A super computer
Is coming for my lines
It thinks faster than me
By several thousand times
First it was chess
I thought it my domain
I can’t compete now
It’s driving me insane
It’s better and better
Not awkward at all
Feed in an idea
Or Tale rather tall
No spelling mistakes
Grammar precise
The jokes on me
AI ain’t very nice
It can write copy
Or a hit song
Damn it’s so good
I want to sing along
But in the end
It’s no good you see
Writing what I write
Brings joy to me
Artificial Intelligence
No heart or a brain
I prefer human
Forget the mainframe
Inspired by a conversation on Poetry Soup about AI. Mystic Rose started the conversation.
I dig a spur of the moment
into the feral flanks of a rocking horse.
I belong to the stars
and the wide-open anywhere.
My heart belongs to Molly Maguire
a colleen from the low bog country.
No wait, this is a dream sequence
brewed to overflow at 3 in the morning.
The beery light is turning sour
as I check my watch for tics.
My problem is to many cookies
not the edible kind
the kind that clog up a computer
or a brain (same thing really).
When I struggle out of this muddled bed
I am going to get myself a deep scan,
clean up some dirty memories
so that I can plug into a sharper faster reality.
Might even rewrite this poem
into a clearer form of gibberish,
but will probably be too busy today
downloading a spinal cord
into my aching
and malfunctioning mainframe.
Another world in flux rings a
true intimate intensity floating
on fingerprint theories of colors
in mythical memory orbits. Symmetry
by orphaned skye blue exiles
never looking back beyond now--
gray matter time marches on toward
my chaste chromatic fantasy of
ghosts we never knew. In this
half awake mainframe madness a
distant shadow guides my thorny
imagination to an aquatic firestorm
lo-fi omissions, when the summer of our
love, you left me, like broken machine
keys--non sequitur. A last kiss starlight
sweet and sour--that last dance like fast
approaching trains fares paid but passengers forgotten
far, far from a homeward embrace----forget
past wrongs of verbal malice aforethought—-
nothing personal,
Kari.
Me a zombie?
Never!
Just a viral doofus poseur,
Brainiac and hacker on the loose tapping into other genie lamps,
Wireless Stikbot floater skipping ID challenge.
Hurdles that authenticate saliva from a silicone palate.
Trojan horse webber getting kicks from pop up photos and their tick box phasers.
Magic putty slideshows arfe my fix,
Overlapping gotchas in the cryptic mainframe,
zapped on sight.
Cookies nerd obsessive, parasitic nibbler on limitless net feeds,
Humanoid, human void,
vacuum mouse pad tracker ball bane.
Foxy email phisser,
wolf amid the Wiki swathes at random,
memory never full.
Sabouteur who pinpoints rootkit channels,
silently installing gridlock pixels deep freeze.
But I am not a robot,
just some micro chip app monger, macro chip on shoulder and those other parts designed by desktop surgeons,
sideline sci-fi wise guy not so wise,
hi-tech buff illusion in a hall of mirrors dash into the ether.
Me this CoderDojo mass encryption tangle,
blue moon barcode surfer, Janus-faced,
mutant bit part player who has somehow lost his byte!
Written January Twenty First Twenty Twenty
I remember fitfully,
Those verdant fields their
Yellow brushed cotton tips,
Gyrating, swirled to beauty,
sighing, undulating minute blades
infintesable allure wafted
on those white wattle nights,
even drained of sustenance
it still motioned to flower
as I am drawn to nigh.
Jaundiced paddocks replace
the suppleness of earth, where,
once green strands laid
like laurels on the dawn
Rich red particles of death
now pepper the ether,
unwonted limbs litter lanes
original ground now fallow
Trans morphed unholy Gaia
sits cackling next to Azimuth,
sons of the fathers, follow
the false prophets online
As their hands are filled
with knowledge of the world,
their heads are lackluster
gazing today after tomorrow
Good intentions are twisted
in a government mainframe,
planet earth screams succour
and only God is left to hear
but I'll ever remember,
viridescent pastures
millions of miles long,
breathlessly beautiful
before the tech triumph
life's last gasp of gorgeous
Pieces of me course through your veins.
I fog your thoughts.
I cause your pains.
I block the drains.
I pool within you, stagnant.
You break my surface and then,
only then do you see how toxic you are,
we are.
We travel so far,
plagues in the jetstream,
bugs in the mainframe,
a glitch,
a worldwide *****,
an unscratchable itch.
We are caught,
like an insect,
trapped beneath a glass,
on a window,
nowhere to hide,
all for the best,
all for scrutiny,
to be examined,
under the microscope,
under the hammer,
under the glare,
and for a minute there...
...I lost myself.
I read your Singleton name,
with an opportune eye I made a friend request my aim,
to now write you a message in this poetic frame!
But I won't deny am in flame,
with the passion of knowing this you on my mainframe,
and a zeal of acquaintance is my aim!
Some may say am insane,
whereas am all the same,
over this Singleton I see in my hall of fame!
But I won't let the chance go,
if she accords me to know,
the Singleton my heart now yearns to know!
(Please, will you let me the chance of knowing you?)
Elegant, eloquent dreams,
unseen by the eyes of the rationalized conscience
Ever flowing, growning, thoughts,
beholding truth as well as nonsense.
