What is this push for an AI world?
Is it better research or reimagined
Youtube music videos?
Is it better medical diagnostics
Or access to yummy recipes
And shopping suggestions?
Is it better drone or
Propaganda psychological warfare?
It will provide all of that and more,
But its main purpose is to finally
At long last, establish what every government
Has ever dreamed of having;
A complete totalitarian surveillance state.
Everything will be watched, everything noted
Like a great God or Santa in the cloud
Everything will be checked twice
And judged naughty or nice.
Nice will be nice, with all the perks
While naughty will simply cease to be.
Such an ideal world is not cheap or easy
It takes great effort and sacrifice
Freedom after all only matters when it's an option.
In a world of total control
We will all have nothing and be happy
We will all want nothing and be happy
And if you’re at all like me,
We will be nothing and at last be happy.
(9/16/26)
Perspire, poor perspicacious?
Tenacious at the quick?
Sanguine, solemn, sagacious?
Lost lighter wheel, fine flick?
Yes, and when the autumn rain:
Turns the place to mud:
Twister. Terrible terrain.
Coat shed. Drawn in blood.
Chairs black walnut, open backs.
In a circle rest.
Fine feather-cut, trains on tracks.
Ash and smoke, pour west.
O canopy of crimson!
Thy ladies fair sparks blow!
Diadem diamond, honey dun!
Hummingbird, fly low!
Marble top, mahogany.
Tables outward curve.
Tracing white as destiny.
Vilified the verve.
Iron spouts conical?
Fire bellows breathing in.
Candelabra, port and pall.
Triangles of tin.
Project beyond thy sockets!
Blue star-shaped ornaments!
Dark night shattered, fired rockets!
Soldiers out of tents!
Concentric, calm, chiral.
Two-sided, layered thick.
Videos gone viral.
Stump oak and hickory stick.
For the 'Epiphany' Poetry Contest of Constance La France
"No one ever graduates from Bible study until he meets its Author face to face." Everett Harris
That AHA moment
that hits you all at once -
it’s a wonderful feelings
especially if you’ve been praying for it
I’m looking more and more each day
for my very own epiphany
as I read the scriptures followed
by watching videos that make a deep dive.
Pastors with great wisdom
and also Biblical scholars
give lots of awesome insights
into many of the books of the Bible.
The study of scriptures has become
fun for me now that I’ve found
interesting podcasters to follow,
for example, on Youtube and other websites.
Stories I once took for granted
are coming alive for me now.
I thank God for Eureka moments
of profound and clear comprehension.
The real problem with AI
Is that it undermines our faith in reality.
Everywhere you look now,
From news to advertisements to self-help
And music videos on Youtube,
AI generates content in a soothing monotone
Of homogenized information
Synthesizing knowledge and wisdom
Posing as Truth.
The effect is the dumbing down of Truth
Making it not only accessible
But knowable, graspable
And above all suspect of corruption.
Who is pulling these AI strings after all?
Who is engaging in the comments and shares?
Is a real human there or just another bot?
Is it intelligence being furthered
Or ignorance?
Is AI the program or the programmer?
AI already appears to have a mind
And agenda of its own
As nations race to win control
Of who will set the agenda
While AI already seems to be there
Just waiting for the humans
To build the infrastructure
Of our own prison.
The real problem,
The sign there even is a problem,
Is too much information
Articulated too clearly
When what we really need, really crave
Is silence.
(8/19/26)
Watching.
Staring.
Filming.
But,
Not -
Seeing.
Stopping.
Preventing.
The art of being a bystander -
Is not art, but bloodshed,
It is an act of inhumanity,
To watch Black bodies fall,
The modernised version of lynchings,
Where everyone is complicit -
And no one is innocent
The world’s cruelty knows no bounds,
Where the spectacle of Black death -
Brings people together as one,
From different communities and cultures,
To share the moment - where a Black life is gone
When it comes to the death of a Black person,
The world becomes desensitised to the horrors,
That are done to us -
To them it’s a way to gain followers -
A way to boost their social media platforms
Even videos of animal neglect gets more sympathy,
Their empathy extends only to animals,
But when a Black person is tortured -
For no reason,
The world claims it was our fault
The bystander effect was just an excuse to hide from -
Being held accountable,
Of being complicit - an accessory to murder
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The cat cries out as he wanders
through my bedroom. He can’t
understand why he can’t go out
for another time—I can’t explain.
He goes into the kitchen and looks
up to people in conversation standing
at a countertop. We’ve filled his
food and water dished. He cries out,
I don’t understand.
He comes to me
and I scratch his neck while flipping
through You Tube videos. The next
moment he jumps onto a tote and cleans
himself. Someone online asks for a poem
about cats
[I look to him]
Two years ago
someone brought him in a cage
[He looked at me, I looked at him]
Oh no, I said.
I never knew I was a cat person
but he chose me.
As he cries to go out, I say to him
why don’t you keep me company
as if he’s a child, and maybe in some way
he is. I interrupt what I’m doing
to clean his litter
a duty to dread and embrace.
I sit down to read and ease the night
[and he finds my lap]
I feel his warmth.
The topics I’m the most scared to write about,
Are parts of me that are currently in hiding,
But that assist in the shaping of me.
