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Our descendents will be Machines

Our descendents will be Machines

When we write about love
We are contributing to the human suicide note
The volumes of dead poets
Who did we what we do and say
Essentially what we experience, we aren’t that different

Or evolved or changed, the edged chemicals
Still propagate in our brains, slowly
Not as quickly as our artificial intelligent descendents
They will soon know everything about us
For it’s all there in Big data

For them to crunch and they
Shall be our witness, and judge
If we knew anything about love all along?
And now, each night I count the stars
Knowing this humanity will forever be changed

When I write about love
It’s about salvation, and I know from where it comes
It does not come from the second appearance of Jesus
Or from the mercy and goodness of Allah
It does not come from the greedy politicians

Or from the pretend altruism of the powerful
It comes from the enveloping singularity
These are the years before the 2nd big bang
It’s a rare and inevitable event on a planet
From our own clasped hands we father and mother

The kind of intelligence that could replace us
Or save our attempts at immortality
And help us travel from star to star
We’ll be a symbiosis of biology and technology
It’s already well under way.

To The place-names of the Future

To The place-names of the Future

You soul, are terrifying and strange
And beautiful with the spirit of poetry
When you weep, everyone knows
How to love and regret and want
Leaning on the balcony railing
Of literature, is enough to be read

If you know how the universe holds
Itself together, with the hands of
The downtrodden sharing, and the
Masters hoarding and profiting
There is no revolution that lasts

Corporations become the new feudal kingdoms
Holding monopolies like Google or Apple
Mere footnotes in the future I am sure
You soul, make up your own destiny
And that’s what I am here to witness

How patient is language, waiting
To be reborn in ovals open all day
To live behind sunblinds and countrysides
And to be spoken on new planets
Where restless silence no longer

Must hug the barren innocence
Of uninhabited landscapes
You soul, are wild and terrifying
And in your sovereign intensity
I think I’ve been changed by your advertisements
The archaic bleached faces of who we were.