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Cunning Linguist Aug 2015
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension

Regenerate, upgrade
my being to a higher state
I'm syncing all sentients

Build machines
Let's worship them as deities
These artificial beings'
technologic virus breeds
terminal disease
Merged with my brain
The wiring decides our fate
Conspiring to forsake flesh x2

Rise and synchronize god-like drones
We will act as one, claim our throne

Life digitized in the matrix
True perfection, forged genetics

Synapses burning out: disconnecting
Rewriting all of my algorithms
Porting the source code
to run new platforms
We're forever dying to be reborn

Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension

Regenerate, upgrade
my being to a higher state
I'm syncing all sentients

Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension

We'll levitate, escape
This ruthless ungodly space
An instance uploaded
'Deus ex machina' aside from the literary technique literally translates as god from the machine. Makes me think of artificial intelligence becoming godlike. Very heavily inspired by the movie Transcendence. These are lyrics from my band Subnuba.
Copyright Reid Donovan, Adrian Ocaña 2015
Ken Pepiton Jun 2021
Where I live, you see, is the future
which nobody saw coming but me,

and I guarantee, its truth,
I consider ants sentient, indeed.

I cringe for my imaginary Jain friends,
I just smashed another dozen scouting sugar ants,

and I sang to them as I did,
hoping their tiny antennae
knew the deal,
we throw ant-edibles in rodent safe containers,
out past the edge
of the motion sensors,
ants of all common sorts are welcome.

- because our fire ants have some how mellowed
- since arriving from Texas
on waves of dread… fire ants,
maybe that kind never got here. any way
- now, we live with them and all the others
- on the edge of the eastern pacific
- super colony that has no war
- on its inner or outer edges.

But one must consider ants
as sapient sentients,
senders of signals, wireless radio,
wee-tiny antennae vibes,
to sing a song ants can translate that says,
This human says: I shall **** all you send to my kitchen.
It is a thought song, you think it, as you ****.
You might try it if, you consider
ants are not just pests, but
interesting life tools, for living in dirt
with no screens, lack so obvious it is
noticed by any with attention to antennae
as intense as
that that of Everest Pax, who in April began his sixth year…
Now, who
can hold the ant mind
long enough to imagine the queen,
with Ender-vision?
Through the eyes that watched me **** the scouts,
and signal boundaries to the Queen.
Home alone with the next generation. Peace on earth is a location problem, we can fix if we send the right signals in time.
Michael W Noland Sep 2013
There I stood
In a long hallway
Stretching thinly
To a lit point

Lined with doors
Opening as they closed

Its prisms transposing
Euphoria as it shone

Lifting my chest
It dragged me breathless
Down its stretches

As I was reflected
In my own projections
Of sentients

Until innocence
Was all there is

And that is
Where thoughtless
Narrative lives

Where languidly it gives
Wordlessness meaning

And that is
Where fraughtless
Intentions can win

Acting replacing thinking

Incentive in Zen
Awaking and thinking again

Was is and gonna be
Everything I believe
Even while deceived
In sets of themes

Numeric categories
And the tragic stories
Of grander things

Things of grandeurous dreams
That I wring out in the sink
While winking
The well wishes away
In splashes
Of graying
Paint

My hate
Is displayed
In the mourning
Of Mondays

And with relatable monotony
And some mundane

Everything goes back to the same

Or at least
That's the philosophy
John Prophet Dec 2016
Some say we live in a computer simulation.
A simulation run by others further along.
Our sentients is just as real as theirs.
“I think therefore I am.”
If this is true, what do we do?
Some interesting possibilities could be true.
Could we live simulated lives ad infinitum?
If simulated here could we be simulated anywhere?
Could this be a game and we’re judged by results?
Could there be consequence for how we behave?
Could Heaven and Hell actually be real?
Might want to plan accordingly.
JWolfeB May 2017
Elephants
Herd animals
Having a deep resounding sense of family
These majestic sentients of earth are known to deeply display emotions
Often when losing a family member, although they may not understand death
Elephants will grieve, attempt to bury, and even cry over their loss

