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Jessica Oct 2020
The cipher knows what to say
He decodes us all of our days
Sitting in a dark room eating poisonous mushrooms
And remembering a virtue
that he lost
But he never misplaces the key
The one that opens all things
And in the place of empathy he has costs and pay outs
He smokes a pack a day of lies
And tears he never appears to cry
But in the blackness of his heart
He careens into the white walls of the populace
He sees a thousand patterns
In place of moral standards
And who needs common decency
When you leave your window open
DIPTI DHAKUL Sep 2019
Tomorrow's promises
reside in the heart of
stalked past and present
DATA

© Feelings Coated
Mr Siri revealing facts for better tomorrow
© Feelings Coated
pitch black god8 Apr 2018
this peculiar notion transmigrates into a startling potion,
one that creates, not slakes human thirst,
a consequential first position for those who are in possess
of a direct line to gods who hide in the pitch black,
perforce one must make discrete deferential inquiries
avec une politesse indirecte

just in case we are wrong

(honest aside:
as composition proceeds, ear buds fill me with
Music of Transmigration, notably Op. 11, of S. Barber making
contradicting souls passing through me tenable and malleable)

naturellment,
loud radio silence, was I naive to expect otherwise?

perhaps god is not the subject of this poem
but perhaps the author(!)  who's
just  keeping his "hand" in the poem game,
spoofing human memes,
with a spot of fun even in
New Z--l-and-other domiciles

after all who has more
nominalistic titles,
is cursed and blessed,
by almost everyone
at least once a day, and in
a thousand different names
with an impishly
cruel sense of what this human gig
it created.
is about

tonight
I am a composer,
tomorrow’s decomposer,
or just a funny named follower

ah,
the answer is in the
data
My very first poem; yay!
I don't stand on formality,
you can call me #8
Shiv Pratap Pal May 2019
O' my transparent magical sphere
I am aware of your capabilities

I always regard your truthfulness
I bow before you once again

I also bow before the angel
Who gave me, you as a gift

Again I am here with a question
Please let me know the answer

Don't feel any pressure or fear
You are always my near and dear

Don’t hesitate anymore
Just speak the truth, only truth

My question is plain and straight
But still it is not that simple

The question is mind boggling
The question is very troubling

"Which is the most valuable
Which is the most vulnerable

Which is the fastest growing
Which is the fastest moving

Which is the most popular
Which is the most wanted

And which is the most insecure thing
In this modern mundane world"

All of sudden the sphere turned opaque
Then changed its colour in red and blue

Later it was filled with ***** smoke
Quickly replaced by white-white clouds

And then I figured, A word inscribed
What I saw, was a single word – "DATA"

I thanked my transparent magical sphere
I thanked the angel who gave me this gift

I bowed down with respect and regard
Returned with that single word answer

I assessed, analysed and concluded
Once again the magical sphere was true
Some questions even have the same and single word answer.
we do not really know
what to expect of times to come

those who dare say they do
are more or less intelligently speculating
and their assumptions usually don‘t exceed
foggy predictions read from crystal *****

so what?
the problem is not really new
all our ancestors
     some more desperate than others
were longing for the certainty
they thought would go with knowledge
of all things as yet to come

     fact is we have survived without it
     for some million years

even if our digitized society
     obsessed with quantifying everything
     from time to work to *** to pleasure
seems mortally in fear of lack of data
     about the future

the one thing we can say for sure
is that life will be different
because the only constant in our world
is change

     know it
     and get on
The last two lines are borrowed from U.S. author and Nobel Prize winner Toni Morrison in her reply to a question of what to do about unpleasant news/experience.--
Isabel Aghahowa Feb 2019
i can’t hide from the monolithic machines
that try to take my face
they feed it to the invisible giants
whose words keep bending into nothingness
I can feel the silver limbs growing out of my veins
as they slowly take my place
for this new world order is biology
and is chemically engrained

the portraitures that float above me
live alone in silicone ethers
and have no home
or places for honest solitude
i can’t breathe without the satisfaction
of my voice being heard by figures
this new world order is biology
and is chemically engrained
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