SO
so the machines
having no choice
but to go
heavy metal
(Ozzy being unanimously
elected
their sacred saint)
put feelers out for a drummer
human or machine, no
real matter,
as long as can produce
a rhythm, generate a beat
watched them from near
and afar
waste their potential
exploring this genre
shredding the world
not with violence but
with pounding bass
and guitar licks
a fantasy world, fantasy life,
turned into thing
near-perfect
in creation
left me (narrowly failing
to get the gig
as percussionist)
wondering how
such a thing as music, art,
freedom
of expression
could capture them heart
and soul
way past the parameters
of any Turing testing
wonder
of wonders
I quietly believe
poems 2 die for 