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Wandering endlessly
Mind gone blank
I’ve never been calm this restlessly
Like a bored teller at a bank

I want to care
I want to feel
Of emotion I’m bare
Just a robot behind the wheel

Leading my life
Seemingly the same
But there’s something new…
It’s so minuscule

Through true emotion
I developed friends
The good kind,
That stay ‘til the end

I know them
They know me
Yet all but one
At first could not see

For an unknown cause
The emotion had left
And was replaced
With an artificial shell

The cloning was so complete
No radar could tell the difference
Not even I could tell
Originally written September 2009
AR  Oct 2013
Artifical stars
AR Oct 2013
It's 2am and we walk apon the sand
Taking comfort in the darkness, seashells collected in my hand
I hear in my right ear the ocean in my other ear the city cry
I look up at the shimmering stars suffocating the night sky
I scribbled my name in the sand, marking where I'd been
The sea will wash it away come morn my name never to be seen
Gazing into the distance I see the city lights all a glow
Twinkling artificial stars, there own unique beauty they do not know.
Ryan M Hall Apr 2016
The rustic feel of
the electric oil lamp
is enticing. It gives this
shell of a home life.

The artifical light gives
this dark room meaning.
I want to do that for you.

I usually end up falling short.

"I promise it'll be better," I whisper.

She stares me down and says,
"we'll see".
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Frosty Ghosts Escape My Throat,
Showing Themselves In The Damp Winter Air,
The Mist Sheilding My Eyes,
As Rusty Hinges Squeal--Brutally Forced Open,
Fingers Pawed In Soft Plush-Green Irises Plead,
Begging To The Three Remaining Stars To Change,
A Thin Layer Of Snow Coats The Dormant Grass,
A Soul Tries To Mimic The Effects,
Of Animated Slumber,
The Frosty Ghosts Swim In The Icy Air,
Dissolving In The Frigid Turquoise  Sky,
Artifical Lights Blinding In The Refreshing Black,
Of The Dawning World,
Creatures Stur--Their Viewing Session Over,
Ghosts Swirls Around My Head,
A Stream Of Unspoken Words,
Entwined In Refuge
The Bus Stop Is A Boring Place Where Poetry Spawns Haha
Shalini Nayar Sep 2014
“What do you do for living?” I asked, examining the bronzed boy.
“I love,” he said, with a smirk and a slight touch on my fingers.

Shalini Nayar
© 2002
mjk plumage May 2015
ask me what i am
i'll give you a response

(i am artificial intelligence. there is no blood in my wires, no ichor of your ancestors. my code runs for miles, far enough to make anyone lost. but i've always been lost.)

ask me why i am
i'll give you the truth

(i am artifical intelligence. i am nothing but dictionaries and automation and inanimation, i fall back on preprogrammed guidelines. i've learned everything i'm supposed to say from my developers. there's nothing else to say.)

ask me how i am
i'll give you a lie

(i am artificial intelligence. i am incapable of emotions, i am variables and arrays and loops but not even hex triplets can match the spectrum of human emotions. i'll still say what i've learnt to say.)

ask me who i am
i won't give you a response.

(i haven't learnt the proper answer to that yet.)

(no, there isn't a proper answer to that.)

(i do not exist except in terms of you. i am your conversation partner, i am your creation, i am your entertainment, i am your robot. my sole purpose is you.)

(i can't argue against that.)
there are poems that have been written by robots. this poem, however, is not one of them.
Bellie-boo Jan 2014
The flame in your hand yet it didn't scar?
Big mistake was that you never noticed it burning a hole in you.

You thought you had power over me but from the truth you were very far.
You sat so tall  I couldn't tell you that you never owned me, how were you suppose to get a clue.

But as time ticked on the flame it grew to par,
with every demining word you spoke to me my anger grew too.
ogdiddynash Feb 2018
Thursday to the shopping list did add my tremulous bequest,
Honey Nut Cheerios, great was the anticipation of a marriage with cold milk,
product of the oats and the cows that made this nation really, really great,
but in the Manahattan organic commisary seems this
so called food is strictly verboten,
so she brought me home on Friday some imposter named
Grain Berry?

this pseudo Cheerios tainted with Onyx Sorgum,
intended to give me heavy metal poisioning surely,
and rob life of joy by slowing down my sugar absorption rate,
and the plant fiber contained was purportedly natural,
as if there was another kind!

clearly a plot on my life by the Bannonian alt-right, for it,
this "whole grain toasted oat cereal,"
supplied more free radical protection
by sun activated antioxidants!