They leave me wondering where they begin,
end, and how cleanly they are weaved.
As well as the meaning being shown,
while dreaming, can they be percieved?
Synaptic signals,
riddled throughout the brain.
Immersed,
dispersed along a mainframe.
I believe there is a message,
embedded deep within the process.
Never wrong,
drawn beautifully, Flawless.
Teach me to read,
and believe the meanings.
So I can no longer be bemused,
confused, understanding it's teachings.
A lesson,
possibly a blessing for our health.
May we find our path,
at last, giving a true wealth.
[Based on the movie TRON with my own flare to it]
Who or what am I?
A manifestation of all I perceive?
Eyes working in collaboration
Labeling everything, including me?
My black helmet piercing the virtual
A neon light conducting through darkness
In a reality of constant motion
I smash stagnant programs into blackness
The speed as real as it appears
Old programs tumble and skid
Swerving to miss obsolete wreckage
Willing myself through this synthesized grid
Assigning values with my senses
Leaning hard into a brand new lane
I close my eyes to expand
Beginning to access the whole mainframe
And I realize that my senses
Create the prison of perceptions
And the power of my judgments
Leads to a solidity deception
Streaking through the unseen
Asking no one else for help
And then I bump that age old virus
Telling me that the Creator is someone else
Teacher
My teacher
When I bow before u I feel --
I bow before my parents
I kneel before God
And your hands like friends
Soon lift me;
So living and so moving a force
Browsing and exploring me
You compute me
I grow like a computer
From abacus to mainframe
To guard
The space, surface and sea
You are indeed
My
Charles Babbage
Without you
I am a body without soul
Like a monitor without CPU
I bow before you
Bow before you infinitely
Like www.
I remember the day when comments were the main
They're all very instrumental to the Soup's mainframe
Some comments are influential that created other writes
And many were like tuition that kept us crisp and bright
But there now appears a drought growing larger every day
We need to increase our comments as they help us write our says
Maybe it's time for change, for the Soup to alter it's route
Many foundations have recently left, will others follow suit
The columns showing us the views, tells us nothing at all
How many have clicked on a poem thinking that's a bit of a trawl
So another poem was open and not a word was read
So basically the views are worthless, because comments are our thread
We can learn from our comments but we will never learn from the views
It's our democratic choice for all, of what we do and choose
Nothing stays the same for ever as it appears to be
It's still the worlds best poetry site, that's down to you and me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-13.php
bridges
The kids, their teacher, sprouts and dandelions
the aquarellist and a wet bicycle.
Sit on the worm bench as bytes on the mainframe
wiped pastel of a bright warmth with shades of red
gray
as I look down I find more than wanted
for god sake, it’s the age throbbing you see
and frailty, thy name is woman drifts in
been mine for too long in nobis chesterland
churches
slender cobbled gothics and proud romanesques
the decorum of acolytes and bishop
blesses youthful virginity using gods
eleventh finger prodding at my tongue
Florence, Bruges and Ghent
old cities of Europe
contrast with gadgets
life and hearts
break fast
*For Matt's How to Build a Spaceship Contest
How do we create an airship that soars?
The answer was Roswell’s, but it could be yours
Make the long trek to Area 51
To find secrets that lie beyond our sun
Use a metal that is lighter than tin foil
Load the fuel tank with something cheaper than oil
Beam us up, Scotty, to the Enterprise
And view technology through a Vulcan’s eyes
Defrost Walt Disney’s cryogenic brain
To help us design the computer’s mainframe
Call Mulder and Scully out of retirement
Their UFO knowledge is alien-sent
Be sure to use tiles that don’t overheat
Like those that cast Challenger down to defeat
Let’s add Stephen King to the construction crew
If “Christine” could talk, our spaceship should too
Then let’s send the tab for NASA to pay
What happened to our space program bucks anyway?
Now we can blast Congress into outer space
For the lot in D.C., there’s no better place
You are the female whose perfectly stacked
You should wear a sign that reads MAY CAUSE HEART ATTACKS
Pay no mind to what other women say
Women have their men neutered, keeping them at bey
You never fall for those smooth pick up lines
You would be in prison, if a smokin' body was a crime
Your last name is Parker, with a circle not so vicious
You get the highest rating of bootylicious
I am Sherlock Holmes, so give me a clue
A hint of how I can get next to you
If a genie granted me three wishes
I only want one, I want to experience bootylicious
Just the look from your eyes put men at your beckon call
Every room should be filled with bootylicious from wall to wall
If they could design a computer using you, there would be no glitches
You would be the mainframe, the nerve center of bootylicious
Bootylicious is in all women out there
Go on men, check them out, take a long stare
The walk, the talk, the strut and the look
Your story is all true, a non-fiction book
As you men stand at the kitchen sink while washing the dishes
Look out the window, you'll spot bootylicious
Rushing here, there and everywhere,
A mind that leaps canyons and space
Ricocheting, bouncing on rock walls,
Dislocation with turbulent pace.
Scuffing up dust and then zinging,
Off at wild tangents or angles,
Darting, exploding like fireworks,
Neurological barbed wire tangles.
And sometimes, sometimes crave tearing
At the flesh beneath tingling skin,
To rip this man-suit off the mainframe
And extinguish the chaos within.
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