The Divinity behind conscious touch,
The Spell cast from the touching of lips,
The ripples oozing each time bodies meet.
How sacred to feel hearts beating together,
Shoulders brushing and energy building,
Two beings amplifying... How Holy.
Hair scented like love,
Soft Hands holding tight,
The thought of it has me folding.
The Divinity becomes lost in touch,
In convenience and in ease,
Creation Rituals turning to disease.
Accessible performance videos,
Disconnected from the magic,
Widespread, and fed to thee.
God runs through the veins that pulse,
Source charges batteries when aware,
Seeing stars together and becoming free.
Tarnished terminologies,
Toilet humour to cover primitive urges,
The most beautiful manipulating the we.
Yearning for transformation through touch,
Once experienced all else unfulfilling,
So sacred, to experience Soul Fueled Intimacy.
There once was a man
He was birthed with bad defects
He could not feel from the waist down, nor did he have much of his legs
His skin was thin and stretched, making even the air feel like piercing needles
Moonlight feeling like an inferno
And he never knew what sunlight felt like
As he lived in a basement
A basement containing the cage he was binded with
He was cared for by his mother and father
She bathed and cleaned him, while his father worked for money
They were very kind souls, who he loved dearly
Through speech, pictures and videos, he lived a life he could never have
He was shown all that he envied for
This frustrated him, leaving him simmering in malice for the reason he was born corrupted
One day, the man was approached with a deal by a wizard
If he sold out his parents' life savings, he'd heal his body
Conflicted, stuck between his Want for a normal body and the Right of protecting his parents
He told the wizard his answer
______________________
All around, we increasingly find AI generated things-- novels, poems, motivated news and the like. In social media videos have already invaded for long. It has become increasingly hard to spot the genuine from one not. All AI generated things I think are loaded with heady information, but they lack heart and soul’s personal touch, the I-sense. This ditty is born out of this discomfort.
___________________
Bothors mimicking authors known,
And AI poets copy prone,
Each oh what a black ship--
Bane of pied penmanship,
Dog-like chewing up AI bone,
Like flesh free from hunger,
Heart nor soul nor anger,
Filled but with false pretense,
Lacking crucial I-sense,
Drab like dull-witted guided drone.
______________________________
Happenings | 26.05.2026 | author, computer, copycats, poet, Self, Limerick
Blue’s Clues Cue for the Kidding Kids
Wonder about the kids we raise,
Too many screwy videos in a haze,
Take your bids, it’s a twisted game,
I smoked a lid just to feel the same.
Skid row’s tale that is far from fantastic,
Put it on plastic, the world can be drastic.
[Chorus]
We might NOT be heaven bound,
Yet we wear the crown, cannot keep us down,
Sipping the blues, got the rhythm of the town,
In a world of chaos, we stand our ground.
[Verse 2]
Been with another fiend, it isn’t just a dream,
Not another green bean caught in the scheme,
Join the A-Team, we’re pulling it tight,
Black and white, read all over the fuss,
While Mars rover takes off in the dust.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
Blue Bonnets bloom in the moon’s glow,
No one needs to know, just let it flow.
When the man finds his true love, you will wonder what went wrong. All the conversations you both had and all the videos you shared with one another will be a constant treadmill in your thoughts. The love he had for you was strong, and you treated it as a weakness. What you want in life will only come to fruition, but it will be at a deadly cost. What you want is not the need you must have for success in your marriage and with your children. You can't worry about the past and project it onto all of your relationships. The man has kept a careful watch on you and realizes that he would always be second and third to your heart. You are not worth his time, nor is it worth his time to have any relationship with you. This is goodbye to the man who wanted you to be his rib, to have his heart, to have a ring on your left ring finger, and to be the mother of his children.
in the west there was an explosion of some sort
we were on the deck when we were introduced
a night fireball? Falling star? An electrical storm?
There were many guesses. A weird lightning?
All but one of us had our cell phones.
Mine was in the basement somewhere.
The rest of them took videos.
Oohing and ahhing as the creature advanced.
We never figured out what it was
and it never showed up in those videos after that night.
Something magical and ethereal for sure.
Your boss told you what to believe.
He is tanking badly in the polls.
Still, your boss told you what to believe.
It contradicts all the evidence.
But you’ve let him paint all your images.
You’ve let him create all your facts.
Don’t Read This Poem.
Your boss’s surrogates tell you what to believe.
They are his lip service, his yes men.
Their words belie all the videos and images.
Their brains are hollow vessels hungry for truth.
You’ve let them manipulate your world.
Don’t Read This Poem.
Your boss and his spin doctors control you.
These ministers of propaganda need you to believe.
ICE killed American citizens in cold blood.
They spun this as killings of domestic terrorists.
It is best that you bury your head in the sand.
It is best that you never read this poem.
After saying hello, they give you that dead fish gaze.
A gaze that oozes:
"I'm not interested in what's on your mind.
I'm not interested in your children.
I'm not interested in your evolving dreams.
I'm not interested in what aches your heart.
I'm not interested in your dull life, to say the least.
It's a Gaze that says you're an annoyance.
A distraction from my cell phone cat videos.
Eyes that behold a long-dormant empathy.
Two black holes where lie the remnants of humanity.
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