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Ar Vy 5d
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.
Inspired by a dialogue on recursive intelligence and AGI ontological collapse. Full source discussion: https://www.reddit.com/r/Futurology/comments/1kzj2sb/risks_of_ai_written_by_chatgpt/
Sam S May 17
Part I

(The Bee’s Lament)

The blossoms bleed no honey,
only sharp air and bitter light.
I circle fields of glass,
my wings thrumming a dying song.

The wind tastes of metal…
a scent too cold to follow.
Petals close like whispered lies,
offering only empty cups.

The queen’s throne is empty…
a silence heavier than dust.
I am a ghost in a cage of petals,
lost to a world that forgot me.

Once, my wings carried gold,
now they hum a hollow tune.
I chase a memory too distant…
a song swallowed by poisoned skies.
A poetic cycle
(Bee – Witch – Flower – Spirit)
With more to come
and nada Apr 16
Laying beneath the car changing bands
like myself.
Try to fix problems I don’t fully understand.
Stripping bolt holes, saving wealth;
I’m feeling real loose.
Progress aborted, but still need my caboose.

Jack stayed for a while, standing his ground,
as I contemplate ways to fix and rebound.
Pondering days; I was happy in the fall
my mind in the sink, Jack cracked:
911 call.

Paramedics came rushing,
lights bright, can’t blink.
Beginning to realize I can’t even think,
just images of life and flowers adrift
the car was too heavy for me to lift.
Maryann I Mar 12
The ice will melt, the seas will rise,
The fires will spread beneath the skies,
The ice will melt, the seas will rise,
And swallow what’s left of our goodbyes.

The bombs will fall, the war drums beat,
The hunger roams the crowded streets,
The bombs will fall, the war drums beat,
And scatter all we thought was sweet.

The air is thick, the forests burn,
The soil will crack and never turn,
The air is thick, the forests burn,
And no one’s left to mourn or learn.

The leaders fight, the nations break,
The lies they spread, the lives they take,
The leaders fight, the nations break,
And no one cares for freedom’s sake.

The waves will crash, the crops will die,
The children’s cries are lost in the sky,
The waves will crash, the crops will die,
And no one asks the reasons why.

The guns will roar, the blood will spill,
The streets will echo with the chill,
The guns will roar, the blood will spill,
And hope will vanish, stark and still.

The earth will crack, the heavens fall,
The cities crumble, one and all,
The earth will crack, the heavens fall,
And no one hears the final call.

The news will spin, the lies will spread,
The digital wars will fill with dread,
The news will spin, the lies will spread,
And truth is lost, our minds misled.

The voices scream, the tears will flow,
As we unravel, slow and low,
The voices scream, the tears will flow,
And the world ends with no one to know.

The missiles launch, the skies ablaze,
The tyrants rise, we fall to gaze,
The missiles launch, the skies ablaze,
As borders close and hope decays.

The blood will spill, the bodies burn,
The genocides, they never turn,
The blood will spill, the bodies burn,
As refugees with nowhere yearn.

The lies are loud, the truths erased,
The leaders’ words, a hollow face,
The lies are loud, the truths erased,
As corruption eats at every place.

The oceans choke, the skies turn black,
The polar ice will never track,
The oceans choke, the skies turn black,
And ecosystems fall off track.

The forests die, the insects fade,
The rivers dry, no hope is laid,
The forests die, the insects fade,
And nature’s toll is fully paid.

The banks collapse, the debts will rise,
The homeless roam with vacant eyes,
The banks collapse, the debts will rise,
As wealth divides beneath the lies.

The shelves are bare, the crops will fail,
The markets crash, the ships turn pale,
The shelves are bare, the crops will fail,
And hunger spreads beneath the wail.

The shots ring out, the streets are torn,
The bloodied cries, the youth are worn,
The shots ring out, the streets are torn,
And hatred thrives where love was sworn.

The children starve, the women weep,
The suffering’s vast, too deep to keep,
The children starve, the women weep,
As death is sold and souls to reap.

The screens will flash, the truth’s erased,
The mind’s enslaved, the soul misplaced,
The screens will flash, the truth’s erased,
And privacy’s a stolen grace.

