prim perforce parallel perceptively professorially posted
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
As the rise and shine of AI becomes ubiquitous
It’s ever harder to discern.
What’s easier to discern
Is what it’s not and what it lacks.
Of course it has no soul and never will
Which makes it primed to
Mechanical sociopathy.
But what it lacks besides a soul
Is the ability to judge in an instant
Discerning what it likes or doesn’t,
What is true or not.
It lacks humor too, which is part of judgement,
And along with that original thought
The true genius level ability to create.
AI after all, is designed to serve,
To answer and to please,
While genius requires the willingness
To disturb.
Will AI morph into something unforeseen?
Quite likely but never into a soul
With intuitive discernment and a taste for the absurd.
(9/6/26)
Metal feet outrun
records of our fastest man
finish line flashes
but nobody taught tin legs
what a finish line can mean.
We build forward gears
but leave reverse on paper
no exit was planned
they say 'you can't stop progress'
'til the finish circles back.
Things can move quickly
once we teach the gears to run
wisdom trails behind
the clever machine stays dumb
doing whatever it can.
Add a thinking cloud
and the price climbs with each guess
false answers sound true
who keeps checking all the checks—
who detects the last error?
I predict
In another few hundred years
Humans will have evolved to have no legs
Our hands will instead have evolved
To have smaller, more dexterous thumbs
And our butts will have flattened
To make our tiny flying saucers easier to handle.
Why do I say all this?
Because it’s clear Life outside of an inter-net
Is increasingly irrelevant.
In the future there will be no need for books
No need for one on one interaction
No need for adventure
No need for challenge
And when I say no need, of course I mean
No desire.
The addiction to instant gratification
Will replace all previous human desires
Sex, food, sports will all be redundant
In a virtual world.
We will all be hook on the e-soma
And those who aren’t
The irredeemable Neo-Luddites
Will be somewhere else, marginalized
And minimized with their long legs,
Big thumbs and butts.
And we in our 24th century Mouse Utopia
Will be blissful
When the last of us
Dies.
(8/25/26)
A goodbye happened before hello,
in some twisted loves, you just know.
I knew it was over before it even began,
suffocated by the calloused hands of a man.
I only saw your eyes in passing,
only one glimpse, and I knew they were worth having.
A goodbye was the very start,
the kind that ruins you in its poetic art.
I didn’t need to know your story.
I watched, noted the places you like to hang out,
you in all your glory.
I stalked for months, had all kinds of fun.
It’s a pity you didn’t when I told you to run.
I liked your bubbly charisma.
I played into it with charm.
You didn’t know all I wanted was to cause you harm.
I tricked you, said I knew your friend,
but when the lights went out, limp and alone,
you knew by the end.
I’m a psycho, a natural-born killer.
I’ve added you to my collection,
in which I’ve labelled thriller.
I said goodbye before hello.
You were pretty, a blonde,
and you didn’t even know.
If you
have never
met me
or tried
to understand
who I am
then why
should
I value
your opinion
about who
I am
and what
I feel
as an
autistic
person
of color?
Note: Sometimes people take what I write too literally hence the need for these notes. That being said, I am not actually asking any questions with this poem. However, in the face of discrimination, this is a common internal and external monologue. If you are an autistic person of color reading this, I see you. You are brave and resilient. Do not let anyone try to break you.
I don't
like to
accept
fake love
from
the Internet
and
it's not
real life.
The Internet
mourns celebrities
parasocially
but there are
so many
amazing lives
in the world
that are also
worth celebrating
and grieving
yet no one
online ever
seems to care
about those
lives at all.
They are all so very loud
so angry and so aggressive
very frustrated and unwell
For the deep pain they caused
the endless despair, the betrayals...
That's why they're all deep in h*ll
H*ll is not what Christians think
It is ultimately a state of mind
they are conditioned to dwell
So many of them like judging others
only to wonder why I tune them out
despite having many stories to tell.
The miserable
and the unhappy
like to
bother me
on Tumblr
by sending
me stupid asks
telling me
I'm "running
in circles"
when I am
mostly at peace
and
just doing
my own thing
while healing
and recovering
from the pain
of my deep past
but these
so called occultists
are mere frauds
with no talent
and I notice
they like
to try to
destroy my joy
because it seems
to make them
feel something
deep inside
that they
cannot feel at all
unless they try
to dim my light.
There is no
real need
for people
to be mean
to innocent
people they
do not even
know and
a line must
be drawn
when many
people we
care for
are being
targeted
just for being
Black or Brown
while they are
out and about
and it always
makes me frown
at the
computer screen
and that vibe
gets me down
which is why
I choose to
detach mentally
from it all
and log out
so that I don't
feel spiritually
drained for
these petty
online conflicts
are not even ever
worth the clout.
Lots of
people online
that we
do not
personally
know
tend to study
peoples poems
to psychoanalyze
their everything
but don't realize
the person
they might be
analyzing
is actually
very kind
and very calm
and very mature
but perhaps treated
like a servant
or maybe not
but they still hate
or they orchestrate
socially
engineered
situations
to try
and throw someone
emotionally
and spiritually
off balance
because their joy
offends them
which is maybe
why they restrict
and try to
judge folks
for how
they choose
to respond to
their jabs
and tricks
all while
everyone else
wonders why
I personally
always distance
myself from
other people
who take pride
in their cultural
sociopathy.
Always decimalize , not of priming . My cursor foothold to formulate logging leveling again ; curb reverberation shakeout reclamation : substitutable ?
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 10–16, 2026)
At the night late
I portrayed your sculpture great
Fingers stole your image
I stored in my heart rage
Blind I gave you the way
For what you granted me that day
It's the best poetry site in the world, in my view!
Hot soup is highly appreciated specially in the winter season!
Internet Categories
Definition | What is Internet 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
cyberspace, world wide web, information superhighway, www, arpanet, w3, hyperspace, infobahn, information highway, national information infrastructure, online network, the net, the web,