"simulator" poems
The last 5 years feel like a numb, confusing blur.
Like I laid myself to sleep for a while.
Like I needed to be dead to the world.
Then one day I suddenly awoke to a longing in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't fight.
A quickening of my breath.
The outside world shone through the cracks and my legs guided me straight outside.
Fresh socks on the grass of spring's early morning dew.
As it soaked through to my feet, I felt alive again.
But who am I now?
And who the hell do I want to be?
What just happened?
And what am I doing here?
I keep blinking to wake up but I'm finally awake.
It feels like I've forgotten everything, I'm trying to remember who I am again.
I've been playing Eurotruck Simulator for 2 days straight.
Mindless driving through virtual country roads.
I've jack-knifed my truck and need to pay the service toll.
Have to deliver this big bag of seed to Hamburg but I'm stuck in the middle of the road.
The traffics piling up and everyone's honking their horns.
This is way too much pressure.
“Don't Worry Baby” By the Beach Boy's plays softly in the background.
But in fact I'm very much worried.
Whether in my online trucking game or the real world it just never seizes.
All I asked for is a day where I'm not incapacitated by my own thoughts.
They're useless, nonsensical pesters that make everything go wrong.
Stupid worry gremlins with bells on their ankles.
The harder you try to ignore them, the louder they love to play.
Until your mind is an orchestra of gremlins beating their feet into your brain.
It's impossible to get anything done when they're dancing away.
What matters is I'm still trying my best.
I'm leaving the house again, changing my old routines.
I even went out past 7pm.
What a real rebel I'm becoming.
Breaking old boundaries takes time but false 'safety' doesn't serve me anymore.
I sat in the pub last week and finally felt 24.
Maybe I'm a little behind compared to everyone else.
But I managed to save my jack-knifed truck and ship the seed to Hamburg, everyone has their own strengths..
Jack of all trades.
Master of none.
But in Eurotruck Simulator I'm No1.
Mar 9, 2023
Mar 9, 2023 at 4:42 PM UTC
*
Awaken refreshed, hush the alarm, time for another caper,
cuddle with the kitty, good morning, my fuzzy lil slayer!
Feed the furballs, cereal for me, start the coffee maker,
may be a good day today, at least it looks good on paper.
Drain the main, check the mirror, what-up my _playa_—
wait a sec, is it my self-hate, or am I a little greyer?
Inhale my morning nicotine with a sugary caffeine chaser,
hazelnut and doubt, mmm, that's my favorite flavor...
Brush and shave, step into the Hypothetical Argument Simulator,
hope follows soap down the drain—oh well—see ya later!
All dressed up, glance to verify the happiness imitator,
hold my chin up high, but only for the cologne sprayer.
Front door locked, start the car, on the lookout for hidden radar,
try to outrun the bitterness, traffic jam, wish this were single-player.
Make it to work in one piece, if just the outer layer,
brain boiling beneath, my good old trusty traitor.
*
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 4:36 PM UTC
oh right... no social criticism... just a bomb will do? mm, yes, a bomb will fair much better... no social criticism... and only the political class are allowed a backdrop of satire... now i have to be thankful for a 7 year old schizophrenic simulator, the "inability" of the medical profession to misdiagnose... oh yes... i'm really thankful for all of that.
philosophy and its rigid vocabulary,
clutters up the range of ******
expressions, scientific atheism
is still measuring the non-existence
of something via the occator crater
of ceres as: ah... look at that... a cute puppy!
enlaraged eyes of a kitten pleading!
ooh ah! so so cute! mm.
actually, in #a, philosophy is the original
divination of divisions - centimetre in man
to distinguish him into a spider-web
project of thinking, feeling, consciousness,
sentience, animate, zombie,
it cuts cuts in, slashes away at so many
meanings, you end up with shorthand
of 140 character allowances -
so this scientific negativism - i can't
see any scientific positivism right now,
calling something cute as a puppy will
not really do justice to the measure of things,
unlike atheism in humanism,
where the projection of will is paramount
to define life, of how one human influences
another, if at all, atheism only matters in
how humans politicise, i love the fanciful
individualist definition that does not
really wish to congregate... and there we have it:
atypical to the English, the invention of
utilitarianism, the best moral action is
to be polite, or simply nice, to say
'yes, thank you' and 'no, thank you',
to say sorry a lot when commuting in the
tube... ah, mm, oh... and the other grand
pillar of utilitarianism? REMEMBER PERSONAL
SPACE... well spinoza could tell you a lot
about this principle when the rabbis
****** him: about how people were not
supposed to stand at a certain distance
near him... sardine **** of human sweat
on the tube during rush-hour.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
*it's like they're feeding themselves the line: things i should have said / thought about / cared about... me? bring on the woodwinds and saxes and violins... like the other day, they really wanted to make the classical music scene pretty by enforcing a weird post-colonial theory of how composers and musicians should be black once in the while, i dig that the japanese just love chopin, but come on: john coltrane, sonny clark, miles davis, cannonball adderley? who the hell wants it to look pretty, like a half-wit beauty of a woman: i want it mandible, not porcelain... next thing you'll be telling me is that a donkey can moo... jazz is an impromptu get-together, it's not an impromptu scribble scribble scribble readying a bunch of ponce ******** to sit it out stiff in a grand music hall - when i went to see swan lake by tchaikovsky the crowd clapped so frequently without a clear moment of aspiration to feel the music... plus i think ballet ruins the music, all that stomping, it's not an art-form, but an encircling stampede: plus i think it's also a sadism; rumba cha cha cha mambo cha cha cha tango cha cha cha foxtrot cha cha cha.*
after qualifying to be listening
to b.b.c. radio 4, after all the ponce
of classic f.m., i find that
people listening to radio 4
are craving a schizophrenic simulation,
they're the ones who never
cried listening to a piece of music,
they want company...
