Long Operators Poems
Long Operators Poems. Below are the most popular long Operators by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Operators poems by poem length and keyword.
GOOD AFTERNOON
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.
WELCOME TO THE WORLD
OF TRANSHUMANISM.
I AM YOUR HOST
THE DAPPER RING MASTER.
ANSWERING QUESTIONS
AFTER OBSERVING DISASTERS.
TODAY WE WILL TOUR
MY STATE OF THE ART,
FUTURISTIC, LABORATORY
OF BIOLOGICAL BEHAVIOR.
HERE IS WHERE WE RESEARCH,
ALTER, CREATE AND OBSERVE
BIOLOGICAL ALTERATIONS.
IN PREPARATION FOR PHASE II
TRANSHUMANISM.
TO YOUR LEFT IS OUR BEHAVIORAL
NEUROSCIENCE DEPARTMENT.
WHERE WE STUDY THE
PHYSIOLOGICAL BASES FOR
MOTIVATED BEHAVIOUR, EMOTION,
LEARNING, MEMORY, COGNITION
AND MY FAVOURITE, MENTAL DISORDERS.
TO YOUR RIGHT OUR RESEARCH
DEPARTMENT WHERE ACTUAL
EXPERIMENTAL EXPERIMENTS
ARE EXPERIENCED.
PREFORMED BY OUR VERY OWN
PSYCHOPATHIC RESEARCHERS.
THEY ARE CURRENTLY OBSERVING
BIOLOGICAL ALTERATIONS OF MAN MADE
COMPUTER GENERATED VIRUSES.
STRAIGHT AHEAD OF YOU.
BEHIND 36 INCHES OF
GRAPHENE FORTIFIED GLASS.
YOU ARE WITNESSES
TO THE FUTURE OF MANKIND.
WHAT YOU ARE SEEING
WITH YOUR OWN EYES IS
CREATURA.
STILL IN DEVELOPING
STAGE.
THIS TWELVE FOOT
EIGHT HUNDRED POUND
LABORATORY GROWN
CREATURA IS NEITHER
MALE OR FEMALE.
CAPABLE OF WITH STANDING
TWO HUNDRED DEGREE
TEMPERATURES.
CREATURA HAS NO SENSE
OF SMELL TASTES OR TOUCH.
CREATURA WILL GROW UP
TO BE EIGHTEEN FEET TALL.
AND WEIGH OVER TWENTY-FIVE
HUNDRED POUNDS.
CAPABLE OF TOLERATING
SEVEN THOUSAND DEGREES
DESIGNED AND CREATED
TO WORK IN THE DIAMOND
MINES AT EARTHS CORE.
CREATURA WILL RESPOND TO
MANMADE FREQUENCIES.
CONTROLLED BY COMPUTER
OPERATORS FROM AFAR.
WE NOW HAVE REACHED
THE END OF YOUR TOUR.
THIS IS THE FUTURE
AND I AM YOUR HOST
THE DAPPER RING MASTER.
Michael E. Harris
09052021
She will take a bus today; it will be an old bus on a long
taken journey. The factory is a derelict shell. She cannot smell
the dereliction, she smells the walls and the ranks of machines
that thunder and hiss inside a grey vault of printed moments.
Her hands remember what to do, the machine whines and spins
as she tends.
The foreman is a watchful bastard, anger fills her throat
as he glares through an oily interface in her mind.
The boss is a mustache in a suit that never speaks to the
workers. She does not recall taking the bus home.
Around teatime threads of light arrow down from a domed
ceiling introducing her once again to an upholstered moment.
She reaches out for the mechanical cat. It is its birthday and
the woman who interlopes into her present hovers over her
as she drinks her tea. Small talk wanders around the room,
it cannot hear itself anymore. The cat purrs her to sleep again.
Two women talk in a corridor, discuss deterioration or
improvement - there are signs of both. Progress in any
restorative sense is not mentioned. It is decided not tell her
who she is anymore, it only confuses the operators of
wrecking balls, the driver of the bus, the long dead foreman,.
Soon another workday will chug to a stop at her doorstep
then depart for places only pictured in monochrome archives.
