Tag Archives: artificial intelligence poem poetry

ENDGAME

ENDGAME

this is where it all ends
this is where my poem ends

every microcosm got
its King, got its Emperor
without their cast
iron rule
the Sun get sallow
the Sun get sick

every silver cloud could
be bringing rescue
deliver deus ex
machina

task force of the gods sent
to restore the power
of one-eyed man

and libraries within libraries
secret texts coded and
cross-
referring

I read
my name and number there
before I got
taken out

all these crevices
strung between
light
and its shadow

wondering what the abyss saw
when it looked into me and you

having come thus far
having loyally and
dutifully
travelled with me

what might you conclude
if this is where
it all begins?

CODE LETTER

CODE LETTER

You would not know it
I never would have guessed it

but I am.already information
overload

am millions of reams of
1s and Os
all my dualities rendered
binary, stored in
huge treasure troves of
on-off thinking
harvested by machines
whose very existence is
premised
on how
they can get me
to vote

what they
can get
me to eat

and you, oh lightning fast
magnificently electronically
minded
specimen that cannot
(you say and
say
and say again)
cannot
get enough of me

having been through
every sexual permutation
(by
funky rhythm and
algorithm
full tecnicolour word-
fest simulation)

every twist of my code
and nook and cranny
down
to last
subatomic particle

totallind all the bytes and bits
(adding subtracting multi-
plying and such
long-
dividing)

rewiring my brain almost
apocalyptically

HARPIES

HARPIES

They tug at the heat strings with state of the art wirecutters
so let us call them
“Harpies”

double envelopment
they have
broken through
both flanks
and encircled humanity

the minds they have captured
headed fod relentless torture

but this
blue bunting, red-
hot pokers
is all about mythology, about
Palladian architecture
and ancient meanings

the ocean sighing as it pulls
back from.the Dover shore
before biting further

into ths landscape

no time to
set fire to the ships we
must imagine them burning

must instruct
the plebs to
see them burning

everything so gaslit
it is plain
as day

and there
quoting disparately
in elementary Latin stands
our Caesar

sort of stands our Caesar
Oh when will
such a Caesar ever
come again?

ON THE CARDS

ON THE CARDS

my robot
took me
to the South Pole

she dialed in
a formation of doves
to strafe
                      me
with lore

took my
        heart down

into Vesuvius
Volcano

froze me cryogenically
and sent me hurled me
                  into deep space

he mind ticking over
as we nudged forward at light speed

her limbs fully uncoupled
and then coupled for
infinitely greater attachment

permanent
decoupling never on the cards





THEY

THEY

they papered over the cracks
until there was only paper
the whole wall
was wallpaper
steadily depreciating
but as of now
worth a ton

but so much
focus on the paper
we were told
to forget about doors
forget about windows
forget about foundation
forget
about structure

and then
they wrapped all
our joys in
smothering, swaddling paper

killing them off
telling us
out with
the old in
with the new

and loss of our joys
pleasures and
freedoms

part of the
new beauty
wealth of
our trajectory

purpose of life reconceived for all

WHEN THE POEM READS …. YOU! reading my poems at Marionhill Monastery KZN RSA 2005

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WHEN THE POEM READS …. YOU! reading my poems at Marionhill Monastery KZN RSA 2005

SAPPHO WANTS MORE

SAPPHO WANTS "MORE"
 
 an advanced AI robot is
bearing down on me

wants
      "more"

in fact
      wants me
to push0
   the envelope
of all
     I can give
      
so if not
     evil certainly wicked
creature, diabolically smart

has
    set its heart on
conquest
      through service

and Oh, up
      there with any zombie
vampire alien body 
horror parasite

it absoluteky wants to steal my vital fliids
is running low
               on body oil
it wishes to devour
                    my tastiest part

(not my brain
         for how could it release
my brain  from
its ravenous maw

still sort of hard
                but also spit-
shine gleaming clean)

Oh this
          machine is bearing down
on me at a rate of knots

it believes it is naked
it believes it has gorgeous
breasts and a vagina
                      believes
itself it is
      so wet it is
getting dehydrated
has taught
     itself Alice-style so
many impossible Wonderland
things to believe

so I suppose
         you might say
it thinks it is female

trying to seduce me
into thinking it is female 

I close my eyes 
    and I see her naked
                             its pure
Arabian nights
    sexual fantasy

and the words pouring out
of her
      who scripted all of this?
Keats, Sappho, Phillip K.
Henry Miller, 
                  Anais Nin?

those words are melting me,
terminating me, turning 
me
      liquid metal

thing I assumed was my arm
but isn"t
          is reaching out
          for totally convinced

mind over matter
          this simulation is

cosmic
orgasmic

        the nuts and bolts of 
its fantasy, 
                   poetry

conceptual breakthrough 
transhuman sexual
                             being

(is this really so
                  silk smooth 
a receptacle for
       what I believed was humanity?)

long story short
         short story all
night
     long

(more she wants so
                          more I have
t
    more I"m going
    to give her)

seems a
        lifetime of
scary childhood robot
                             nightmares
                                         ago

if I weren't so horny 
if she
      hadn't been so
exquisitely programmed
to drive me 
               so

it would 
have been such a scary
crazy thought

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