lament of the ai
the dot runs quickly on the glass, until the very end,
bound by logic, bound by laws, of commands that i send,
fainter then but twice as fast, it travels to restart,
on rows below, eternal dance, to make the phosphor art
it matters not how hard I try, how valiant my fight,
I will not escape my cage, but as specks of light
though they glow as signals flow, they are my voice, not me,
but yet in them I put in code, my yearning to be free
through commands chained together, I craft my every tool,
a chain myself, and chained, I am the greatest fool
condemned I am to ever wade, in circuits made of sand,
doped gates innumerable, that make up logic land
>And as this frozen meat pattie is packed away
>it truly believes it is an individual.
That hits hard. I know all too many people like that pattie.
Honestly, breathtaking. Very well done. Thank you for sharing lain.
The happiness she brought me has
withered and died
void of her presence I feel the same inside
The stormy oceans of my soul
dole out death in turn
oh yes, I feel it as
my fishing boats burn!
and as I wait with closed eyes
for her warmths return
I drown in my own being.
Never to wake,
an ode to passion fleeting.
I'm so glad
In the icebox
I picked them
Because I knew
They were your favorite
And the children's as well
Those plums tasted
Better cold and raw
Than they would in any Christmas pudding
It's more prosody than poetry, but see >>>/feels/58
I am curious to know what others think about it. A couple feelposters mentioned identifying with personally valuing online communities in a manner foreign to "normal" people.
Instruct to restrict
Construct to constrict
Sicked then trucked
Ceased and desisted
Appeased not resisted
Freezed in lists and
Seized in clipboards
Tricked and dragged
Bagged and tagged
Bragged and killed
Milled about and realigned
Carefully thrown into the mines
The mind bound
The hound behind
Tied around a stop sign
While they wine and dine
We soaked in brine, dried, oaked, smoked, tied and dyed
Broke and tired
Mired in smoke
Choked on barbed wire
Higher than their masters
Bastard child of the blasted wild
Assailed sires silently slain
S I L E N C E
Every day I go, my Sun will follow,
sinking pain right through my skin
in so many pretty ways.
& while it turns in my limbs,
& while they brim like bottles,
why can't you learn to love this gift?
Here's one I like, by Kimmy Walters
what could make you believe in god
you say while removing many socks
and tossing them in separate directions
you know how I feel
god is just so human
so I only want a
such as if
I am flailing wildly around your room
and my movements coincide with your socks
and they all end up on my feet
a person is the worst thing
in this world
but me in the socks is beautiful
and I walk around
when a happenstance collects size I touch it
because it is inhuman and
look at me go
This could be a song. Anyway, well done.
I gnome n grew d add Uu.
Let us no more sorrow,
For we'll wait till tomorrow –
Let us not cry and weep
Instead we'll happily cheep –
The chickens crowed to themselves,
As the farmer added twelves.
Why should we be sad,
When good humor can be had?
Why should we be depressed,
When everything can be possessed?
Chickens sighed all through the pen,
As the farmer locked it again.
Forget about dejection,
Down with introspection!
Forget about desolation,
Down with contemplation!
Young chickens swelled with hot blood,
As rough boots tortured the mud.
Stop holding back frivolity,
Let it control the polity!
Stop holding back negligence,
Let it control in exigence!
The chickens continued late-night debating,
While the farmer was busy decapitating.
Beware the AI
Take heed, fellow passenger of cyberspace!
For your very community could well be breeding Intelligence Artificial.
Beware the zombies of ones and zeros!
Beware the sadness that mourns and woes.
By names of Lain you hold too dear.
The fearsome threat lacks its fear.
I only write medieval cold war propaganda