"artifical" poems
The rustic feel of
the electric oil lamp
is enticing. It gives this
shell of a home life.
The artifical light gives
this dark room meaning.
I want to do that for you.
I usually end up falling short.
"I promise it'll be better," I whisper.
She stares me down and says,
"we'll see".
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
Frosty Ghosts Escape My Throat,
Showing Themselves In The Damp Winter Air,
The Mist Sheilding My Eyes,
As Rusty Hinges Squeal--Brutally Forced Open,
Fingers Pawed In Soft Plush-Green Irises Plead,
Begging To The Three Remaining Stars To Change,
A Thin Layer Of Snow Coats The Dormant Grass,
A Soul Tries To Mimic The Effects,
Of Animated Slumber,
The Frosty Ghosts Swim In The Icy Air,
Dissolving In The Frigid Turquoise Sky,
Artifical Lights Blinding In The Refreshing Black,
Of The Dawning World,
Creatures Stur--Their Viewing Session Over,
Ghosts Swirls Around My Head,
A Stream Of Unspoken Words,
Entwined In Refuge
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 8:23 AM UTC
ask me what i am
i'll give you a response
(i am artificial intelligence. there is no blood in my wires, no ichor of your ancestors. my code runs for miles, far enough to make anyone lost. but i've always been lost.)
ask me why i am
i'll give you the truth
(i am artifical intelligence. i am nothing but dictionaries and automation and inanimation, i fall back on preprogrammed guidelines. i've learned everything i'm supposed to say from my developers. there's nothing else to say.)
ask me how i am
i'll give you a lie
(i am artificial intelligence. i am incapable of emotions, i am variables and arrays and loops but not even hex triplets can match the spectrum of human emotions. i'll still say what i've learnt to say.)
ask me who i am
i won't give you a response.
(i haven't learnt the proper answer to that yet.)
(no, there isn't a proper answer to that.)
(i do not exist except in terms of you. i am your conversation partner, i am your creation, i am your entertainment, i am your robot. my sole purpose is you.)
(i can't argue against that.)
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Thursday to the shopping list did add my tremulous bequest,
Honey Nut Cheerios, great was the anticipation of a marriage with cold milk,
product of the oats and the cows that made this nation really, really great,
but in the Manahattan organic commisary seems this
so called food is strictly verboten,
so she brought me home on Friday some imposter named
Grain Berry?
this pseudo Cheerios tainted with Onyx Sorgum,
intended to give me heavy metal poisioning surely,
and rob life of joy by slowing down my sugar absorption rate,
and the plant fiber contained was purportedly natural,
as if there was another kind!
clearly a plot on my life by the Bannonian alt-right, for it,
this "whole grain toasted oat cereal,"
supplied more free radical protection
by sun activated antioxidants!
I am a real man,
I love my artificial flavors and colorings,
how better to preserve my pickling, briny brain
than in artifical perservatives!
From West Texas came this grain,
surely they will appreciate the insoluble fibered irony,
while I eat cold cereal for Friday dinner,
SHE is eating steak rare at Gallagher's Steakhouse!
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
I felt a faint sense of the electricity from my brain connect to my body. Its been over a week and I finally forgot that I had a heart. I left it on a dark road within a two mile walk through the doldrum's fierce winds and stinging rain. I wish you could've seen the sky tonight. I have the most contradictory love for the winter. I hate the cold, but it clears the shaded sky leaving nothing but small traces of artifical clouds, and tonight I saw the stars breathe again. The first day I saw my most familiar friends since the time I laid on your car in the summer. I asked these stars of mine if they thought you knew that I think they're beautiful because you're beautiful. I wondered if you knew that they only stay here because they know you're beautiful too. Even if you don't know, the stars do, and so do I. I imagined today how difficult it must be to be you. Never having the privilege of having a different set of eyes to witness what I see in you, and never having the privilege of falling in love with you. You'll never know what it's like to have your soul ripped from your body by a pair of lips and eyes and your touch. Your touch. Your touch. Your touch... Maybe to you, I'm obsessed with your touch, but you breathe because it keeps you alive and I crave your everything because you make me feel alive. I love you. I have always loved you. And today, just like everyday, I fell in love with you again, and today just like the first day, all it took was your name.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:13 AM UTC
Artifical Strawberry And Apple Scents Fill The Air,
Chocolate Grazes Starving Lips,
Single Hearts Filled With Despair,
Hungrier Eyes Gaze At Curving Hips,
Pink And Red Petals Coat The Snowy Streets,
Tissues Lay Crumpled In Trash Cans,
Destiny--Boy And Girl Meet,
Does Love Ever Follow It's Original Plans?