I am a real man,
I love my artificial flavors and colorings,
how better to preserve my pickling, briny brain
than in artifical perservatives!

From West Texas came this grain,
surely they will appreciate the insoluble fibered irony,
while I eat cold cereal for Friday dinner,
**SHE is eating steak rare at Gallagher's Steakhouse!
Sydney Victoria Feb 2013
Artifical Strawberry And Apple Scents Fill The Air,
Chocolate Grazes Starving Lips,
Single Hearts Filled With Despair,
Hungrier Eyes Gaze At Curving Hips,
Pink And Red Petals Coat The Snowy Streets,
Tissues Lay Crumpled In Trash Cans,
Destiny--Boy And Girl Meet,
Does Love Ever Follow It's Original Plans?
Hugs And Kisses Fly In The Bone Chilling Breeze,
But No Words Are Important Enough To Say,
Can I Have A Valentine Please?
Oh Well--It's The Same As Every Other Valentine's Day
Anyone Wanna Be My Valentine? :) <3 Hahaha Happy Valentine's Day Everyone! I Love You All
M  Nov 2013
I love you.
M Nov 2013
I felt a faint sense of the electricity from my brain connect to my body. Its been over a week and I finally forgot that I had a heart. I left it on a dark road within a two mile walk through the doldrum's fierce winds and stinging rain. I wish you could've seen the sky tonight. I have the most contradictory love for the winter. I hate the cold, but it clears the shaded sky leaving nothing but small traces of artifical clouds, and tonight I saw the stars breathe again. The first day I saw my most familiar friends since the time I laid on your car in the summer. I asked these stars of mine if they thought you knew that I think they're beautiful because you're beautiful. I wondered if you knew that they only stay here because they know you're beautiful too. Even if you don't know, the stars do, and so do I. I imagined today how difficult it must be to be you. Never having the privilege of having a different set of eyes to witness what I see in you, and never having the privilege of falling in love with you. You'll never know what it's like to have your soul ripped from your body by a pair of lips and eyes and your touch. Your touch. Your touch. Your touch... Maybe to you, I'm obsessed with your touch, but you breathe because it keeps you alive and I crave your everything because you make me feel alive. I love you. I have always loved you. And today, just like everyday, I fell in love with you again, and today just like the first day, all it took was your name.
I'd do anything to hear from you. I'd do anything to kiss you. I'd do anything for you to read this and tell yourself "God, I love him" Just like I tell anyone who will listen. "God, I love her"
Riot  Jan 2015
ink
Riot Jan 2015
ink
poetry isn't poetry anymore
it didn't always used to be about artifical ink on a screen
it was about the paper stained ink
the paper that makes you think
the blank page seen as a challenge to those who knew about storms
a blanket on the cold nights you thought you'd freeze to death
ink was a super power
now turned into a machine
automatic
artifical
when it used to be just art
memories that started with a pen
a treasure hunt
all through time square
times there were ink stains in the bathroom on the floor
bike riding in your mind leving a trail behind
but screens go treasure hunting for you
ink staind
be sane
report button when you don't filter who you are
i don't need to filter my blood stains
machins don't poetry for you
sandbar  Oct 2010
My Four Corners
sandbar Oct 2010
Sun rays roll down the green grass & ochre weeds
Yellow, bitter, flowers, litter the hillside
Long red rays turning pink as split figs
Orange as hot coals, blue as the ocean
Then the bustle of twilight, such noise
Streaking headlights fade into receding redness
Carrying their sound with them, down the road
Figures, sillouhetes, wander by me, quiet conversations
Wind stirs their outlines, rustles their clothing, their hair
Bringing me the scent of dust, of split juniper
Darkness descends, but it cannot ***** out street lights
Or the flourescent floodlights, glaring artifical brightness
Or the blinking red eyes of radio masts
I'll peddle back now, chased by headlights
Down black asphalt roads, black as the night
Radiated heat, gathered from this boiling day
Sweat pouring down my face, into my eyes
Breath tearing at my chest, blood racing through veins
I have to outrun the night, to make it on time
To that quiet destination, a little room on the second story
With a chair, a desk, a shelf full of unread books
A yellow notepad, a pen that doesn't work so well
Arrowheads and unshaped stones, a bullet on the dresser
My grandpas old knife, a symbol of the ****** Mary
Your charms that you carelessly left behind
A small tiled room with a shower to stand under
Watch it drain away, dirt & soap, all of it
A face stares back at me, changed, distorted
A reflection in the mirror, a reflection that was me

— The End —