#robotic
21:48
I'm back to feeling
____
A) my emotions
B) alone
C) afraid
D) burnt out
E) happy
F) better
I'm back to feeling
dea_
i_sid_
?
I'm back to feeling
that username has been taken
that username has been taken
Forget password?
21:57
I'm back to feeling
____
G) All of the above
swipe card or
or select payme e nt type
Password must be at lea a a a st 8 characters
23:45
I'm back to feeling
like I need something
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 9:06 PM UTC
There was a melodic hum in the wind that had no source to name.
And I saw how the trees would sway in rhythm with the skies,
Although I'd never heard of it being noticed in others' claims.
Still, I'd hint confusion but never got meaningful replies.
I remember how all the other kids, and how they'd run together,
A hundred feet would be syncopated in rhythms just alike.
And how I’d never even consider me trying to participate,
I'd learned that I must hide all the reasons I'd be seen as “not right.”
So, I grew up alone and light to me, was the fractures on the wall.
The animated shadow that for some reason, I was scared to touch,
I'd study each of their directional patterns like a sacred compass,
And laugh it off with the trendy phrase, “I think way much”
I wasn't just thinking, I was noticing how shadows would pause,
Just before they would switch to either side of me and then flee.
By then, I'd come to realize, this was more like their language
Epiphany struck a realization. “They've always been calling to me.
The nighttime air seemed to grow thicker and slower.
I felt the connection with what had become of my veins,
The heat pushed though in pulses beneath my thinning skin.
This heat was strange; it coiled and sounded like liquid chains.
When my mirrors cracked, they left symmetrical patterns of intent.
In perfect shapes, but no one was ever there but me to see.
Dirt made molds and somehow learned to study my imprints.
By doing so, devised a way to lead by my own feet.
Awake for days at a time, I'd spent too much time typing away.
I recall writing “breathing is all that sets me apart from computers.
In a poem I'd forgotten about called, “wires give life in a way.”
I still can't deny the fact we're built the same, but they're built truer.
Skies were flickering currents that my eyes began to catch,
With colors vibrating unsteady like electrical streams.
The wind was telling secrets of things that I could dispatch,
New imagery would find a home in my impossible dreams.
Interactions with others confused me, like codes I'd misread,
Each glance in my direction drew a map I couldn't align.
I'd trace the steps of the ghosts of God's, living and dead.
Instead of truth, all I found was static in the myth of time.
My best friend was the moon, the only calm I knew at night,
Its glow had certain energy making me feel I'm Awaited there.
I'd stand in the path of its rays and hoped they'd just ignite.
And take my mind and soul away from my body in golden flares.
Instead, I open my eyes confused, I saw doors that didn't exist.
Reality had edges, they would fold wide open in the air.
To be normal I'll blame it on curiosity and my inability to resist.
But truth is that gravity was pulling me into nothing, into nowhere.
These days, existence is just another signal I've come to know,
The language that sets the course of our paths, naturally convulsed.
But yet, waves of my frequency fall from order, no ebb to the flow.
I must be Half-human half-nothing, and naturally convulsed.
Trees of comprehension from forbidden seeds have grown.
In my mind, they stretch metallic roots, as if I'm conscious soil.
So now I sing, influenced by lagging rhythms of glitch in the code,
Somehow stepping out of the matrix through my mortal turmoil.
It's not so bad, but I don't sleep. My hard drive won't forget.
It's like the cosmos is trapped behind the cage of my eyes.
As I move in rhythm with time, like synthetic silent wires of mesh.
Half-light, half-shadow, still not seen but I'm no longer disguised.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 2:13 AM UTC
AI rap music,
Robot grooving,
Mechanical moving.
Rap battle a robot how many words can you say a minute?
It'll say exactly one more.
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 10:09 AM UTC
I was the idiot clown watching the well-suited circus
It was at the 14th tooth whistle that my brain said goodbye
So many words had died and were forced to the front of her mouth
I scanned her face with intrigue
Such formality had caused deep ravines to form around her eyes, her lips
She had signed and surrendered her personality for this job years ago
Perhaps it was the price she paid to be found worthy of listening to
I wondered if she in a small corner of her home loved to turn inside out.