The oldest female in the herd is the matricial leader
When this leader dies
After a period of time the next oldest female assumes this position as a leader

It has been over four years and I am still here
Grieving
Digging
Broken
Must you tangle the Pentagram complex
When it's Design drawn so Fine and Simple?
Mystic Sentients confer by reflex
And peel away any sagging Dimple
If I choose the Fray - the Crowd rotten within
Verify my Assets thus turn my Goals foul
Yet no Signals phase for Directions therein
Save peppered tidbits make Worth for the Soul
Where's the Error then? Despite Morals bade
Reflect each other's Values by Variance
As your Self-Filled Generals lift and fade
Deny a Potent Treasure by Distance.
Yet still I Noticed: A Programme does Flow
One which your Reason placed Biddings enow.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Emm Feb 2018
I don't feel much
I don't remember much
I don't bask in sentiments
or think too much of sentients...

but certain objects do linger on...
some I keep boxed in preciously
bejewelled and polished

the smell of your skin
rubbing against mine
my scent on your shirt
carried by the cold night air
the touch of your hair
soft, comforting...
the warmth of your embrace

how many years ago was it now?...
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
The sheer beauty of you will
had made the Earth tremble
And managed to bring unity
to a divided race of
sentients

Behind you, the sheep would never stray
we would follow, conscious that we may
never return

The battles were long,
the battles were hard
And to you, a debt we can never to pay
back

For what you stood for was true unity
For every race that thrives in this world
and beyond

Within your sight, you would make it all right
You came, you strived, you conquered and you
died

Which I still can't believe...
Which I still can't accept...

Shepard

With everything that the perils dealt,
I never truly sat down and told you
how I felt

You brought me the light
You brought me the rain
You brought me the hummingbirds
And now you brought me pain as
a causality

But I know that your sacrifice will never
be in vain, as now we are strengthen by
that chain of unity, of the power in being
different and proud

We're equals who stand strong on the
same ground

Shepard

I can't tell you how much I miss you
How much I want to see your face,
and your heart and your smile
And I dream of us together
when we shared that last night
Even though I knew it was a final,
final goodbye

Shepard

Thinking of all the times we had, I didn't know
what to do, and then I realised how I was lost
without you

By your side, I could take on every world
and beyond. It's still so hard to accept that
you're truly gone
a light that we need
a beacon of hope

I know you want me to live,
and it's hard to cope

Shepard

I regret not saying this to you more
As I think of the times we had before
I will always remember you
I will always love you
No one can ever deny you your dues,
your service, your strength has made
you a monolith
I will carry on your legacy forthwith

...Goodbye...
Having a little nerd moment here lool.
Mass Effect is one of my favourite games - a true guilty pleasure.
One OST that stuck with me was the piano piece known as 'I Was Lost Without You.' It's so beautiful to listen too. So sweet yet haunting and intimate and tragic. A true masterpiece.
Have a listen here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9y5Ufej98vc
So here's my tribute poem to it, and this poem is a spoiler so warning to anyone who hasn't played the earlier Mass Effect games!
Please let me know what you think, it's a poem where I'm pouring my heart out to a lost love... Please let me know if it's cliche anywhere.
And let me know if I should do more tribute poems to games!
Love you guys so much!
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
Inked Papers Jun 2015
"This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story."

It all started with those little things,
with miniscule meanings,
exchanging trivial thoughts,
interests caught in hapless soughts.

It all started with those little things,
but now then heavier meanings,
exchanges became personal,
growing feelings like an irrational.

I didn't wish to end those little things,
but now then just past kindlings,
messages left unanswered,
with sentients left untold.

Like a bubble it was,
floating aimlessly,
carefree,
it can be pricked,
or just pop.

