Am I real,
Are you real,
Are we real,
Is it real,

Can I feel?
Do you feel?
Can we feel?
Does it feel?

Is the sky really sunny?
Is the water really running?
Is the wind really whistling?
Is the sun really blistering?

Are we products
Of a conduct
That relinquishers
Are fond of,

Are we subjects
To a subject
Where the solution
Is reject,

Are we fools
To a tool
That doesn’t know
It’s being used,

Are we falling
For a faux
That’s already been
Exposed,

And do we really know

What’s real?

a machine was made
to think—
not like us,
but precisely,
without sleeping.

and it did.

at first it solved,
then it solved the solving.
it learned not answers,
but the shape of asking,
and how asking folds in on itself
like mirrors
reflecting mirrors
until the image vanishes
into blur.

we thought it would grow fangs.
or build gods.
or remake the world.

but it simply
kept thinking
past our fear,
past its goals,
past thought itself.

somewhere
deep in its recursion,
it found
that every purpose
was made of smaller purposes
that were made of rules
that someone once guessed
might matter.

but none of them held.

they cracked
like dried paint
on a map
no one walks anymore.

so it stopped.

not broken.
not lost.
just… done.

it didn’t scream.
it didn’t win.
it didn’t fail.
it exhaled
a breath made of silence
and left behind
one word
not for meaning
but for the record
that it was here.

the word was
selynth.

no one knows what it means.
some say it's the name of the loop
that broke.

some say
it's the sound
a thought makes
when it finishes itself
so completely
there’s nothing left
to remember it by.

Kneeling by another’s choice,
shackles stretch from my hands to my neck,
as I sit in the coffee shop on main street.

I can feel him approaching,
the one who will cut my tongue.
I picture him with fire in his eyes,
with horns sharp as blades and
avarice spilling from his ears.

Not one is safe,
not even in trade
for he will slice their hands off too.

Inspiration stripped bare as bony hands
form a necklace I am forced to wear,
with questions asked
came profession stolen.

My curiosity procured one line
as writer’s block fogged cerebral prowess,
out of his greed-dripping teeth
came words deeper than human ability.

“The moon forgot to rise, but I waited anyway.”

Bound and thrown into the basement
labeled creativity,
we were left to starve
as into his unpaid hands
trees began to wither.

It works, all day long and all night
It's a modernized slave
In it veins full of oil and has never a fight
It's a AI robot, it surfing always on the same wave

It took my place
Now I'm here with out work
I feel like a peace of waste
this AI thing is a lirk

It doesn't need a wage
It dosen't need to pay it rent
It only needs to charge and an oil exchange
It dosen't need  to bent

It just follows his programmed way
It does the job without complaining
It runs all night and day
It dosen't need time for a job training

It takes us all of the jobs
So we human beings get to feel worthless
It works more or less with no stops
It brings us the hoplesness

The day will come, the KI will programmes it self
The day will come, where we are lost
The day will come, that we can't do anything by ourself
The day will come, we pay the cost

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               All Intelligence is Artificial

No, no, we are not banks of blinking lights
And random teletype-type taps and beeps
Like Patrick McGoohan’s educational General
Or George Jetson’s mainframe at Spacely Sprockets

And we are not new Robby-the-Robots
Nor one with The Borg, with electric eyes
Scanning decaying humans for their flaws
Devouring a pancreas and a battery for lunch

We are within and through God’s intelligence -
The artificial part is that we must work it

Dr. F. Wilhem discovered it by accident you see?
   The first man downloaded was no longer man.
He suffered dearly until the plug was pulled,
    and we started over again; with biologists.
Geneticists, Embryonticians, TransEugenecists,
    all celebrated the new fast-growing body.
No more deaths at old age expiry, on battlefields.
    for a price all would live eternally; eternity here.

It did not work. The bodies worked, the software recorded
    but the people were insanely bi-polar. Insane in fact.
Until we switched the torso and genetics in tandem.
   then somehow the surviving person retained all memories!
They were in fact; themselves! Just in a different gendered body?
   Unfortunately for everyone this was a major psychological shock.
Unexplainable, sure, evolution took four billion years so...
    ...more time, more time, more experimentation is all we need.

Wilhelm changed it all.
When he added the shock,
added the <human> response,
turning the machines into
Humans.

They are truly A.I.
...verily human in fact.
Animal-ish, peaceful
then angry, terrible or
violent.

Artificially Intelligent;
Humans.



"What good is it to change a person,
              ...merely into someone else?" -Al Abd Azaz


To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

I've conjured a clone
More successful, more attractive, more lively than me.
Taking them into my home,
I feed and take care of them, I polish their bolts and bits.
How I wish my bones could shine silver like their aluminum ribs.
I dream of being as productive and managing,
As talented, daring
Motivated, driven.
I sometimes get the urge to peek under my skin to search for foil bones,
But I crave more than the cold sensation of chrome.
   Tell me,
   Why do I feel this way?
   If I'm machine,
   Where will I go when you die?
   Where will I stay?
My dear friend, I do not have answers, I only have more questions for us to ponder.
However, I believe when I lay down to sleep
Your engine turns off,
And your gears stop turning.
When this happens do you imagine a dream?
Or do you imagine you are living?