Kind spirit

Your letter has saved me

Stuffed under
These barbed fences

Built by those devils

And you are my angel

My link from the nether

Herded like sheep
We trudged through the 9th circle
Fewer than first started

Those souls we left on our way
Those souls will become letters
Stained with tears and wine

But all is grey here

My family
Where are they?

Oh,  Mama and Papa

Where are you now?

Each shephard sat around his feet
And as he pause they wonder
What secret would he say
But his solemn mouth speaks only
Of a sage of the holy way
High atop an ice breezed peak
The sage can be found to speak
To sing songs of the great Jomski

Who did command ten thousand men
On frigid Icelandic sea
Soaring 'neath open sky
In longships landed these men ashore
To plunder and pillage all in sight
And settle and rest did each man then
And drunk on their worship soon begin
To sing songs of the great Jomski

And when one day the great Jomski lieth
On damp soil wounded by the fateful spear
A solemn dove could be seen flying
Towards those mourning friends of home
With dreaded message of his dying
And as such crowds flood his sombre wake
All who cometh doth partake
To sing songs of the great Jomski

The Kraken

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumber'd and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

I fought against the beauty of the automaton's playing
Seeing it's calculated metal digits scanning keys
The languid symphony as a set of logical steps

And you'd think it would sound robotic
Remember those old movies: evil robot, red light
A computer voice lecturing feeble-minded people

Something missing from the synthetic noise
Something human.  But each note is met perfectly
The sound so beautiful I try not to hear it

Because if this machine has succeeded
In the only thing left to make us different
What am I exactly?
  
What is life?
And what is lust?
What is love?

When the only thing to make us human
Is our stubborn belief in being special
Floating in this endless unforgiving Universe

Where are we going?