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Robert Ronnow Jul 2017
In the singularity
perfectly good poems
are being written by laughing
and crying machines
washing machines and dryers
about their daily tasks
and ambivalences
which will be indistinguishable
from those of future
farmers and philosophers.

In the singularity
evolution can be said
to be the master sorter of data
as in the factories
of the suns
where protons are smashed together
and unusual weather patterns
make consciousness a candidate
interesting for its complete dependence
on the substrate of the brain and body.

In the singularity
everything anyone once did
always remains current
as if invented yesterday
for an immediate purpose
such as curing cancer
although that may be unnecessary
to achieving immortality
i.e. the happiness one feels
the day before thanksgiving.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Jasmine Reid Jun 2017
I hate all these people around me,
they have plans for the future.
Knowing what they'll do, and what they'll be.
But how can you choose something like..that so quickly?
Mine is going down, I don't know exactly what I want,
nor what I want to be.
I'm not good at anything, where will I be able to go?
The slums, the street, outside a bar smoking ****!?

Yes everyone goes through something, and everyone has problems,
but some of them are so strong.
They get through it, and live their life.
I'm not one of them, I'm not a team player, and I'm not a problem slayer, and I'm not a prayer.

I'd rather change. Be something new, and needed for the world.
To have a purpose.
But I can't change, and I'm not a machine.
Even though I'd rather be.
Tyler Matthew Jun 2017
Beautiful machine,
chasing moths
in the mind.
Beautiful machine,
breaking doors and
building lines.
Beautiful machine,
operating carefully,
poetic design.
Beautiful machine.
David Cunha Jun 2017
Himself a machine,
Like a cool train
Like a moving rollercoaster
Like a ravaging mechanical animal

Iron oil and rust,
Pulsating boiling blood
Bursting brilliantly.
To my grandfather
Diána Bósa Jun 2017
It's happened on your last watch.
In a lonesome salvage yard,
she - who was raised by machines - like
an electric shadow on a hopeless, desolate street in Berlin,
was risen by
the taste of your swallowed tears as bitter as gall,
the music of your careless heartbeats singing
its own song of rust,
exhaling radiowaves for picture and thus
bring you into life again
by reshaping the man - from the sounds of wind chimes
and piano accords - who you were
more than half a life ago.
Spectre Apr 2017
Same words
to all
each made
to win
the hearts
of all
each friend
to collect
their lives
with all
their lies
fake faces
displayed
to all.
Justin Lai Apr 2017
They built me, standard-grade,
But with one crucial chip missing.
While other models are made
Programmed for social networking.

Laughter and jibes, except
This variant groping in the dark.
Much signs to intercept,
Machine simmers, overheats, sparks.

Every version upgrade,
Alas, still just one step behind.
Patience in every trade;
Stranger, if you could be so kind...
I've ran out of computer metaphors xD
Verdant Quo Apr 2017
Coca-cola has the taste you never get tired of, always refreshing, thats why things go better with coke after coke after joke
Is this a joke
Cola-Coke
I musta mispoke
Coke.
Blow your smoke
and my heart evoke
Mr. Coke
Mr. Coke
Strong as an oak
I swear, you tryna provoke

I’m being short-changed
Changed by the pain
of empty wallets and weight gain
Is this the dope or just coke in my
Brain veins
Cause I swear e’re time it rains

I get a little bit stickier
with that sugar sweet
fresh, ahhhhh
taste you just can’t beat
Without a drink
my meal ain’t complete

I trick or treat
for that bittersweet
flavor that makes my heart wanna beat
Say bye, wave hi to e’re passerby that I meet
I’m incomplete
Is what they want me to think

And so i drink
I drink and I'm
filled
I drink and I’m
thrilled

Just to be a little part in their bigger party
Seein only things that they want me to see
I nod to agree
I read the marquee
Lock down and guarantee
But I’m still nobody

Nobody to you
and nobody to me
and now I see
they WANT me to spend money

But I’ll spell it out for you

M-O-N-E-(WHY)
do I buy things
I feel a certain way
Why do I buy things
I had a bad day

I think I buy cause I’m worthess
gotta validate and purchase my purpose
And coke’s throwin me inna circus
of life, liberty and the pursuit of happy times
But it's hard to pay your way with nickels and dimes

but I can refund this bottle for 5 cents
or break it, and it be my defense
How does that make sense
Now I’m on the fence
Do I buy another bottle
or a six-pack for the road
I don’t really know
when it comes to cola-coke

coca-cola
sugar sweet
can’t be beat
Will that be debit or credit
Our chip reader doesn’t work
See you tomorrow
Mr. Coke
Josiah Israel Jan 2017
What you see is a machine, skin and bone and blood,
Made by the infinite being, constructed out of mud.

Limbs clothed in skin, Actuated from within.

Electrically controlled, Slowly getting old.

Healthy strong and tall, Broken by a fall.

Flesh together sown, Mended on its own.

Your eyes will only ever see, as far as light will let,
But soul resides in this machine, alive and free from debt!

So look ye now with spirit eyes upon this mortal man,
And see ye now the hidden truth, that flesh eyes never can.
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