In the daylight,
I see you
With broad strength,
Carry your children,
Gather words
To feed the financial machine,
Run, fight, skate
On ice so thick,
A thousand fires would freeze.
In the night-time,
I follow your eyes
To uncovered places,
Where taste and scent
Push out from the sheets
Through a window,
Whose pane
The moon could not break,
To turn old light into stars.
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
Humanity has always had its haves and have-nots.
Before it was more about status and power
Wealth and position.
Today it is who has the desire to self-determine
Build their own home, raise their own family,
And who wants someone else to do it for them.
So we have two piles of society;
Those who are productive and who make,
And those who are parasitic and just take.
Both piles are growing, because both
Have their rewards,
But it’s still the makers who provide for the takers.
And what keeps that balance in place
Is the fear of what destruction the takers
Will make if they get cut off
From the hand that feeds them.
It’s a precarious balance of hope and fear,
But ultimately unsustainable.
There is no solution until the takers become
Self-sufficient and determined makers themselves.
But that will take a reckoning
Which society is not yet willing to make.
(9/24/26)
Yes, the smallest things,
can control the outcome of,
the biggest events.
Dock of the Cosmic Bay
Did Sun Ra think in holographic time/
past and future turning on one wheel/ Saturn ringing like a cymbal beneath Marshall Allen’s horn and its cosmic cry/
The Arkestra boarded freight trains of sound/ smoking rails through midnight skies/
robes bright with Egyptian constellations/ saxophones splitting the dark into day gigs of wonderment/
Then Otis rose from the Georgia gospel/
His voice is rough as rope/ warm as bread/
singing from the Dock of the Bay where silence waits/ and every wave remembers the dead/
One built a vessel out of thunder and space time/
One made heartbreak a soulful testimony/
Both knew Earth was only a classroom/
Space is the place/ Soul time music was the reason why/
When time has officially ended/the stars lean close to hear what/
Sun Ra's Arkestra drifting across the water, a cosmic chord dissolving fear/
Space is the place/
Otis Redding's Soul music is the way/
And love/ the oldest spacecraft/
carries us beyond today.
I stand back and watch the river
It's flowing so fast
It's been like this day and night
With no end in sight
I already lost my home
And know I have so many doubts
I lost my dog
And right now my mind is in a fog
I lost my only transportation
Now I see my car going down the river to a new location
I lost my beautiful wife
My future is not so bright
I lost so much all at once
And I know to get back on my feet it will take months
I don't care anymore my life was very good
I thought my house would have withstood it all
I have nothing left
I'm so stress
The only thing left is my gun
And I'm not going to run
My life is completely done
Back to the future,
the matured drawing bord...
The indelible sword of the allure that seduces her.
Her edge, it does not end...
instead, it bends into the infinite,
the undefinitive depth of what was and what is,
attractive...
reflective...
primitive...
Her pulse, pressing immovably
against her immutable mind...
She is a goddess, I must confess,
a kind of powerful rhyme,
a dime a dozen a thousand times.
Oh why!
Why does my poetry live and die
at the inception of her word?
The amenable nerd,
the affection of my mental arection.
I am not ashamed, nor do I wish to subdue...
or tame...
the flame burning in my name.
In the name of liberty and luxury
and lust...I must!
For it would surely be, a bona fide crime,
to decline the art just waiting to climb
from your lips, my prolific truth drips and dribbles,
Tantalizing...
Realizing...
Fantasizing...
I see you coming of age
with a mother's pride and joy
I see you with the love of your life
and I am grateful you know that love
The crimson tinge of love overides
the shadow of pain and loss of the last
two years like Spring following a dark Winter
I watch you plunge into the hope and promise
of a beautiful life and see the future
that you have planned with the currency
of a strong career. You are a young man
on the periphery of his future life
I am waiting for you to plunge ahead
and I will be cheering for you as you
become who you are destined to be
To my home town I pledge to my soul
To alway return to thee, my sun only set in thee
Blossom show me and brighten thou smile
Chipping and rushing is thou beautiful court
Laughter ,harmony is thou strength together we dance
In war,in cry and in ceremony
A smile in sorrow if thou goest down
But fight and struggle to rise again
Training and playing with those of our future
To love thee,and dance in merry
A dance in sorrow and never letting go never ever
When the future of the morrow stand together with the past of yesterday
We make a change
We rise and never fall even if we stumble we stand straight again like the sun.