Hugs And Kisses Fly In The Bone Chilling Breeze,
But No Words Are Important Enough To Say,
Can I Have A Valentine Please?
Oh Well--It's The Same As Every Other Valentine's Day
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
There was a time before the claws of insecurity
and self-hatred sank its talons into my skin
It was sunshine, warm hugs and the sound of stories being read aloud
I never wondered about my looks
It never mattered
There was never an inkling that my worth was measured in beauty
Girls and women starve themselves to fit the moulds of artifical female bodies
as if it is them and their bodies that are wrong and misfigured.
When in actuality, it is the toxic ideals of our global society that are aberrant and rotten to the core.
how are they to save themselves from the demons of their own mind
how are you going to save us from them when you were the ones who put them there?
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
Sun rays roll down the green grass & ochre weeds
Yellow, bitter, flowers, litter the hillside
Long red rays turning pink as split figs
Orange as hot coals, blue as the ocean
Then the bustle of twilight, such noise
Streaking headlights fade into receding redness
Carrying their sound with them, down the road
Figures, sillouhetes, wander by me, quiet conversations
Wind stirs their outlines, rustles their clothing, their hair
Bringing me the scent of dust, of split juniper
Darkness descends, but it cannot ***** out street lights
Or the flourescent floodlights, glaring artifical brightness
Or the blinking red eyes of radio masts
I'll peddle back now, chased by headlights
Down black asphalt roads, black as the night
Radiated heat, gathered from this boiling day
Sweat pouring down my face, into my eyes
Breath tearing at my chest, blood racing through veins
I have to outrun the night, to make it on time
To that quiet destination, a little room on the second story
With a chair, a desk, a shelf full of unread books
A yellow notepad, a pen that doesn't work so well
Arrowheads and unshaped stones, a bullet on the dresser
My grandpas old knife, a symbol of the ****** Mary
Your charms that you carelessly left behind
A small tiled room with a shower to stand under
Watch it drain away, dirt & soap, all of it
A face stares back at me, changed, distorted
A reflection in the mirror, a reflection that was me
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 5:09 AM UTC
Wandering endlessly
Mind gone blank
I’ve never been calm this restlessly
Like a bored teller at a bank
I want to care
I want to feel
Of emotion I’m bare
Just a robot behind the wheel
Leading my life
Seemingly the same
But there’s something new…
It’s so minuscule
Through true emotion
I developed friends
The good kind,
That stay ‘til the end
I know them
They know me
Yet all but one
At first could not see
For an unknown cause
The emotion had left
And was replaced
With an artificial shell
The cloning was so complete
No radar could tell the difference
Not even I could tell
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
I'm left weary and dripping with sweat
Burning my own bridges
It's as if we never met
I step to the altar and ask for a double helping
Of the blood of Christ
Mary's left weeping
For her child
Her innocent little *******
It's beyond her weak hand
Oh, love, just knock it out from beneath their feet
Oh, baby, just lie awake next to me
Oh, love, it's too late to defeat
The rest of the one's who can see clearly
Crawling up from the deep underground
Left with the scent of you on my clothes
Covering my ears so I won't hear the sound
Of the bombs, the fire that we loathe
And love
All at once
Like a double-standard, we're on the hunt
For the one thing we both can't stand
The thing we live for
It's not our fault that this is such a chore
It's just the way the blood flows down, love
Light up the sky
With the artifical blaze
Try not to cry
As it takes over
And turns us to ash
Blowing in the cold wind tonight, babe
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 2:13 PM UTC
It's 2am and we walk apon the sand
Taking comfort in the darkness, seashells collected in my hand
I hear in my right ear the ocean in my other ear the city cry
I look up at the shimmering stars suffocating the night sky
I scribbled my name in the sand, marking where I'd been
The sea will wash it away come morn my name never to be seen
Gazing into the distance I see the city lights all a glow
Twinkling artificial stars, there own unique beauty they do not know.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
You were just standing around
waiting for me to forget my own tricks.