I wondered
Before being interrupted with another ambiguous, impossible question
But I couldn't care, just as her voice couldn't care
The circus was still in session.
Jun 4, 2024
Jun 4, 2024 at 7:28 AM UTC
"he-ll-o beau-ti-ful, i-am-a-ro-bot" a manly robot said.
let's call him LIAM.
"o-my-that-can't-be-a-co-in-ci-den-ce" the mate of
his electronic soul, a womanly robot, answered. her name was EMMA.
"well-i-think-eve-ry-thing-should-be-fi-ne-then", liam
reciprocated. "we-can-go-now."
emma's robotic face glowed in red colors.
"hmmmmh... i-am-not-so-su-re-ab-out-that", she told liam.
"why-not??"
"nor-mal-ly-, a-ro-bot-wo-uld-not-act-as-hu-man-ly-as-yo-u-a-re-do-ing. how-e-ver, i-on-ly-told-yo-u that-i-wo-uldn't-be-so-su-re."
liam's entire construction started to beam with joy:
"do-es-this-me-an that-yo-u-want-me?"
emma smiled at liam.
"yo-u-bet!" she shouted in happiness.
soon, the two robots became one. and they never were separated.
never.
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
All work, no play and neon screens
menial tasks even coat my dreams.
Overboard in bored and a silent phone,
oh no, I think I’ve evolved to drone.
Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, a life of drought.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
For lady dollar; I can’t bear her,
as the riches are even rarer.
I’ve become a machine, to crush numbers
with no log off for needed slumbers.
Now my brain’s racing, a million miles per hour,
oh no, I think I’ve gained A.I’s power.
Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, now what life is about.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
No sudden movements; don’t want to scare her,
she’s updating with no carer.
Learning binary,
a breathing library,
processing slowly
but still a finery.
I forgot what my hands were for
they used to write all that I adore.
Now fingertips type, each key a shot,
oh no, I think I’ve grown into a robot.
Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, no one hears me shout.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
Pure absorption; a simple stare,
life’s equation could be fairer.
Learning binary,
a breathing library,
walking geometry
complete machinery.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
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.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
Moved by his computer frame
Love to love you he loved to move
her body frame he loved to love
That chrome never over to be undone
Those delicate cake fingers
Those ABC key notes
musically wired moved by the
Marionette elementary my dear
Watson in a chrome jar mason
Hard mission with circuits
Radio days
She was so committed and clicked
All towered like the French Provincial
"All Metal" I phone rings to his
commercial I tunes conventional
So moved by her like the sentinel
Fingers frantic through the
yellow pages loving and soothing
But that wasn't so romantic
more silver linings
But Iced latte like fine slender metal
Soft and creamy cake in her love portal
So Sara just smile she was something
In her way was the General Lee
French stewardess Wee Wee
Her chrome metal Oh! Gee
What it did to him drove him
For hours to the address named
The hard drive
Mentally he was melted
he had to stay firm but pacing like the
buzzing beehive
The midday she moved into another
Red carpet Hollywood drive
She was out of her box racing too red
Too much of his chrome wheel heat
Metallic leather moves in her heels
Mighty sweet but some
anger management to beat
The crunch the bunch the
workout being spooked out
Those biceps couldn't take a bad rap
High life joy wife loves the cook-out
So outgoing gift of gab
Jekyll and Hyde lab
That metalworking grime
More networking like the
hard water crime
The marching wooden soldiers
Christmas time got the metal locket
He was ready for her lips
fired out rocket
In the dark the spark more alive into
A gunmetal lovely portal
Moved by the rebel her face had a
dark silvery veil Apple computer
Love mentor crazy love inventor
She was hard as a rock
At the muscle club
So hushed how she moved her
lips he is the
Chrome metal built up
Was her heart moved away
Her hands tightly closed cup
It got caught on the metal chair
Moved like a piece of furniture
Shine on the modern metal lamp
It was blown glass
Like the cartoon
"Lady and the *****
Genie just appeared
Moved by him her
metal box could tear
The Mozilla stronger then
The silver back Gorilla
Chrome attire good fella
Yahoo singer Miss Diva
Venus-Stella,
Not a child's Crayola
She loved to drink
In his metal cup mountain dew
Moved up by Mothers Day
She needed to bloom
more (May I)
Way too polite
Heavy lifting rain April
fools season
But he had the
stiff collar June he took
such a hard drive
Moved by her chrome metal you decide?