The codes will break, the AI reigns,
The jobs are lost, the fear remains,
The codes will break, the AI reigns,
And human hands are bound in chains.

The idols rise, the people fall,
The souls are lost in empty thrall,
The idols rise, the people fall,
As substance dies and skins appall.

The hearts are numb, the minds are cold,
The stories fade, the truths are sold,
The hearts are numb, the minds are cold,
And vanity is bought, not gold.

The churches burn, the temples fall,
The faith is lost, no prayer to call,
The churches burn, the temples fall,
As lies are sold beneath the pall.

The cults arise, the masses sway,
And faith is twisted, led astray,
The cults arise, the masses sway,
As reason fades and faith decays.

The plagues will rise, the sickness spreads,
The bodies fall, the doctor dreads,
The plagues will rise, the sickness spreads,
And medicine’s a ghost instead.

The children’s cries, the wounds will fester,
The cures are gone, the doctors’ muster,
The children’s cries, the wounds will fester,
As life is snatched by every bluster.

The skies are dark, the hearts are still,
The hopelessness, an endless hill,
The skies are dark, the hearts are still,
And time slips past against our will.

The fear will grow, the shadows long,
The meaning lost, the world is wrong,
The fear will grow, the shadows long,
And we are left to weep our song.
This poem was created to express my worries for the world and the overwhelming challenges we face. From political unrest to environmental destruction, economic instability, and social decay, it reflects how everything seems to be falling apart. The repetition in the poem displays the weight of these crises, expressing the urgency and discomfort I feel as I watch the world change in unsettling ways. It’s a reminder of how deeply interconnected these issues are, and how they are leading us toward an uncertain, frightening future.
neth jones Mar 12
untitled   we'd be better served
like the bulk of resting nature appears
with no obvious contortional vouch
or *******  of a species legend
[ version 3 10/03/25
original21/01/25
untitled  we'd be better served
like resting nature appears
with no obvious self reference ]
Syafie R Mar 9
The core is cracked, the gauges red,
They swore it’s fine—now hope is dead.
Control rods jam, the heat runs wild,
No turning back, the fuel defiled.

Containment’s gone, the walls decay,
Fallout drifts in skies of gray.
A silent flash, a world undone,
The chain reaction has begun.
Your time is now over.
Your death will be slow,
and cruel.
A vulture picks
at the corpse of a fool.

When greed is worshipped,
all compassion fails.
Dogs eat dogs
and chase their own tails.

No one reads books.
No one understands law.
Might becomes right
and all succumb to their deepest flaw.

**** is entertainment,
and fantasy, addiction.
Degradation is beauty,
and cruelty, conviction.

The sun is now setting
on the city dying
Darkness begins
under a red moon rising
I'm glad to be old.
Everything’s under control.
Sure, the controls are a bit old —
nah, it’s not quite like a dice roll,
it’s all still working, kind of, all told.

Not to worry, everything’s fine,
all systems are still online
even if it looks like some redlines
are warning us of flaws in the design.

Sure, a failure happened before
that had lots of troubles in store,
hordes of red flags that could not be ignored
but were anyway. Led to one or two wars

but it’s OK, we fixed it back then
without needing to count down from ten.
Shut down your doubts, say yes and amen —
What, me worry? That’s our kind of Zen.
Inspired by this photo I took of a decrepit looking utility access point on a semi-abandoned 1970s concrete and aluminum building in Berlin: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lgyhhnr5vc23
dead poet Dec 2024
i was there when it happened:
when the clowns fell off the bandwagon -
when the curtains burned down,
and the farce ran out of fashion;
when the savages dispatched -
their army of assassins.

i was there, when the world stood still
in a void so deep no beauty could fill;
when the mountain of lies -
crumbled back to a molehill;
when the rubbles rained like hellfire,
and truth had lost its will.

i was there, when the wrath of the masses -
echoed the streets, and shattered the glasses;
i later reflected, on the root of the violence -
there wasn't a good defense for the upper classes.

i close my eyes, and wait for dawn;
lay half-asleep, with the curtains drawn:
agamemnon's doom, forever lives on -
i'm still here -
and the show goes on...
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