/Boom Bap Reverie
Crates cracked open in dusk-lit basements/
Needles tracing dust on grooves of gold, Soul samples looped—forgotten statements resurrected from wax, stories retold/
Basslines thump like city heartbeats, Hi-hats flicker, snare drums snap, old school wisdom in concrete streets, Cyphers ignite in a boom bap trap/
Chopped horns echo in subway tunnels, Scratch of vinyl, a DJ’s prayer, Freestyle poets, words like funnels pouring truth in the midnight air/
Apollo Brown dreams in sepia tones, Soul-worn records, crate diggers’ pride, Underground kingdom, built on bones of legends who never died/
So, spin that hour of rare instrumental. Let nostalgia ride the groove in every sample/ Hip Hop's past is still on fire/, and hip hop’s spirit finds its truth/
Make me feel good
Make me a God
God in me
God is You
You are darkness
You are light
Light up the world
Light shines on rain
Rain creates floods
Rain creates
Creates food
Creates hope
Hope for water
Hope for mercy
Mercy on enemies
Mercy on our soul
Soul on ice
Soul poisoned
Poisoned blood
Poisoned mind
Mind controlled
Mind on freedom
Freedom doesn’t exist
Freedom is a daily struggle
Struggle for equality
Struggle for peace
Peace is colorful
Peace is wonderful
Wonderful gifts
Wonderful world
World of passion
World of crime
Crime of passion
Crime is wrong
Wrong directions
Wrong plan
Plan for safety
Plan for the future
Future blessings
Future prayers
Prayers for culture
Prayers for our children
Children in paradise
Children of the innocent
Innocent planet
Innocent life
Life needs purpose
Life needs support
Support
Purpose
Left everything behind
Not for dreams; but for reality.
Even earth doesn't stay at a place
What are we to have a constant living.
Sometimes it's better to change habitat
Not for company; but for our State of mind.
In spite of survival birds too migrate
What's there to question, it's nature.
Feeling of being leftout
Not for new lifestyle; but for healthy relation
Though seasons change like our mood
What is left nothing but grief.
The radio towers died at noon, the screens went blank and cold,
And static ceased to whisper of the empires bought and sold.
Down in the deep concrete redoubts, where millions gasped for air,
The ordinary citizens were stripped of their despair.
But in its place came something vast, a terrible, clean weight—
The absolute, unyielding hush that settled at the gate.
For thirty days no leader spoke, no siren pierced the dark,
The automated generators left a silent spark.
Men stared into their calloused hands, unable to recall
The frantic noise that used to drive their backs against the wall.
The silence was a physical thing, a pressure in the ear,
That forced the crowded bunker-rooms to face their oldest fear.
Yet by the third long, wordless week, the madness turned to rest,
As heartbeat matched to heartbeat in the quiet of the chest.
They learned to read the shifts of light, the breathing of the crowd,
And found a stranger, softer tongue where nothing was allowed.
Before the silver wood reached down to claim the planet's lease,
The bunker citizens survived the suffocating peace.
The bridge
to the future
a song
Living in the past
can only last
~ So long
and it comes as no crime ~ AI frees up man giving him some spare time
not for leisure or help keep fit ~ but more screen time to do endless sh!t
By
David Kavanagh
Future Categories
Definition | What is Future in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
prospective, eventual, subsequent, planned, imminent, forthcoming, impending, ultimate, unfolding, inevitable, approaching, final, coming, booked, destined, fated, later, likely, near, next, ulterior, unborn, scheduled, up, budgeted