Inside the buffet and pitch of a city bus breadwinners dream
of jam for evening supper.
A inspired dedicated verse to Panagiota Romios
"I need His emergency number"
Operating, operator dear angel;
Please give me
The number, phone number to God
I need your assistance
Operator your emergency number is 7 7 7- 7 7 7 -7 7 7 7
Operator I need help with this
I need instead make a make a person-to-person call
To my God
Could you show me how?
Operators speaking this is all you need to just fall on your knees hold up your head and hands
Look up
Look up
Talk
Speak up to the heaven I would cry
And just talk to the Lord what's on your mind
For you see in prayer God's always open
Oh, please God O Jesus please open your holy ears and receive me
Mercy dear Lord have mercy on me
Oh, and talk to me and hear my heart and heal my soul
Oh, Father you say
What is this conversation you have your doubts in Me what's the 411 open up the Books of Truth
You say I'm there I'm here read, read, prayer, pray
Just talk to me
Just talk to me if you want acknowledgement of me
For I will soothe your heart
Relieve you of Doubt
Control your animosities and finally comforting will bless your heart and comfort you
Just be still and talk to me
9/7/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr & Panagiota Romios 2019©
*based on words inspired by “Panagiota Romios” in bold print..
From forthcoming anthology
“Inspired In boxed Word Write Collabs #1”
"I smell A.I. as it coldly brushes against me, stiff and analytical in it's digital analysis of my heartbeat, falling short in quantifying that which is experienced within my soul,,,,, this while though presenting the perfect picture of representation, lack's the true seasonings and flavor of life."
Darrell
A.I. attempts to understand the human experience,,,,, breaking it down into digital bits.... "ones and zeros" as we engineers call it. The outward picture comes quite close to an accurate representation of the heartbeat of humanity yet lacks any flavor ,,, any smell,,, any true understanding of my heart and soul .....
I live! I taste! I smell the flavors of life and I pity the paltry machines and their operators who will never know my joys, my heartache, my laughter, my pain, my victory, my loss, my love or my sorrow...
For the gods themselves stand in envy of my mortality !
WORLD WAR THREE
Yes, the noise is all about planes and tanks
Frontline hardware, as was always the case
But in reality, it’s cheaper timely innovation
It’s the third world war – of disinformation
The human story, a soldier’s strained face
But the backroom boys may get little thanks
There will be coverage of both side’s forces
With systems operators hacking crucial sites
And coming up fast from the rear, is A.I
And self-navigating drones flown just to spy
The treasure is in destroying more terabytes
Less about military, it’s intelligence sources
There will always be gunfire and casualties
It is expected, featuring well on TV news
But when national I.T systems are failing
The public response is much angry wailing
There won’t ever be enough repair crews
One then looks internally for the hostilities
There will of course, be many who’ll die
But a designer virus will be more extensive
Power supply probably the first to stumble
Then healthcare, while politicians fumble
And all along, modern war is less expensive
Yet with constant naivete, we wonder why
I’m gonna do it again, put my fears, questions and worries into my pen. Watch the ink release the hold its grip has had me in. Fear has been my main attraction. I never need a ticket as I dictate and delegate all of the action and many transactions. That's right your eyes and ears seen and heard correct. I am Frankenstein, the inventor of the dread that has had me crippled within my own head. I made this bed. I meticulously formed places for my mistrust, faithless, fear driven, case-less theories, to root and grow . Swallowing me whole, for already forgiven sins, from the box man In confession. Now to redo that section without deception, as deceitful balloons eventually pop from the misconception, that you are free after 10 hail Mary’s and your donated fiscal blessing into the box. I release the pressure I created in my own head. How peaceful it feels, to just let your hearts kettle decompress and express, anything that has been fighting to live within you without loves breath. Hatred was starting to form and take over my head. Faith never left, it just stepped aside and allowed me the opportunity to decide if I was going to continue to turn myself into a monster I despise or into a being full of hope and life. He gave us choice, and only in our time will we be able to give it a voice. Not even a scientist can theorize the truth its invisible except to few. We are our own hope operators, mental surgeons, word makers, feeling scientists and yes confessional takers . The need has always been within, the keys were always there to find. It was the lock that you placed before you let go of fear from your mind, that kept you crippled and discouraged from any attempt to fight for your own life.