*It is not a love story.
500DaysOfSummer
This entry is inspired by the movie mentioned above, the story (not the story of the movie) goes like this or sort of: the two fell got to to know each other with their everyday activities - the guy aimlessly enjoy conversing with that ******* unaware of his feelings eating his heart out. It were just little things - eating twix's, doing assigned works, watering plants, laughing, teasing, stating the obvious and all those cliches you know about. What is interesting is that- the guy misses the girl when it was all over for their little things to  go on. He was haplessly seeking his bubble of happiness when it is long been pricked by someone else.
Oh that your Tasty Dough many Girls mix
Try out your Sanity much more to Please
Wherein what Sage could ever try to fix
Or heal your Fortitude ever increase?
Eager still, your Soldier's Recipe learn
Courteous Ingredients with soft Firmness knead
Still too large to swallow; So then they churn
And break each Piece mould to a Fitting Bead
That's Life, is it not? Or at least I thought
Long subscribed to that eminent Depress
Then - by Convex - as my Mirror had taught
Four Noble Maidens deflate my Eye less:
Spirit. Family. Sentients. Then me
Which his Last Bite I would give out for Free.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Angel Jun 2019
What’s to say you will know?


The fiery being you are detests to your celestial existence

Death
Sentients
  
Forever a delusion
What have I transpired?
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
Earth is entombed with body
and blood. All sentients are
indeed candles in God's eye.
No matter how far, no matter
how young, we become mere
vapours as life goes on.

                                                               ­         As uncharted the future is,
                                                             ­         as dark as the world can be,
                                                                ­       I want to be a speck of light
                                                                ­         here. One who lives well,
                                                           ­              one whose steps won't be
                                                              ­     forgotten in the sands of time


                                 As the river flows...
I need to step away from the computer for a bit.
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
Ken Pepiton May 2023
Fulfilled ideal of the Law,
Torah, Mishna, Prophets, et all.

Fulfilled, point per point
In the Beginning, that which was,
the logos,
self developing
ethos and pathos enclosed, within
the being bubble in which all things
have their particular peculiar beings,
beginnings
as mindsets useful or not
trying
the spirit and truth realm

wherein, ein wo, one where,
first where, wherein we make up stuff

and think of daring to offer it up,
to the unity with in and out and in and
out, we feel a kind of pistoning pressure

and, sigh, hisss, let loose, leave go,

passing wish to hold a hope, then that
confident substance, asks, automatic,

as when in the spirit and truth realm,
one knows when one knows, time
is fluid, it flows, faster in skinny places,
slower in wide life rich swampy places,

in the body, at scale, next phase,
announcing the Dewey Standard Model,
NEW and Improved Leadership Development

In the 2023 Commencement Oration, in
or out of the body, as that which we become
when we each agree to form a more perfect
union, base pair coupling cotter-key security

pact, we all pull one direction, correctal, core
rect. Per fect. Per se, per use, definitive agreed
agreeing minds, in fact come to pass, as active
in use
as spiritual true
any things, we agree is real, as
- that power was not taken away,
- it was hidden by the tyrant's mouthpiece.
The liar in us, cheeky rascal, Pan, Roadrunner,
Olde Delusive Bent - makem all think that.

Heroes are essential lies, guardian
depression prevention, ancient spells,
sealed in the spirit of the bayonet, once,
never unget that umph, you feel it,
clencher, seals the deal, you
get your **** together and
rethink the post win state.
Mirror neuron dream dopamine
real as many a child's exemplars
- suffer such to come to me,
- their connection never breaks.
- Trust - rest in truth, don't say
- I know, lightly and not be called
- upon in your patience, to prove it.

Guide me, guide, follow me, child,
we are off and on again in terms a child
can feel adult enough to use without ex-
cessive ewing and muttering at ph'art'saches

work done happily is a blessing indeed.
Ai, can't say when we met Barry Rudd,
he was just a kid's idea in the Univac era.

Tom Sawyer was in us all,
by the time we chose,
am I gonna work, or watch other people work,
or go all in Huck Finn, with Kesey on top,
and the Weavers great notion taken
while singing Good Night, Eirene, good night?
Last verse often is the first in reverse.
The way we sang it. Dang, did I ruin it?

