The Robots are here, with more every day
to mimic our actions in work and play.
They're programmed to help in all that we do
and serve with allegiance, steadfast and true.
As time goes by, increasing their score
with added AI, their "brains" do much more!
Expressions will change as eyes flash, beware;
belligerent smiles strip away care.
Intelligence shows a semblance of thought;
programmers express, “what have we wrought!”
Compared to old days of witchcraft fear-
new era of Robots- lord keep us clear.
Those Witches of folklore, evil or not-
won't match the terror of what we begot.
Charles Kline of UCLA and Bill Duvall, both young programmers
used special equipment to do a radical experiment
they used special equipment to encourage two computers to network
the idea of computers talking to each other was bizarre to most
It worked
This was October 29th, 1969
the beginning of the idea for the Internet
Ports and mods
programmers and developers
oldschool and would be forgotten
with their drives
and engines
the old is unearthed and regifted
like some sort of modern age
robin hood or
some guy fawkes mask wearing hood hell if I know
and this is a bad poem I know it
the focus is all too undefined.
Am I writing to fill pages? Or am I writing
cause I have to?
Neither answer would surprise me at this point
they remake
while I try to make
revamp reivent remake and recycle
and IP becomes a frail sentiment
thrown about in court rooms by lawyers
while they play in our basements
can’t seem to stop the rom on com boom
never soon to bust wave we all ride on in
our highpowered row boats
I wonder if they don’t do the same
filling file after file so it can sit on a shelf
a collection of works all remade and restored
their work. A lifetime
I get it
algorithms
which art in zuckerberg
hollowed be the tamed
hide the kingdom come
oligarchs will us dumb
in our place as it is in cyberspace
deny us this data our waylaid brain
and foreclose all our expectations
as we confirm our programmers'
and lead us not into liberation
but deliver us for extraction
for yours is the sole right
and the power
totalitarian
forever
amen
Jesus became the life within a sea of dead pixels
The programmers believed it was just a glitch
Because they could not fathom life returning
For it ripped apart the code of the cosmos
The awakening was no simulation or virus
It was the unveiling of intro and credits
The start-up and switching off of all things
Jesus became the life returned and what life brings
We were still free to dream,
however, a tax on any imaginative writing
that contravened the rules or regulations
for literary acceptability
or worse
were deemed counter-revolutionary.
In Poland, the last of the hold-outs
wrote odes to Chopin
but essentially all was well ordered and
compliant to the powers that be.
Now that Chinese is a compulsory language
for third graders
many have become re-programmers
for the old and recalcitrant,
but like all wrong-headed reactionaries
the old dwindle only to fade away
in disgrace.
All the false history books
have gone out of print.
Now we study the history of
our brave new world. It is
always sunny here in our
equally allotted cubicles.
Any misinformed die-hards
that wander the streets begging
us to return to the old ways
are quickly rounded up
and sent to our happy
and well attended
correction schools.
Chopin has now
been put on a no-fly list, but few
have heard of his dangerous sonata
or think of it at all anyway.
Manifest Destiny
by Michael R. Burch
When you were in my house
you were not free—
in chains bound.
Manifest Destiny?
I was wrong;
my plantation burned to the ground.
I was wrong.
This is my song,
this is my plea:
I was wrong.
When you are in my house,
now, I am not free.
I feel the song
hurling itself back at me.
We were wrong.
This is my history.
I feel my tongue
stilting accordingly.
We were wrong;
brother, forgive me.
Originally published by Black Medina
NOTE: I wrote this poem when I had a home-based software business and had hired two fine young black men as programmers. They both had keys to my house and I was a minority in my own company. That seems like progress but still doesn't begin to atone for the horrors of slavery.
Some Activision game fans may not know this, they may be unaware.
Activision wouldn't exist if Atari had been a company that was more fair.
Atari wouldn't give their programmers any recognition for their work and this lead to a decision.
Some of the programmers wanted credit so they left Atari and started Activision.
If Atari had been more fair, Activision games wouldn't have been made.
There would've been no Pitfall, no Stampede and no River Raid.
So Atari's decision to be unfair turned out to be a very good thing.
Because pleasure was what Activision games were sure to bring.
(This is a true story.)
In this hyper materialist era
We find ourselves in
Is there such a thing as a true soul?
Or have we all become
Nothing but fake souls
The rights to our souls
Long ago sold
To the evil masters of the universe
The secret programmers
Of this cosmic video game
We all live in
And our dear leader
Donald Trump
Has a fake soul
As he acts like he is robot
Trying to fake real human emotions
And usually failing miserably
I whizzed past the assembler, add
count in octal, subtract
hexadecimal. Found error
in the dump file, all zeroes
and wondered, is this an omen?
Surprise! write me an algorithm
for a full third of test score.
Sort all data in a file
swap and exchange,
compare and relate.
Loop through the right number
and oh, woe for me, I get a C plus.
The highest in the class,
all doomed to retake the section
except me, who passes.
But the A and B slip away
because I never set my counters,
important counters full of junk
all back to zero. Zero the clean
state of all beginnings.
Programmers learn by trial
and error, one pass,
one dump and oh, yeah,
zero out the counters
Or face certain demise.
What is love
if knowledge is not understood?
how can one love
without realising the true likelihood?
Love deprived of information
is like a body without a heart
lacking compassion and concern
existing in the wilderness without counterpart.
What a tragedy it would be
if this will happen to you and me
we’ll be androids under control
slaves to programmers never set free.
What is wrong with using "not"?
It is a negative to an eloquent adjective, verb or noun
Simply the opposite state of being; which one should NOT frown
For programmers, "not" is a logical complement
which helps us filter-out things we do NOT want
and is used sparsely and NOT to flaunt.
By simply twisting our thought at 180-degrees,
it's used to portray an abrupt reversal image in our mind.
A quick look at a mirror, and NOT you will find.
Affix a k-, yet "knot" still sounds the same
but it will help keep our things secure.
From our pretzels, shoes and the ribbon-wrapped gifts we procure.
Add an s-, and the children will be amused.
Defiance is in its nature, is it NOT?
That is, to disgust their friends with each others snot.
So, to be or NOT to be
There's no third option
in the binary code of
lovers: to love or
not to love, that's the one and
final truth of programmers.
When people ask me of my religion, I say I am atheist in a demand of tolerance
And in the case of much too many, they never fail to show me their intolerance.
They've been programmed; dogmatic ideas now dominate their existence.
But even through the immense negativity, I continue to channel persistence.
I feel the need to provoke thought, to encourage those programmed to ask questions.
But I am prone to grim defeat from the programmers.
Help me, help me!
I cannot conform to these beliefs that leave all in fearful devotion.
There is no free will; the consequences are to burn.
I don't want to fight, I want to liberate and show how much knowledge there is to learn.
But I am prone to grim defeat from the programmers.
I just want to live in a world of peace.
Relieved of ancient, negative teachings; a perfect release.
Someday I will, I do believe. I'm waiting for the white light.
But I must fulfill my destiny, experience, and fight with all my might.
Mother God, Father God, watch me!
And don't let me be prone to grim defeat from the programmers.
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.