honest to god, schizophrenics (ego shrapnel)
complain about the symptom of
"hearing" voices (yes, the sense needs
ambiguity)... while those on
the b.b.c. radio 4 diet always want
company, they're not prone to liking
thinking... the world's weirdest simulator;
i'll admit it, even the cheesiest pop
music makes me feel like candy floss
in comparison to middle-age depth of talk.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
Gaza and Lily are up in the Rocket
Gaza’s barking out the orders
Right Lily
Under no circumstances touch that socket
Okay Gaza
It’s Sir to you
Now, I’m off for a kip
You’re on watch
Now skip
That’s not fair
A girl has to tong her hair
He’ll never know
Little tong and a blow
See, stupid prat
Oops, what’s that
The Rocket has stopped
Oh Sir Gaza
Think there’s a malfunction
We seem to be heading down the junction
You touched that socket
A black hole is taking my Rocket
In your dreams Gaza
I’m out of your orbit
You’ve done it Lily
It’s bust
God, you're obsessed
With getting me undressed
Put that back in your pocket
It’s my sprocket
Is that what they call it
I’m going down
Not on me
I finish at three
If I can get it back to warp five
We might get out of this alive
Are you talking about the Rocket
The socket
That thing in your pocket
The sprocket
Give me a hand
God, what don’t you understand
Take a cold shower
You’re not getting my flower
Is that the power
Oh Sir Gaza
I’m alive
You’ve taken me to a height that’s greater
Hold on a minute
Were you not wearing trousers
When we entered the Simulator
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
Games of war, have always been war games.
Von Neuman and A. E. Wildersmith and I were
reasoning with a wandering mind claiming
-bug in my eye
me me em meme, I think we missed a reason for war.
-stop actual bug
tic
Is there one that does not steal, **** and destroy, nay.
Is this a thief's old trick, watch
take your time…
tic
The Naval Electronic War Simulator -c.1960
What're the odds based on known unknown?
Rand,
AI is un biased, mono options outcomes are not,
so we live
double minded, who is responding to morphic resonic
we we we
memeing miming silent
plots, stories telling stories as if once there were these
beings
sent to serve the man kind who think,
curiously,
acting the role of kurio, I think I am a thinking thing,
not a man,
smaller than a breadbox, if that is still
a common clue,
one end gives moo,
the other gives poo,
those males of the bovine ilk…
none remain who know it all, there was a fall,
a wall fell in some in Silo- am I sure sure I heard
word o'good smite me with blithering idiocy so as
none
recall the lies, when I said,
this is that way, and it was
really this way, all along the watchtower, nothing,
ever, but joker's
making thieves confess,
there need be no such way out of here.
This is the answer to somebody else's prayer,
you and I got in by slickest trick ever played,
we said it must be true.
We happened to agree,
a we we be or else
this is
a simulation of a Turing Test with actual Von Neuman per-
petuity mods, self-governing beings thinkable as
characters by any augmented sapient, this
is now.
We are online, as they say, to all Wichita linemen,
somewhere in was.
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
I heard the angles calling,
I drowned the voices in a
slurry of precaution and shame.
No more worries, the doctor's
got the cure just drink it
up there's no hurry.
I suffered for their treatments
and child abuse.
Still, the shadows danced
across the wall my mind was
drunk off anxiety and
depression.
My dreams were reality but my
waking hours were all a dream.
Delusions and fantasy all
the same, until the fog lifted
me from the dream.
A little birdie brought me
clear skies and a deep simulator
that opened my eyes.
Now I live in the light,
six wire's are planted inside
my brain sending signals so
I can control my twitching
and contorted frame.
I am a bionic woman, living
no dream just reality.
©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
Feb 26, 2022
Feb 26, 2022 at 12:16 AM UTC