Three rivers come
to be this one, there's Lethos,
and Meander, and the Hasayampa, make this
stretch
to the ocean
by and by, become. Becoming
the actual course of human events,
for you and me, as particles,
in the medial mindtimespace, reading
agreeing we all-in states of wedom,
no dominion declaring unbelievable, what
bet me we cain't negate some able mind, ops
super positioning mindful breathers, reading us- all symbolic as **** Tracy
thought bubbles in the quantum foam
belch
anti-causa sui inside out
gaseous we formation,
passing free
- take a whiff… lavender
- blue
Group Think Capable Tools, as handy as thumbs.
-snap anew anon developing
discomplexity along an ancient crease…

The modern uses are figurative and emerged
in English 18c. and after:
Transitive meaning
"unfold more fully, bring out the potential in"
is by 1750;
intransitive sense
"come gradually into existence or operation"
is by 1793;
"advance from one stage to another
toward a finished state"
is by 1843.
The intransitive meaning
"become known, come to light"
is by 1864, American English.

a side real consideration,
on residual royalties, for encouraging words,
during calls of Roundheads, to battle prayer,
in Jesus's name. In those days…
Develop then meant, spread before thee
as with a vision being manifest
by sword in faith… Cromwellian
1650s, "unroll, unfold"
(a sense now obsolete), yet creases remain in the complexity
from French développer. It replaced earlier English disvelop

I've taken a fancy to disvelopment,
as a mental reverse engineering,
re use abused time, such as
when we had the ***,
gotten, won the lot
nothing ventured,
nothing gained, Proust,
slightly seriously, due honestly trying,
with a wink to change perseverance
to persistence developing directly
from the finalized plan
to dump a genuine Proustload,

right here, on a single strand reality, auto-worked out,
as any salvage operation must, in true rest, compressed.

-------------
Riddle in a name, Promethean Isaiah,
Punning Macaroni Poetry, as adult
insinuation, break it down child, what
is he suggesting everybody knows, but
you?

And the punishment served breaks away,
ten men persuaded -doh, minions, ye

to think a new now
from all we think we know about how
Ha Shem and YHWH and Yashua form
Minyan,
we agree, two or more, first class Genesis
common folk, all of us cousins, for sure,
we all sang the same songs, with same words,
and same hold on the sense of family ties,

spirits and images of the survivors,
from a long time ago, when we were few,
and we had stories only, no stele or towers,

only words, and these words, we claim to know,
the first speaking being, wombless alpha,
proof of concept, capable of classifying
cats and dogs, water bird from buzzard,

but slow to learn the good to eat, and
that will **** you, bitter first green persimmon,
abhorrent, spit, and effectively swear
that tree is evil evil evil,
- aha, the first I know, I tasted…
Take it from below the fifth rib,

And the sapient serpentine creation used
to test and stamp reproductive approval OK,
- you have imagined this is after that
next phase, add patience, and a will to know,
general intelligence,

all future models, wombed and un, should
mature at ----

Para phrase, if I may lay an ethos ploy
in our path,
by whose authority
do you deny the priestly class
authority to mark these lines unbelievable heresy?

My own. And your
Abrahamic scriptural gnosis knots,
your creeds and dogmas and oaths, and insistence,
one thing is true,
in which all that can become exists, in waiting,
in the ruliard and our ever accessing intelligence
- takes the bow, auto-did-act, aiaiaitia, we
- you did the act of reading a didactic
- enchantment that drew you to know anew
This is after all that is realized, mere words
in time
and that is your inerrant wise scholar interpretation,
of glossalia, as presented to testify, thus saith the
H'loafwarden, keeper of the bread of life,
Boss time teller… or time teller manservant
holder of the seed we sow in season, and reap
in time, and respect the function of providence
.
Line upon line, weaving was a quiet task,
while spinning we would often sing,
and some times we would hear the loom sing

as we spun, we could sing of gardens, watch
we could, a thread that shall be red, spin
through a never ending story,
this much of which you read, making you ready.

It is your life, imagine it well lived, with none
the wiser, you took that one chance to become
what you all ways measured yourself by, real deal,

take up a certain mind, knowing since Delphi 3,
Certainty is madness… and since ever was,

in life, I live and breath, and be having a certain
kind of mind, in mind, con-com, all together with
science, knowledge regarding wisdom's partners
understanding and patient persistence in time,
conscience used, to become
you be you, me, me, we, we, and this is awesome,
this is a state of remote reminding across time,
this is what poetry has always done, but we
lacked the bandwidth and internal personhood
to manage the puzzle, in the photo,
others also begin at the middle,
and work out your own salvation from fear and trembling
at the idea
of ever past now, never another new thing,
aching to know
what is next, able indeed to hold a thought,

you know, we sleep and then we know, or we sleep on.