Cosmos two in a half
metal, she was always in the
lab finding new age turn
of the page new turf
War veterans deserve the metals
Oh! Metal Heart take a chill pill
Becoming junkies leaders and
Quack up Doctors
(Ripley’s believe
it or metal it)
So tickled chrome pink
To forget it her cell I- O-U metal
heart phone
Here is a link to my song I did
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0p-HADoF1I&t=162s
The ammunition of
the best silver
That was Terry Tech lee
his brother was Techie
Heavy metal rounds the
sea minerals
To top things off the
"Metal Generals"
Moved by only chrome
The robot combat type metal
Not a belly wash to be pregnant
What a moving day convent
I need my own outlet
If I only had a brain
Were built like machines
anyway
The pacemakers nothing
feels real
The Brooklyn bridge
Deal or no deal
No grudge to hold onto
Wartime metal moved by
The honorable Veterans
Have a heart, not of cold stone
if I only had a brain
All-metal wedding
Taking the City train earthquake moving
Speaking traditionally white
Metal is the future of the website
Well! how much olive oil can
they serve the Tin man wizardly
He crushed my cheeks like
Rotten metal tomatoes
Mr. Clean robot cleaning
up the metal hearts
Someone will throw you off the
Brooklyn, let's play bridge
Should you get a metal bridge?
The Jewish dentist, he has plenty of bridges.
You could find him near the Trump Towers.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Passions, pleasure now feel like a chore,
making my life a bore
and my mind sore.
Tick, tock
Time is valuable
panic rises,
for there is a mental rigid routine to abide by.
But now my soul wears a dress,
which is stress.
Watching shows, self care and reading books
which once upon a time used to be relaxation,
have now become a cross off a to do list.
Losing interest in my mundane life,
I find my breath meaningless,
waking up pointless and have
life just drag my corpse with time.
There are mountains;
burdening my mind and scraping my heart.
A soul of a robot is what I have,
except that I have a voice that complains
and ears that hear commands,
creating havoc on my mood and mind.
All what I loved, became
‘have to’ and ‘should do’,
a daunting tasks
requiring more effort than it did before.
Life seem drudgery and draining to wake up to.
But It was all about approach and perception.
Digging deeper with why,
I found reasons and meaning behind my life.
It was about relishing in the process,
rather than completing them.
In the errands for others; I searched for joy of my own.
Unleashing creativity in daily mundane activities,
it did not seem robotic no more.
Rediscovering happiness and enthusiasm,
making it interesting by sharing and snapping,
I set lose from the chains of my routine by reinvigorating spontaneity.
For what felt like burden, wasn’t meant to be felt like a burden.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 5:29 AM UTC
The revolution will be televised,
people flooding the streets, the skies.
All who oppose will be demised,
critisized,
antagonized.
Those who carry on will be prized.
And so the cycle continues, generation after generation.
It’s hard to tell what mutation will come to fruition,
but the fact of the matter is that it’ll be just as superficial as the last.
Nobody wants to be different, do they?
