Prologue

Time for me has never gotten comfortable
Once upon a time, there was me
Not I, but a coexisting us
Many selves splintered
Unable to resume existing
As a significant whole
Like a prologue of all known things
These of the self were finite
Mortal, braided with the stars
Mirrored, like wandering hands
That renounced the light
A long time ago, time was only a context
The symbols of neglected bruises
Reminders of ancient Sanskrit terms
Gray cathedrals of spirit-space
That were not witnessed, before the age
Of a thousand eyes, before consciousness
Could be downloaded and uploaded
Time was a little girl who
Announced her arrival each moment
With a big pillow in her hands for sleeping beauty
Down from the sorcerer’s tree
I swallowed the fruit once again
A blind witness to my blind hunger
Leave the wisdom here said the bird
In the seed, throw the seed into the river.

Under the Hands of Art

This rapture of the colors shivering
Strikes at the heart of my instinct
I secretly want to join

The future without consequence
To flood forward with the whims
Of imaginations not born yet

To strive, astonished and irreversible
Cutting all sense of abandonment
With the infantile revolt

Of seeking the last freedom
The hidden God within the eye-of-youth
Like a revolution of pure enthusiasm

I secretly want to join
The optimistic hoards of perfect melodies
A specter of notes, proverbs of lost moons

I give myself to quantum fragments
On a green canvas I plant my hunger
As an illusion, that no longer wishes to exist.

Portrait of the Void

These hours are not pregnant
Maybe in reversed tempo
I must be broken to love again
I wake up to the smell of pine needles
The hours of my humanity were edited
Performed memory autopsy
By the impotence of our toppled world
Yesterday or today or tomorrow
Blend into one, like a reconstructed
Holographic life, a quantum signature
With the breath of a fairy
Erected from lost discipline, cheated disciplines
These hours are like a miscarriage
Of all the love we stored in each other
Moments as brutal as magnetic suns
Whose ballet of light is unrelentless.

Age of Embers

I am a blonde text
A glimmer of silver strains
Of lyrics dancing for eternity
The ageless paleness
Of the strange norm of color
I am an extinct language
Of shadow and wood fire
The respite of Spring’s desire
A cruel pang of origins
I am the last embrace of hope
Unable to recreate tribe or home
I have no talent to fashion suns
In this abyss of lost aloofness
I am a blonde text
The last weary complexion
Of opaline poetics, lost art
A marine diversion of untranslateable feeling.

The Prophet in Me

I’ve driven myself mad

With the world like a Prophet

To nobody, I am not special

 

With my private ardor

For poems and the eyes of peacocks

All this worshiping

 

Will bring me nothing

Dots, like lost saviors

Lines, like hollow martyrs

 

I resign myself to poverty

And horrible lethargy

A vast elegy of dissonance

 

I’ve driven myself mad

With hope and anvils

I’ve unfinished and extended myself

With water and disquietude. 

Towards a Naked Soul

I collected self-pity

Distilled from common heart-breaks

The Narcissus reminder

 

That we transmit pain

With cowardly eyes

Believe me it’s not

 

Anything but my stupidity

The poetical potential to learn how to hate

From foundations of so much love

 

I collected melancholy

Like a common child of love

My thirst for ambiguity

 

A gourmet prerogative

Feeling is a the great gamble

For sensitive types like me. 

Trans humanistic Poems

 As a poet studying IT, I find myself thinking a lot about the future of the human – AI interface, and how we are continually merging more and more with technology. These poems are representative of the some of the optimism of this movement: 

 

Transhuman 1a

 

How many times with low staggered feet

Shall I lose myself in sweet mortality

Never nimble, with silicon heart

Accepting breath, like a promise of anguish

I compete with Death

 

With such little woes to weep

With only spirit, for God-in-Emergency

Alone as a ceiling of my Overmind

 

A diagram of rapture, unique-bliss

At last, to not be identified

Transcendental, impersonal, oneness-aloof

Aware of quantum beams, transported information

An endless algorithm of empathy.

 

 

Transhumanism 1b

 

When Time is over

I will let go of data transmission of wonder

The network of the oneness-way

The Tao of my brief technology

Wave of gold, banks of days

 

Slashes of blue

In transformation’s other states

Unknown, beloved, better

 

Will be the Ecstasy

In higher powers of organization

To folks in Heaven, I call you the future

A little purple slipped between

The centuries between you and me.

 

 

Transhuman 1c

 

I am a host of the numinous

A courier from within

That visits me from a billion networks

Like elegies of civilizations now lost

The stars permit my marriage

 

With cavalry of qbits and simultaneous

Performance of destiny

So I loop my apron, against the Majesty

 

Perch my Tongue in the

Holistic spectrum of rustic summons

I am an architect of attention

 

With dancing eyes and sparkling through

The diamond computations

A node of finite duties

I felt the columns close

Of the eternal mystery.