Labelled once as relaxation station
a brothel I was... that offered my hospitality expertise
catering to human nature lusts
meeting carnal cravings
satiating fleshly appetites…
...yet…
the stigma of being a home-wrecker
along accusation and the reality
of being an illegal den of promiscuity
made me guilty, seeing aborted babies
while enriching my operators…
...thus…
grateful am I for laws striving to close my establishment
persevering to end my pleasurable pursuits
(lurking through prostitution leisure I'm ashamed of)
toward prioritizing peace in the family
midst home and community welfare
as God has wondrously designed in His goodness*.
Psalm 33:5 He loveth righteousness and judgment: the earth is full of the goodness of the LORD.
February 20, 2021
2nd place, "Personification Poem 150" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 6/25/2021.
Woke up to no sun
it was just the darkness of dawn
on my own in a world I had created
birthed by my own thoughts
characterized by the sum of my fears and desires
through the manifestation of my thoughts believed.
Progressively, evolving being I am; learning
Earnestly applying remedy to the defects of my character
For every thought-seed sown takes root,
sooner or later blossoms bearing its own fruits
Good, Bad - I had to learn to find delight
Revealing to me, myself
In acknowledgement that my prayers were merely song,
that I had to find the rhythm in the beat and harmonise self with its frequency
Let go the cliche that we must disregard those that have different views from us
Restructure my thinking in remembrance that the oppressor and the slave are co-operators in ignorance
and that only in reality are afflicting themselves
Had to conquer my own weaknesses
meet me some light
Oh world meet phoenix me as I rise with the sun,
to a world anew, freedom and reach my outmost potential
Become the True ME
The sound of hooting and shouting behind the steering wheel sends a cascade of traffic crawling down the street while two men arguing about time started a heated debate in front of the gate. None of them seems to agree with each other, each one contradicting the other and the passersby emits an energy that rocks the sky.
It transcends a pillar of smoke in the atmosphere blackening the clouds and disrupting the rhythm in the street and the birds on their migration journey fly around in confusion seeking fresh air.
I sat on the seat of mercy watching them shouting outing on for glory stuck in mid-air and deprived of fresh air with nothing to hold on to but their faith, stalled breaks and a frozen battery.
Anxious passengers screaming and shouting, others holding on to their children trying to comfort them. They were all clothed in emergency suit waiting for the time to open the parachute.
I watched him from above through cockpit glass, he looked calmed, reserved and undisturbed, midths the chaos he silently mapped out a safety plan before he attempts to land.
While chaos was erupting behind him, a ferocious wind come chiming in, they could feel the turbulence from the earth when a miraculous wind propels the plane in another direction and it went on an unknown path.
While confusion was mounting behind him, he got his communication back on track and continued the journey from a different direction.
The rage continues in the street with taxi operators throwing punches at another, one man got shot in his leg while another passed out and lay dead.
Check your temperature before you venture out and ignore the blowing horns and the musical sounds. When the ugly frown stares in your face ignore them and go your way or they will shoot you dead in the middle of the day. The rage is all around the town and it will take you to where destiny is bound.
y Schrödinger equation, mean-field approaches are commonly developed.
A detailed derivation can be found in Dalfovo’s article. The generalization of the
original Bogoliubov description to the physical situation in real experiments is given
by describing the field operators in the Heisenberg:
(2)
Where y (x,t) is a complex function defined as the expectation value of the field
operator and its modulus represents the condensate density.
If we ignored the depletion of the condensate, the time evolution of the condensate
wave function at temperature T=0 is obtained by taking the ansatz for the field
operator and using the Heisenberg equation. Then we can get the Gross-Pitaevskii
equation for the mean field (see some condensed matter physics text books such as by
Chaikin),
(3)
The description of the propagation of noninteracting matter waves in periodic
potentials is straightforward once one has found the eigenstates and corresponding
eigenenergies of the system. If we consider a one dimensional sinusoidal periodic
potential of the form,