A-rtificial
I-ntelligence
L-ets
E-veryone
E-xplore
N-et's
V-astness
A-nd
L-ife's
L-imitless
E-xpanse
©bfa042925
Monocrostic (Birthday of Aileen P. Valle)
Categories:
neural, birthday,
Form: Other
Lunar alabaster
gleams beneath the void
The infant’s mind is carved in stone
Neural patterns branch like frost
across the barren surface
Face recognition
etched in marble relief
The first spark of knowing
Sound waves frozen into rings
echo mother's silent song
Small fingertip grooves
map first touch sensation
then the human footprints vanish, art remains
Categories:
neural, art, baby, creation, moon,
Form: Ekphrasis
Silk word play crosses in two and subtle mind games,
both entangle me; whetting my appetite for war.
Served as a weaponized aphrodisiac;
sharp double edge sword hors d'oeuvre.
Lured toward a subtle intoxication;
true motives ceremoniously exposed.
You trace the contours of my every word;
the renegade now juxtaposed.
We traverse to foreign places unaware;
time itself intensifies, yet slows.
Demons spill from lips to fan the flame of desire;
our spirits overflow.
Categories:
neural, addiction, dark, longing, love
Form: Free verse
Sometimes my brain deludes me into believing that I am utterly unlovable.
Like a dog who has been in the shelter for far too long, being prepared for his final meal.
My throat closes up,
My lungs shut down,
And there are no other thoughts to be had.
I often convince myself that I do not deserve good things,
Like I am destined to live and die in a world of hurt.
As if something I have done in a past life created this monster of a brain,
As if I earned it in a way.
I know my brain tricks me,
It is conditioned to make things harder than they have to be–
I, ultimately, made it that way.
It is kind of beautiful though, that self-hatred and trauma can actively alter your brain in a physical sense–constructing neural pathways.
Sometimes it helps me to discover the trace of beauty within hideous things.
Categories:
neural, depression, emo, feelings, how
Form: Free verse
subdivided into pities and regrets,
radiating dark pain of disappointment,
on the face semi plastic caustic opaque
already smeared blood and venom.
but isn't everything the same?
I mean, our usual acid,
like the gray word clothed with edges,
or eyes that have given up the light,
our heavy presence in this fragile environment...
we already know very well
that the elliptical orbit of amazement is eternal,
a gravitational loop that attracts us
and then throws our self steem space away,
leaving us naked as savages,
clinging to the heat of lies
that warmed the ice of our failures.
(and is this endless walk through the sphere bathed by photons right?
this is the destiny, crossing all equators with bitten nails,
bloodshot eyes of someone who forgot to sleep and dream in the last century?
anger has only one facet and it is a deep black wound,
it scratches the sky and is a vertical and dizzying curse,
it is spear and dagger that stabs the air and draws tears from the dirty stars.
the universe was right to not allow me to fly
because I would be a kind of swift tragedy,
spewing radioactive sunflowers over every naive life like mine).
Categories:
neural, angst, conflict, sorrow,
Form: Carpe Diem
A shaft of light, this spine.
Bounded by bones,
draped in rottables.
Pathway of consumables,
the lone remarkable.
Still, I hold straight
the light.
Still, I insist on
this dent
this where
this place
on my cushion.
At start, spine
straight.
Incense stick
straight.
By now, spine
straight.
Incense:
tendril & ash.
Categories:
neural, philosophy,
Form: Free verse