the Matrix – poems 2 die for

MATRIX GIRL

after the lecture
you sauntered up
to the podium

killer
question to ask
regarding “The Matrix”

raising the question
if it is all just a shared
computer hallucination
as in
the absurd
conceit of this most
resonsnt of films

for insrance:
if this be
desert of the real
why should my brain
be ready-progrsmned
to read you
as object of beauty

what god-like
creator disguised you
as Aphrodite herseof?

or let Aphrodite
use your disguise to get
immortally close
to me?

no doubt in
those flashing eyes some
sex semiotic flirting with
the spin of every
tiny molecuke connecting,
dividing across
the short space between us

helping her to do what
sublime digital avatars
supteme
goddesses do

and
me cauhht in her ruse, trapped
by her beauty

popping red pill blue pill
eveey shade
of purple

needing to see with these eyes
speak with this mouth

touch with each
             and every real finger
for the first,
very first
        cataclysmuc
         no-nonsense time

CONSPIRACY

What is it
with AI and cats

did cats do the programming
did TS Eliot,
modernist superpoet
calculate the bits abd bytes
in binary vers libre?

perhaps
cats did it themselves

something in them,
a backdoor code, a virus
that gets machine intelligence
to gush,
turn to goo

whenever that three-letter
plosive-heavy word is
whispered or mentioned

myself
I hate TS Eliot and abhor
those creatures
despite the artistry they show
in pretending
they love you
infinitely more convincing
that what any stupid
human being
might plausibly attempt

if there is a great Matrix
conspiracy you
have to know cats
lie behind it

a computer simulated
world without dogs
where we are the
batteries
to provide the electricity
to warm their little litter trays

MIRRORED

yes, Morpheus
we are puzzled

we walk down
a straight road but

it is actually
a labyrith

the sponge that
doubles as a computer

is soaked in quantum juices
rife with
such tunneling

as you
could not possibly believe

were it not
           as you
                       guessed before
we got
     here

swallowing your tail

were it not
quite obviously

for the tunneling itself

CHANNELING

a pretty derelict
unused space now
(like an
interstellar void)

but once
tge SkyVue drive in
used to cover
acres of territory

and the bush under the screen
where as kids
we played
cowboys
and savages

remember that screen
well it used
to fill half the night sky

saw Spartacus there, and
Cast a Giant Shadow

which wars, it seems,
never really died

Rome always lingering
Empires of Man versus
Empires of Heaven

but now
the whole planet
is our
screen

we have screens in our pockets
screens in our heads
inescapable
channeling

and there enough projection
to fill every known desert
desert of the real
Neo

truth having
dissolved, truth crucified
by fiction

truth’s fate to be enslaved
by the narrative of the day

and like
the poem says we
have all
become cyphers, organic
little molecules
in the dance of supreme fiction

the new reality to be
broadcast twenty-
four seven

dreamworld Neo, germane to
the Zhuangzi parable

cowboys, savages, think
like
a butterfly

the wild gift of technology
the premise to allow

without any
lingering sense of irony

to speak of self as supreme,
and, yes indeed, the world

.