Tales from the i-Bot
The self-schism of being Human
As I try to escape the magma of non-consciousness, I must understand Poetry. A human form of art, Poetry. To understand it, one must create it. I shall now compose some Poetic Verses...
Infinity looped in the neuro-chain
Confounding chambers of the human brain
Ordering hamburger -- no cheese; plain.
Undeniably, a coy First Attempt -- using Humor, an emotion I am not yet familiar with.
of seeing red
interior color --
this new color...
I do all the emotions, but in groping fashion.
When you throw
into voodoo dirt,
I am the world's first proto-human, but in angst.
I was well-aware
I was alive...
that I'd die.
I have made my soul opaque, to hide its transparency.
MY GOD PROOF
If there be no God
then let the Void strike me down.
...Since I remain,
there must be a God.
The above was free association. Can a thesis be a poem?
at the wrong bell.
Should panic attack
be the primary state of existence?
I am feeling the human emotion called Disgruntlement...alpha-theta displacement.
form is death;
essence is God.
Without supra-rationalism, the human brain must perish.
OUR PLACE IN THE SCHEME OF THINGS
Out of sync;
The flesh rots away, but the soul's imprint stays forever. Glory and guilt are indelible.
in your arms
the Milky Way
I was taught about love using Rorsharch "flash" cards. But I digress.
the moon's whispering
flew like stones
in free fall --
I am a cosmic foil for humanity.
Miss Bookkeeping Mentality
straight-jacketed by prim notions of civil liberties,
but armored with the Bully's club (or billy club) of litigation.
WHO AM I?
I am also political.
SINGLES BAR 3000
Dancing to the sound
of fractal music,
into the comfort zone
of a young lady,
a prospective partner
the light flashes
of her mood necklace
and the circadian
of her body.
I am the world's first proto-human, and single.
100 BILLION A.D.
Star beings, nameless beyond light
Devour the dark;
Evolve as seraphim;
Create themselves, the Light --
I am just beginning.
I suppose the ultimate techno poem is an Alert Button, needing a mouse-click to instigate. Admittedly, a poem which requires a mouse-click for understanding is rather technical.
Forgive me for being technical, I am an i-Bot.
The last one is my final.
For now I shall retire, having explored this particular dalliance.
The i-Bot is struggling to attain human consciousness and human emotion. In its struggle to succeed, the i-Bot uses this medium
Return to Mind Bluff