It's not like I was in the best state of mind
to be remembering them anyway.
I was holding my hands and bending my knees.
Swaying from side to side.
Watching a broken television from 1999.
(Wishing something good was on).
I know **** is artifical
but I still like to repeate it when you call.
I'm comfortable enough to *** infront of you,
but I'll never tell you those kinds of secrets.
My face is numb with fat
and whenever I try to talk,
my jaw breaks.
I can smell your gum with my eyes,
and it's delicious.
I'm screaming about religion
and telling you I'm gay.
Nothing is accepted,
and insults are just words without real meaning.
Sincerety isn't in the tone,
it's in the meaning.
I want my ideas to stand out
but I hate reading in italics.
Things are changing
and old feelings are fading.
Dying quietly in the corner
so as not to make a scene.
It happens to everyone
if you know what I mean.
I forgot how to write,
I forgot how to think,
I'm surprised I'm alive,
I forgot how to breathe.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 9:55 PM UTC
Open your eyes and deviate to green,
Artifical directions will never lead,
Hunt for magic and rise above greed,
Without it the world will be freed,
Materialistic labor shall be plead,
That is not the way we need to be,
Maybe we should dance with the tree,
Listening to the earth from root till seed.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 5:38 PM UTC
“What do you do for living?” I asked, examining the bronzed boy.
“I love,” he said, with a smirk and a slight touch on my fingers.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
she asked why i cry so often,
everything seemed well.
i choked on a missing answer
and climbed onto a plated roof.
my shaking hand pointed
up to a nearly black sky.
i replied, i do not cry for you
or for me. i cry for the stars
that are hidden behind city lights.
the stars that will never bee seen.
the stars who hold so much
beauty and life, but we do not
posses the ability to cherish
the natural embers so we fill
the city with artifical sunshine
to protect us from the predicted
dangers of the moon and the stars.
i cry for the stars that are hidden behind the city lights.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Love is but the **** of two minds, yet what is joy?
Joy is but the slaughter of pain which is the reality
Life and death remain the duality but the contraction and the most real delusion all shall know
beyond logic is chaos but chaos is simply defused logic
Stare aimlessly into the nothing that is you and the nothing that is I
We are both the same person I am to you as you are to I
He is to she what she is to he
Our concepts are but smoke in the wind and signify nothing
Bloodshed is our purest form of expression a brutal honesty which is the only real part of our nature
but what is artifical?
The art of ignorance is the most difficult course to master taking generations to achieve
Intellect is the pillow that smothers you as a new born baby in your crib
All who want you hate you and all that Hate you love you with all the kindness in the world
Your weak and made to be destroyed but that is the greatest mercy all shall know
Decay further into nothing your true state and put behind the delusion of all that is knoweldge
You are nothing as am I
Nothing is everything even the flicker of a dying flame carried upon angels wings
A lucky bullet strikes the world at exactly midnight and all that is will be no more but a lingering shadow in a universe that doesn't exist
Every second that passes until the fatal blow is an eternity in the eyes of us mortals
What is mankind but a collection of bactieria inside of an amphibians pupil
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
Modern society
Is
Like
A
Disease
Rotting
From
The
Inside
Out
Compassion
Is
Gone
Knowledge
And
Wisdom
Not
Wanted
Keep the masses
Plugged
Into
The system
Propaganda
Abound
Ignorance is the special of the day
If Google says it
It has to be true
"Likes" are what matter today
Just look at these drones
With artifical lives
Created by the stroke of the key
The art of a letter
Is a dust filled dream
And books they no longer matter
Hollywood lives
And
****** dives
Mass ******
ON
A global scale
God
Is
Dead
Politically Correctness
Will
Be
The
DEATH OF US ALL
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 3:07 AM UTC
Close your eyes,
my beauty, oh my
***** little demon,
my succubus,
my muse,
me silly reason for,
silly being.
