The life of a cursor is not an easy one.
It could turn into any shape depending the command of the user but
Sometimes it decides to take matters into it's own hands and to do as it pleases and refuses to work
In the end it is only an artificial intelligence
With an end of life undecided.
Our life as compared to the cursor is full of vitality.
We do things on whim depending on our mood
We do things as instructed because we've got no choice than to obey
Sometimes we decide to go our own way ;
Different from what we are supposed to do
In the end we have a limit
We are no robots
Why then do we stress ourselves out and not enjoy life?
Life without some flexibility and happiness
Is like the life of a blinking cursor on the computer screen
Dull and without vitality.
Manipulating reality,
the moment concealed
Manipulating reality,
what’s virtual ‘real’
Manipulating reality,
the keys push and drain
Manipulating reality,
technology reigns
Manipulating reality,
fantasy schools
Manipulating reality,
apostasy rules
Manipulating reality
all cursors and screens
Manipulating reality,
lost memory undreamed
Manipulating reality,
electrons control
Manipulating reality
a hard driven soul
Manipulating reality,
love crashes and burns
Manipulating reality
—truth cyber unlearned
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
Deflected, crushed by the social retardation,
Not loved, ‘cos he’s altogether unaccepting,
Active learning the robot’s mouth action,
So he can't contextualise, there’s no blessing.
Neither me nor him meet and we sweep by,
There’s no connection from his ANDs and ORs,
Only citadels to weather the reactive cry,
When my nouns are pocketed by many cursors.
Where’s the memory bank and why the chat?
The bus is long gone and I'm open, vulnerable,
There’s no room for social construction’s mat,
To yield identity’s dynamic, recursive turntable.
Yes, microchips and logic gates shouldn't enable,
Machine learning at the cost of root foundations;
Your group, community, your niche and fable,
Ignite the necessary conversation of care situations.
Ok, so can we build a robot? A care robot?
Indeed care assistance is definitely reducible,
To only a small number of abstractions, clot,
‘Cos love does not evade the comprehensible.
Doors class as access, also pavements, steps,
Only three types of garments, two of people,
Friend or foe, but a cloud for certain parapets,
And who’s boss is said before, it's programmable.
Corruption >
Unbiased and unforgiving is their logic
Whose cursors we click
And keys we touch
Obliged to let Mr. User
Be the chooser
The multi-purpose tool that we use for so much
Though some might say "magic"
And some see only machine
I see a world
where anything could be
But this power is granted
To those whose minds are corrupt
They don’t think like computers
Whose logic is so abrup-
Cursors, failed again
My cursor has a secret life
devoid of fingered touch
darting about the internet
always in a rush
going to the strangest places
hanging out with “bookies”
inviting them to come and play
leaving trails of “cookies”
A single click
a tortured plea
someone please
respond to me
a double tap
upon the right
let’s crash the place
it’s party night
So sits my cursor
sheepishly wishin’
she’d stayed at home
and not gone “phishin’”
as flashbacks from
her sordid past
revisit her
in spamming flash.
Now she sits in rehab mode
“geek squad” modification
while I sit in another room
awaiting interrogation.
6/28/2015
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