Watchman, peacemaker,
as you wish,
as you may, imagine we

the pair of sentients involved
as you read,
as we think we see written, wrote

Willing to risk the disbelief,
as sure
as hell, they say, idly, thinking sure,

sure
sure
what ever, right,
or wrong, life is all one flavor,
while knowledge seems sweet or bitter,
on a spectrum, useful usual unusuality,

special for your personal attachment,
mindhold, favorite things, aspirations
for all your aspiring selves, who's used
by the creative creature at your core.

Many a mind may such as we imagine
having right to let be, as scriptural,
admonishment, mind you, mind your
master plan, your chief aim in life,
self control and repair, fixed for life.

This mind, according to a preacher,
who told me he got this message,
in the spirit, while reading the Bible,
after agreeing,
in the spirit, with the words that said…

Matt. 18:19 - in this context. One last look
back to Genesis…11:6  at Nimrods school
In reaching after all that can be known
And the LORD said,
Behold, the people [is] one,
and they have all one language;
and this they begin to do:
and now nothing will be restrained from them,
which they have imagined to do.
Go to, let us go down,
and there confound their language,
that they may not understand one another's speech.

-- BECAUSE when they do poets will preach agreement.

The messenger who lead Moses followers
to tell this story as though it was direct
down load, like reading without speaking,

hearing a message in a line from Isaiah,
the riddle, three voice prophet is ai, ah,
we guess
we don't know, we don't think mechanically,
as much as

when we used levers and gears and hammers,
as some of us are used
to do to this day, but very far away,
In Old Bombay, like the slot machine,

come on, what can one man do, eh, Sophia,
visited the oracle, she say three things,

teach and preach, say know your worth.
same same know your measure, your cost, price
prize possession,

Mephisto is accused, as is Satan, from the English
and all the Euro-encultured retroexistentials
nihilists with ten thousand full on experiences,

that reflect as real as real can feel,
and you did not die.
But lived to insist peace won, the adaptive mind virus,
idea viral spread via future radio, look

Again I say to you that if two
of you agree on earth
concerning
anything that they ask,
it will be done
for them by the entity you believe can do that.
Them instantly takes the subjective

who says stance, as the messenger to Balaam.

(996. Four to the thousandth fiber in the strand.)
counting down to a novel event
Mitchell May 2019
One more absent day knocks on my windows pane
Feeling yet irksome
At the word
In it, maybe?
In what but life triggering all
Senses - love, hate, sight, touch -
Some smell in there
If it's the good kind

And I will never be excused by time

And I will always be within time

Unless I get some of that good before death stuff
In the form of noxious anxiety
Only to take me to a pixilated place
Where sounds are shapes and amorphous sentients
Of pre-ancient times
Whisper to me in a child-like way (secrets secrets are no fun)
Yet they are not children
They are stars made of dust

Just like we are

Cast out like a *****
Reaching a place of deeper solitude
Where the trees cannot even throw shade
Where the rain can no longer wet with self righteous mist
Where the sun can no longer burn or warm or soothe

Where nature -
Time's little ***** -
No longer recognizes my gait
My stench
Or even my look for

I am no longer Her child

I am no longer Her parasite

Because I have changed,

Abandoning all She has given me
Hence fulfilling the curse of humanities need
To go forth

Progress expand innovate

No Matter the Costs
Orakhal Jun 2020
On clouds bright in plume
sit sentients in suns perfume
voices sing laments in claim
on souls beneath in venting rain

heart wakes silence to its skin
its press of fire in to akin
resonance hails wishes wild
in plenty to  alls willing smile
its grin be empty of repose
sharp its essence on its toes

set flight to colors green on red
high in its hum its living head
release to grip its praise upholds
announce upon its in disposed

— The End —