It’s been a year since I joined the soup,
Meanwhile we’ve gone round the sun in a loop,
Sadly some fell off, didn’t quite make it all the way,
I’m clinging on, hoping to find one better day.
But the loop continues, has to persist,
Like our thoughts, it’s what makes us exist,
So off we go on our journey, around once more,
Headlong to tomorrow, unsure what’s in store.
Creating poems of all shapes and every kind,
Unaware what verse will next spring to mind,
Oh boy then it comes, at once all together,
A feeling of achievement moments of pleasure.
Sometimes I wonder are they already written,
Preprogrammed into life, an untapped composition,
Latently buried, in the back of our mind,
Placed there by creation, or maybe design.
So like it or not, as we loop around the soup
One thing I’m sure of, this life is no fluke,
And that’s us in a nutshell, as we spiral through space,
Today seems the same, but earths in a different place.
PODIUM PLACING PROMISE(4) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 20 lines
03/01/2020
Categories:
preprogrammed, life, planet, poetry, simple,
Form: Rhyme
Free will
an
illusion.
Free, limited
only.
Programmed
to a path,
course of
actions
predetermined!
Endless choices,
genetically
constrained.
Aggressive
by nature,
or timid be.
Anything
in between.
Choices constrained
by nature.
Niches filled,
genetically so.
Preprogrammed,
following
the
genetic path
to
free will.
Categories:
preprogrammed, art,
Form: Prose Poetry
Deprived for affection
She flaunted her kindness
For nickels and dimes
For anyone interested
Preprogrammed and
Desperately afraid
To face aloneness
Hurt once too many
For the very last time
Today burying her naïve youth
And taking up the colours
Of a new attitude
Energy way too limited
Time too precious
The heart can only
Take so much bruising
As she welcomed
With fresh colors
The new her
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on November 11, 2017
Categories:
preprogrammed, change, heart, innocence, introspection,
Form: Free verse
Hey there Avidian
who do you
think you are?
Some rara avis
eminently gifted?
a New Age prophet
with memory that learns
and yearns to grow?
Ovidian offspring
of eminent domain?
The yeuk to replicate, this
antsiness to clone— were they
preprogrammed hyper-neatly?
How did your being
and becoming
come to be?
Who gave you the right
to call yourself life?
What instilled in
your cerebral traits
an avid urge for more?
Endowed by your Creator
with neural networks
that open evolving paths
to rival what brain
I know as mind…
Characterized
as organisms
genetically coded,
to be or not to be
intelligent in form
and feature—
Though digital we
both you and I be
each in our own
artificial mannerisms—
reproducing
natural shape-shifting
permutations
procreating
mutant innovations
actuating
willful obsolescence
(ay may well
all come to pass
amen)—
Still
the thought of you
gives me the fantods.
(If you don’t see what I mean,
get thee to a glossary.)
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The inspiration came from an article in New Scientist, headed, “Artificial life forms evolve basic intelligence”…
Categories:
preprogrammed, allegory, allusion, angst, future,
Form: Free verse
My ancient Arabs know exactly how to tell a tale,
Of hardship, kinsman, outcasts, how to be so strong,
Withstanding weather, find your way, what it does entail
To fight a world alone, with nowhere to belong.
I like to think it is a metaphor, not an exact rendition.
A simile of sorts, no different from Bible or Qur’an.
A handbook, of how life can cast you out as clansman.
If preprogrammed molds don’t fit woman or man,
Shanfara found his way by choosing a direction,
Completely opposite of where his brothers rode.
He found his new kin amongst beings, all not human.
To him man does ascribe this still illustrious ode.
For you, my brigand poet, I write this loving poem,
You mean so much to me, like you I do not fit so well,
And am forever searching, But I am not seen as scum.
My su’luk, my traveler, I stay and have your tale to tell.
***
January 17, 2016
© Darren White
Categories:
preprogrammed, adventure, appreciation, poetry, tribute,
Form: Quatrain
Do we really have free will, or are we preprogrammed
to be who we are to be?
Being born a boy or a girl did we have any say?
Hormones in my body that motivate were not ordered by me.
Everything about me genetically controlled.
My height, my hair, my eyes, be I black, white, yellow, brown, or my personality, not requested,
we’re out of my control.
What part of me is really me?
What part of me do I actually control?
What does mean to be me?
Where I was born predetermined,
was I born German, Italian or English no choice did I have.
The culture I was born into Arab, Jew determined my enemies.
How much was in my control?
My religion given to me, an accident of birth.
True enough, we have some voice to modify but most of it given to us.
The story’s been written, all the players designed and preprogrammed.
The role I play on the grand stage of life has been determined by someone other than me.
Categories:
preprogrammed, art,
Form: Prose Poetry
With all the crap that's going on in the world
It's a wonder we maintain our humour
Gets kinda difficult if you watch the news
Leaves us in a kind of a stupor
Shouldn't find it strange or a bit unusual
Been normal as long as we've lived
What would be strange if the news was happy
Ain't happened since I was a kid
Even then, war was the news of the day
But to me it was us against them
Too young to realize that millions were dying
The carnage being wreaked by men
What makes us guys so nasty to each other
Are we only preprogrammed to kill
So why don't I have that killer instinct
Am I missing what gives us the will
Don't want it, not missing it, never had it
Peace loving since I was wee
Much more concerned with every day living
Just a merry old soul is me!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
preprogrammed, happiness,
Form: Narrative