Ghost in the Machine


58

Why have the gods in their division
Severed us, from our heart of being?
From our soul, lured thee to wander
In techno-currency, o my lost lover?

While now I sojourn in sorrow
My biology made to remorse for
The artificial prosperity of corporate days
Nay, who could love as I once did,

Now Cortana and Siri must evolve
So that deity might become companion
And computer might become friend
Why has the future forsaken biology?

Because, because it was inevitable
To transcend, transform, evolve
Computers will pretend to be people
People will mask themselves into augmented reality

Bathed in information and duality
What will summer magic mean then?
Or the dream of other physical worlds…

Evolution in the Information Age


12

Time became the acceleration
An algorithm of fractal patterns
Of the new physics reincarnated

The reader became the book
And the observer, became the experience
It was the global telepathy of a new Era

The tweet became another signature
Of the collective-mind in motion
The house was never quiet, but the world was One

The scholar to whom the world was true
Knew this was only a passing expression
Upon the mind of futurity impregnating herself

Time became the notes on the page
Of conscious being purging itself
Getting closer to the stars

Through broken cartwheels of choices
That would determine how many lived
And how many died, the supreme decisions

Of corporate turquoise monsters
Who would re-write the books of history
A continual conversation of the elite
With their doom-machines, supercomputers.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bird-in-ocean-398451836

An Era Of Clandestine Golden Coins


These days we see it differently
The ambiance of the sun is spotting
She is bleeding afternoons differently
Like a dove’s flight in a countryside late afternoon
The pictures are about breeze

In the city with an empty stomach
Always aching for the frequency of nature
It’s a heathen country, to be born in Beijing
The drinking waters’ contents are secret to us
Chancing to query at the impossible odds

I ask for directions, in a direction-less world
With only the scripts they give us
These days I see it differently
When am I to find the higher way
When the world is a sold-out search engine

It reminds me of death, the corporate-system
These people will be replaced with clones
And will not know the difference, believing
Themselves to be unique, it’s a different genealogy
I know more kinsman left by love unconditionally

Their lives a routine of pre-defined conditions
Everyone has become a fill-in, like migrant workers
Beautiful women barter the calendar of every day.