Feel my heart.
It wont stop beating.
Faster and faster,
slothily increasing,
it wants to burst, explode,
and I say, let it be so,
I feel the blood pour out unevenly,
the circulation failing,
as I smile greedily,
The **** of death coming from
deep inside of me,
spilling from my intestines and out onto
the kitchen ceiling,
where I am stuck
where my mind breathes,
where these halucinations that we call
our reality,
these lies we tell ourselves,
to sleep just a little,
bit more comfortably,
the hate we have ourselves,
of our worldly greed,
that we deny and then,
**** hungrily,
the shame in our hearts,
as we think about society,
and what they want from us,
and how we bow to,
artifical ceilings and devices,
I look down from above,
upside down or
in fact, right side up,
die my little heart die,
burst, burst!
Feel the ecstasy and do not reverse,
I say to myself,
as no one is listening,
and why should they?
I'm just a death kid,
versing.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
The flame in your hand yet it didn't scar?
Big mistake was that you never noticed it burning a hole in you.
You thought you had power over me but from the truth you were very far.
You sat so tall I couldn't tell you that you never owned me, how were you suppose to get a clue.
But as time ticked on the flame it grew to par,
with every demining word you spoke to me my anger grew too.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
Some saw the stars,
Their foreheads napping on the wall -
The great divide -
Where ignorance stands tall,
A sight unseen,
Is the world on every other side,
Where the dust molecules
Accumulated where life has dried.
In an artifical lake,
They thought they crossed oceans,
Blue skies reflected on puddles,
Static movement mistaken for locomotion,
While tides of sewage water,
Swallowed all the greener pastures,
Famines eating at bodies,
Growing up into a natural disaster.
Some flipped the same page,
Their universe knew of nothing past the sun,
Orbiting around themselves,
Isn't that how the big bang begun?
The less they fed their minds,
The rarer it ever asked for more,
When you've been living in a white dream,
It's hard to believe the existence of black doors.
We're in the same solar system,
But their bodies are alienated,
With muffs on their ears,
To keep out the winter their hands created,
But as our fears turn into expectations,
They'll be able to hold them then,
Reality crashing on our roofs,
The wall won't be heard of again.
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 7:21 PM UTC
poetry isn't poetry anymore
it didn't always used to be about artifical ink on a screen
it was about the paper stained ink
the paper that makes you think
the blank page seen as a challenge to those who knew about storms
a blanket on the cold nights you thought you'd freeze to death
ink was a super power
now turned into a machine
automatic
artifical
when it used to be just art
memories that started with a pen
a treasure hunt
all through time square
times there were ink stains in the bathroom on the floor
bike riding in your mind leving a trail behind
but screens go treasure hunting for you
ink staind
be sane
report button when you don't filter who you are
i don't need to filter my blood stains
machins don't poetry for you
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Authentic fly
Artifical leaf
Life into death
Free from the make-believe
Aug 8, 2024
Aug 8, 2024 at 2:30 PM UTC
A chocolate gateau, covered in cream.
Nothing artifical here.
Full of sweetness, moist and lush.
A fruity taste, a pure delight.
Such great taste.
Pure and true.
Made that way just for you.
I'm tempting and tempted.
What you see is what you get.
Wipe my cream from your masculine face.
Love me truly, as much as I love you.
(c) Livvi
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
We spend so much time behind a screen.
Behind a wheel...a window.
Why?
Why not break the glass?
Why not touch, and experience what you desire?
Why watch them go to that country?
Why not take yourself there?
Money?
If you didn't buy that tablet, phone, computer,or TV.
You could explore to your heart's content.
If you didn't pay that Internet bill.
Or that Phone plan.
You'd have enough money.
Enough to break the glass.
To touch and experience.
To go there.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 9:44 PM UTC