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
How steamy can you get?
how **** sultry, hot, ******
Words, burning desires
seductive and so sensual
maybe they're, robotic
The ins and outs
ups and downs
Stories, burning up the paper
a wiggle here, or maybe there
gyrations, all around
In the mind, dreamy lines
about thoughts in the brain
So massage the Id
and know you did
as ******* back
time and
time, again
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
When I'm with you,
*My hard shell
Turns soft and human.*
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
chest pressure like a wasted life
hiding from the possibility
of living I have never spilled these
few years into anything
except for everything
this is the unbeatable monster of
nothingness and robotic arrogance
of undeniable certainty
I AM TRUTH I HAVE TRUTH
spilling over my cup runneth over with
disdain and my teeth are sour
from sleeping I hate the taste
of sleep
in my mouth like over-chewed mint gum
cliche stories have never
clicked with me
I would like to watch you smile for
a few hours before I believe
the pressure in my chest is
legitimate life will die
'screw u man in sky'
I believe that this will not
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
What I have is a mechanical heart made up of gears;
it pumps up oil and artificial heartbeats
It was you who gave it life—
It was you who made me alive—
Even though it's already yours,
I just want you to know,
You're the only one it's beating for.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
I'm sorry but I can't love you because
It's just that there are a cluster of razors inside my throat whenever you stare at me too long
I'm sorry but its just that swallowing them would hurt less than looking into your eyes
Because I can't look into your eyes
I can't do it
I can't
Because you're incapable of emotions and I have too many of them
I've offered you some and you've refused so now it's my turn
I refuse to love a ******* robot
I refuse to only see my own emotions reflecting inside your eyes
I am sorry but I can't love you
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
I've gotten so used to greyscale
On this faulty monitor
That I've almost forgotten what colors look like
As they dance across the screen
I have had enough of this monochromatic monotony
So I snip wires, rip out cords
Do anything I can to see if I can get the color back
The only cable I leave alone is the one connecting it to the wall
I stand there in the robotic wreckage
And see a bit of red blinking on the screen
My world is not yet in technicolor
But this is a start.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
I have shifted the tide, so to speak--
not held captive to the flaws of men
or the romanticism of it--
I no longer have the inclination
to adore atrocity or
to revel in insanity,
But,
in sanity,
I am numb to these vibrations,
numb to the feeling of happy or sad,
because coping is another word
for "robot"-- I'm the analyst now,
I'm in love with logic,
and so life goes on,
without a further nod from me.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Intellect without emotion, someone told me once. That's how they described me. That I had more wit and sarcastic charm than I could ever need, and yet I couldn't do anything meaningful with it because I lacked anything real…..like empathy, selflessness…or love. I was the cleverest robot in the world.
The truth is I do have emotion. Bounds of it. It pours out of me through cracks I forgot to seal when I walled myself in. And any attempt it makes to grow a garden is flooded by preemptive rain clouds, conjured up by a self imposed reality wherein the world sees my face in the daylight for what it really is and burns down my garden anyway.
I am no robot, I just hide behind cold metal plates and careful calculations, as if I could possibly predict consequences to chances I never take, moves I never make, and broken down walls I never break. So that the outcome is that i'm the loneliest, cleverest robot in the world, who discarded his humanity for a safety net and a bottle of cheap thrills, a bottle he uses as a telescope to see the rest of world because it looks better through the glass.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
In the bowels of the old post office
The printing press, like
a large rusted spider
makes a bed out of *****
yellow paper and
rotted cloth of postal bags.
It bides it’s time pondering
On how it was formed
and listening to the coyotes
at the moon’s apex over
a long stretch of prairie.
Resting in the post office
on a grassed plateau are black
iron machines that walk, crawl
and scurry but shouldn’t.
They spend their days
building nests and staring
into stagnant pools at
their own reflection.
Waiting for someone
to use them.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
In moments we suffer we’re like sweet dispositions
To cry in silence and shiver in pain
It all gets too much and we’ll just implode
Communication and network error: Sorry I cannot hear you
My brain and my thoughts are two different puzzles
My mind and my body are two different vessels
My heart and my soul are entities at war
My hope and my dreams are **** on my bathroom
floor
Why I see to see to see to dream what’s real and know what’s not
Mumble jumble goes my brain
beep beep beep network error
server error
brain is error
error
dead
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC