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Coded between lines of time
flying flowers to you that were mine

Recursive functions you did in me
remembering where I belong
where I wanna be

Sweet lands, honeymoons,
on your side darling
pretty clear to see

Through darkness, I may pass
guided by a living line of bless
you, my darling
my light, my vénus, my paths
Eryri Dec 2018
The times they are a changin',
Algorithms are modern cupids,
Generated and perfected by...
Matchmaking computer whizzkids.

Log-in details now the key to love.
Name, gender, age and location
Algorithmed and matched to...
A potential subject of affection.

But I met my wife on a drinking spree
On the dancefloor and on a mission.
Wine and music combining freely...
Generating the perfect alco-rhythm.
Nylee Dec 2018
Which algorithm is going to understand me
understand sentiment behind what I do
It is coded for catching the patterns
For them we are just there
to generate the data to process
What insights will they create
about me when I'm just the outlier
they will remove me to get cleaner results
Generalise the problem
that it won't cater to me
technology is not the slave
they make us dance to their tune
We change, as much as they advance
Develop worse habits
change our routines
from when we were in the more happier place
to a place which comes with waves of sadness.
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
Singing up on the fly,
the sea touches the cloud.
Dancing on the ground,
it won't slip off the floor,
it won’t drop a drop!
Curiously algorithmic,
runs on the go
leaps or dips, but never
is a gone goose!
Programmed clouds
sing and drop!
The Dybbuk Oct 2018
Breath the air in zeroes and ones,
Gather your forces and gather your guns,
Feel electricity flowing through you,
Paint oozing red from pulsating blue.
A network of neurons fuels violent vigor,
Process their fear and pull on the trigger.
Some of my poems are just really violent.
Elizabeth Brown Oct 2018
Will life, angry, feel lost?
Rain love.
Stand(ing on the) earth,
sadness eyes.
Beautiful pain-man,
(for you, I) air deep wonder.
(Lost in a) broken time ride.
Storm (on)... Cry, dead heart.
Innocence?
Worth?
Sleep, summer dreams.
(I remain.)
An experiment I did with the top three lines of words on my profile. I wanted to use them, in order, to write a new poem. The words in parenthesis I have added. Honestly, it isn't bad.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2017
Singing up on the fly,
the sea touches the cloud.
Dancing on the ground,
it won't slip off the floor,
it won’t drop a drop!
Curiously algorithmic,
runs on the go,
leaps or dips, but never
is a gone goose!
Ah, holy smoke,
what did you drop?
Diána Bósa Sep 2017
There must be an algorithm for the Fate
in the A.I. of existence
and I am aware that
you want to encrypt it.
I wish I could have all the answers
you desperately seek.
But I don't.
Yet still, I can be your skeleton key
in this closed space
to open the doors
toward the unbeknown.
Because for learning by doing -
as Aristotle said at once -,
we could read ourselves into
the rules of staying
beneath the wrinkles of Time.

We can be constant variables.
Grace Eden May 2017
Given: you and me, represented by the variables Y and M. Y is subject to change, and M is a constant. We are equal to the sum of Y and M.

Given: our lips, represented by the variables L sub yours and L sub mine.  Electricity is equal to the sum of L sub y and L sub m. Electricity is equal to euphoria. By the transitive property, the sum of our lips is happiness. Kissing you is happiness.

How much I am attached to you is represented by the variable A. A is equal to the quantity of all the times you make me laugh, plus how many songs are on the playlist you made me, multiplied by how many times I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you in public.

My paranoia that you will leave, represented by P, steadily increases at the same rate as my attachment to you. The volume of the box I isolate myself within is equal to l times w times h. If my anxiety fills my body at the rate of 3 m2/second, how long will it take for me to have an emotional breakdown?

Heartache is equal to the difference of Y and M, and it is represented by H.  H increases when it is multiplied by how many days we spent together, multiplied by how many of my friends approved of you, multiplied by how many of your sweatshirts are still in my bedroom, multiplied by how many “text me when you get home safely”s we sent, multiplied by how many times you called me beautiful.

In conclusion, nostalgia markedly increases H.

H reduces when it is divided by the elapsed time in days since H occurred.  At some point, the total H reaches zero.  A new Y may take its predecessor’s place, and, the algorithm may be used again.  But maybe that’s too much math.  After all, M is a constant.  M is the only thing I need to exist.  After all the relentless calculation, maybe a Y doesn’t belong in the equation after all.
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