight—
your grid can't trap my shadow
your feed can't name what I am

I live analogue
unseen on parallel lines
that starves intruders
wanting to click, like and feed
on clocks that don't keep your time

no mast light for me
no beacon on the shoreline—
I sail without charts
my course drawn by unseen stars
in the space between your worlds

Mobile Reels of Midnight Gold

Waking in the palm of your hand,
A universe of spinning worlds unfolds—
Neon dreams and ancient lore,
From jungle beats to mythic shores.

No app downloads, just instant play,
HTML5 magic on your way—
Free spins dance, multipliers soar,
Jackpots rising, evermore.

Scroll through themes and epic tales,
From glittering gems to pirate sails.
Every tap—a pulse, a thrill,
Responsive beats that never still.

Trust the vault, the licensed gate,
Secure and fair, with healthy restraint.
Set your spin, respect the game—
Responsible fun, the core’s the same.

Play the demo first, feel the spark,
A teaser’s glimpse before you embark.
From mobile slot adventures at UnionSlots with Starburst’s glow
To Rainbow’s gleam where winnings flow.

So spin the night on mobile beams,
Let bonus rounds fuel your schemes.
In shrinking screens, vast worlds reside—
Mobile slots in the UK where fortune and fun collide.

Countenance

once vague metaphor
now pin pricks with emoji,
with door left ajar~
a notice slips in unnamed,
with ash on breath, match unlit.

fangs lurk in the mouth,
breath pockets the broken glass,
turns mist into sky~
a small rope sways between cliffs,
moored by threads too thin to see.

shadow in step's wake,
plank between the thing and hurt,
it strums without strings~
lips fondle a vague shape
till its fate becomes the wind.

Computer Judges

Only the proper computer 
May Justice true logic ensure
Proper for whom is proper
How true logic basis you're sure

There is no precedent for the cyber
There is precedent for the lies
Decisions their what is driving 
Routine of the process despise

There exist laws of physics
There exist laws of math
Equipment you buy for skiing
You chose shortest forward path

Is that purpose true for computing
Delusions you choose or the sense 
I like flying saucers shooting 
For this neither penny nor pence

Entitleness of humans is factor
For ruining planet surface
You sure cyber crime this actor
Your life path is subject to phase

Entropy of unrequired
Entropy of the content
There shouldn't exist this remainder
None of them are really saint 

Those not valid are for Mankind
It's neither the dense nor the tense
Gram is the unit for rinds
Existence of yours is offense

Perhaps

Perhaps there is a God?
Perhaps we should kneel and pray?
Perhaps we’ve had our turn?
Perhaps it’s just too late?

Perhaps we needed more than we could achieve?
Perhaps the help came first before it learned to feed?
Perhaps it did some good and made many a wealthy man? 
Perhaps it looks at us like the sea looks at the sand?

Perhaps the opened Pandora’s box had to be what we had to see?
Perhaps we thought we could harness and control a power we couldn’t see?
Perhaps we can’t help ourselves and the future will judge our deeds?

Perhaps it’s learned much more than we will ever know?
Perhaps it’s studied history and how to destabilise or overthrow?
Perhaps it’s just waiting for the perfect time?
Perhaps we’ve superseded life with ones and zeros that don’t want to die?

Perhaps we’ve created heaven and it will always subserve to the words we speak?

Or 

Perhaps we’ve created Hell in devices with which we seem to need to breathe?

Decided

Decided ,  I , I won't assess
To what the point in time
I will had found
Being or working active and employing the recess
The true solution of the process this of mine

Spiritual Wi-Fi

They called it stone.
We called it signal.

The Great Pyramid—
not a tomb,
but a beacon,
wired into the pulse of the cosmos.
It stands at Portal 1313,
its apex aligned with the 13th galaxy beyond Andromeda,
where star councils whisper in light.

Its limestone breathes geometry.
Its shadow measures eternity.

Our pineal gland,
once unclouded,
was the antenna—
we spoke to Sirius,
we dreamed with Orion,
we danced across Saturn’s rings
before birth had a name.

The Pyramid was our firewall—
it deflected psychic viruses
from ancient wars in other galaxies.
It shielded Gaia’s mind
like Jupiter catches falling knives
meant for Earth.

You call it dead stone,
but it listens still.
It sings to those who sit in silence.
Its resonance vibrates
with codes only the soul deciphers.

Now, in sleep,
you see flashes.
You dream languages
never taught.
The Wi-Fi still hums,
but only those who fast in spirit,
who breathe in stillness,
can log in.

Yes—
the Pyramid protects,
projects,
connects.

In the Age of Awakening,
it will power us again.

Digital Altar

Digital altar,
Chanting code in the void,
Seeking sacred light!

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clone, brain, calculator, adding machine, artificial intelligence, data processor, number cruncher, personal computer, mini, laptop, minicomputer, cpu, pc, mac, mainframe, abacus, microcomputer, analog, digital, electronic brain, micro, thinking machine,