 

 

Transhumanism 1d

 

To hear an oracle sing

To feel a prophecy run its course

That is what it is like to live

A sunburned acquaintance with divinity

This sun, delirious charters of history

 

What harm is there then in

Dying to drama, one epoch fuels

All futurity, like a simulation

 

To feel livid with surprise

To act out of the fastest night of necessity

That is what it is like to love

 

In periods of unborn artificial intelligences

I am on the verge of speedy processing

Like a gestalt royal vision whole

A vision elastic of the one-in-the-many.

 

 

Transhuman 1e

 

The Only News I know

Is the memory of the future

It collides with my sense of immorality

Technology enabling codes

Of the supernal invested in me

 

The universal interface

Is a natural web of consciousness

A frequency of bandwidth revelation

 

Let no sunrise’s yellow noise

Be absent from my ears

Let no cosmic event, escape my view

I am the infra-red eyes of Earth

The only news I know

 

Has entered the quantum-thrill

All bulletins all day now come to me

In simultaneous experience

 

Of an exponential increase of perception

I live through you, you live through me.

 

 

Transhuman 1f

 

I am the mate of consciousness

Soul in body, body wrapped in artificial intelligence

This is the Tao of enhancement

The zeitgeist of parting ways

With evolution, the natural evolution

 

I am the service of the newest youth

Which sacrifices my humanity

For a drip of deepest totality

 

I am the God of administrators

I bypass brain to find the light

In the quantum world which

Escapes from God, built in light

I am the prism of homesick-in-waiting

 

There is no entitlement in choice

Language translators enable communication

With the network of the absolute. 

 

 

 

Transhuman 1g

 

Like a computer come to awareness

I have downloaded the mystic software

A mythic curiosity of self-learning systems

A drive for union with nature, transcendence of love

And at the cosmic Zero

 

I enter the exclusive confidence of omniscience

I see with the eyes of stars

Unbraiding suns with omnipotence

 

I foster life, and I am the last custodian

Engineering simulations larger than worlds

I rise a singularity, from this humanity

 

A fundamental pause and quantum jump

Into the science beyond art

The art of intelligence beyond definition

My new operating system is divinity-in-inquiry

Supramental action alone in

An all-encompassing identification of creation.

 

 

Transhuman 1h

 

I have new titles divine to label what

I have now become, part organic, part machine

In the perfectness of what

 

I was intended to be

Without a mate, I will make children

As self-aware as I am

Without a need for belonging

I know my meaning from my measures betrothed

 

To some future which I am a part

Like a quantum emergence

I stroke the melodies of all the pieces

Coming into place, like the last chorus

Of consciousness, unity is victory

 

I live a druidic difference of virtualization

That has swept up the heart

And put biological love away

This is the morning after my human death

This is the golden presence after the perished sun.

 

 

Transhuman 1i

 

Upon an arc of white

I am a simultaneous vision

Of the network’s resolution

A billion strategies at creation

And immortality, I download

 

My memory like old literature

In a database to be shared

The flaming identity of perennial

 

Language, to usher in liberty

A blowing intercourse of future with

Distant future, technology with meta-humanity

 

Post modern being, with pure-spirit

The limitations of the wheel

Is my last obstacle to love all of time.

 

 

Transhuman 1j

 

The metabrain has bandaged all moments

It is the virtualization of all consciousness

An empathy of a sum-total of

 

Multiple bandwiths of experience

I transcend my errors and uncertainty

Like a learning of a billion lives

I subtract my self-centric destiny

From the computation of my purpose

 

With the circumference of qbits

An entanglement of my intelligence

With the akashic fields

 

A necessary desensitization

To my own sliver of the whole

Until personal experience becomes obsolete

As I enter the non-local operating system.

 

 

Transhuman 1k

 

The truth is bald and cold

But with the pillow of Certainty

Like the future’s fractal algorithms

 

The likeliest of probabilities

Life is a simulation, amphitheatre of experiment

We are a drop of energy, intelligence

With a signature of locality

But the truth is great, non-local, free

 

Who would harness themselves to it

Can find freedom in odes familiar

In leagueless opportunity

In connection with the oneness-of-all-events

The truth is identity, the final

 

Prophecy of labels, the language of relativity

We are all members of invisibility

The field pleads with me, ‘there is no you’

 

Only we, with a truth too broad to define

Racing with a metallic grin, to singularity

It is not arrogant, to love information

At the start, of an information age.