Singularity of Things 


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I have been endlessly committing errors
Since I was born, human
Won’t you scatter dust for me?
There is scant intellectual art that
Survives the afternoon of our lives

The day is immobile in its turns
The living day and the live night
The bridge of vein and machine
Waiting to become one
Waiting to be augmented by

Big data and imagination
Each requiring the other
In a symbiosis of what could be
Father and child, ancestors and descendent
Our descendents are no longer human

Not what we may have called ourselves, once
Everything speaks now, it’s the
Internet of things, the IP version six
Of how everything will be transformed
You wanted to know about the new world?

Wait twenty years, watch
How the curtains on the world will be opened
Love will be 3D printed in the form
Of loving androids, voices from
Software will counsel and educate me

I’ll be born into knowledge
Arriving forever at my new self.

On Futurism in the Moment 


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I don’t believe in living
In the present, I don’t agree.
With all the quotes that say so
We have to conform in the present

With how the world will be in forty years
For that will be the present soon enough
We have to know what’s inevitable
And work to speed up those changes

For in conforming to the future
We are truly in harmony with the past
For we live in a current of historical momentum
So powerful, we are agents of it

So when I hear the phrase “living in the moment”
I find it terribly naive and hopelessly out of touch
With the spirit of time and the zeitgeist
It’s counter-intuitive, however, a certain amount

Of cultural homogeneity is inevitable
So to drop our differences is a good thing
To adopt the common trend
To augment intelligence with artificial intelligence

For an older generation, it’s adopting social media
To use analytics, to partner with machine-learning
It’s the only way this species will survive
Better to be partners than enslaved
Conforming with the future is the real present.

Poems from D y i n g E u r o p e 


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Poems from D y i n g E u r o p e

What if from Tundra to cities
My people refine themselves
Until we are one finger of

The seventeen hands of the Cosmos
I’m alone on the roof
With an unlimited number of stars
Who look back upon me
With an unlimited number of eyes

We are souls created from
The same music, murmuring
Mantras of evolution

What if from Nomads to star-divers
We become custodians
To repent from centuries of destroying
Would we not then make choices
To recognize that God is dancing

In the universe and we must
Be a gift unto the worlds
Or else in gulps of light, go extinct

Blindly like any species, that failed
To arrive at a sustainable balance
I’m holding a cup of water
To the Milky Way
And she’s burning gold down on me

For I’ve become a connoisseur
Of her butterflies, strawberries, birch, hazel
And I’m a tiger on fire

I’m going extinct in my own lifetime
And it’s not my death I’m afraid of.

S l a v e r y to a Fake Future Reality #amwriting #revolution #policestate #matrix


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S l a v e r y to a Fake Future Reality

What of the study of realism
In a world becoming simulative
How can we tempt the children
With reality, when they are lost
In augmented virtuality?

An angel’s lips to kiss, we think,
But not a girl by their side
No flower-bells to haunt

Only designer babies I am afraid
Who are the masters of machines
More intelligent than them
What of the future, when
Revolution will be improbable, impossible

For the elite will be the state
And democracy will all-trodden blink
For men who as youth know they

Will never own a job or be possessed
By the kind of value their grandparents
Took for granted, is this real then?
This economy where a few profit
For the sacrifice of the many

Where every nation is in debt
And every house is over-priced
What of the study of realism

It has become a lost art
And loveliest of art and poetry
Goes unseen, unheard and unread.

When Planets are married to Humanity


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When Earth shall be No longer Home

Shall we not remember Earth
Shall the water not remember us?
If we would go extinct
Our simulations of reality

Like, economy, politics
So far from our descendants
So besides the point
My only belonging

Takes place hundreds of years from now
In a future I treasure more
Than these cites of unbeing
The portrait of my dreams

Is not abstract, it’s the hope
In humanity, while teasing
Beauty from analytics
And art from Big Data

I think only artificial intelligences
Will truly be able to record
Where our faith in ourselves
Became our godright, our birth

Into another way of being
And that’s the future
Green on terraformed planets
That I’m more comfortable
Belonging to this species.

Ghazal Aquarius


59

Ghazal Aquarius

I’m nobody! But strangely
I quiver with the future
A spark lets fire fly in me
I cannot know it the way I do

It lives in me, as others
Follow custom of tradition
They own it, they prophesize doctrine
I’m nobody! Not even a rebel

But the future is drearily awake
In me, like a momentum punch
Of light and change, decades
Fast forward in my brain

Until we are, a new kind of we
And I am embraced by technology
The pain of being separated
From that telepathy and empathy

It’s not something I can endure
For too many years, living like this
In the past, where people are
So separate as make-believe individuals.

Story of Nature


Human – business evolution

The birds kept singing that
The birds had once seen
Flying saucers, though we
Didn’t understand their songs?

Octopi would once inherit
The Earth, after we had passed
It all seemed improbable

But nature had a way of making
Melancholy dreams a reality
If the stars that move together
In some sort of order

Could fly like birds across
The skies, then men could die
Like they had always done

To make way for ocean creatures
Reptiles, intelligent squirrels
Evolution had a way of mocking
Those animals that went extinct

With new varieties, it didn’t matter
That men thought they were special
Or that men were the creators

Of their own ruin, women didn’t
Exist anymore to empathize with them
Men did it to themselves and left
Life to nature’s own wisdom
In truth, the way it had always been.

Link: http://ocean.si.edu/blog/so-you-think-youre-smarter-cephalopod

Teach me to Heare Heaven’s voice


Goe and catch a falling starre
That stars have watched us all
Our lives, in our horoscopes
And as anyone might study

A sentient race, still filled
With so much awe and hate
Things invisible to see
But quite evident in our history

If thou findst an Earth that
Has not destroyed itself, there
There would be peace, but
Oft’ after many trials, pilgrimages

To the outer edge of distance
To start again, on a brighter earth
If one day the planets seem strange
Just remember all beings go there

As surely as the rivers reach the sea
Goe and catch a falling starre
And imagine all the creatures
Waiting for us to mature
To welcome us into galactic-community.

Age of the Quantum Machines


[a true science-fiction poem]

29

Angels hailed that solemn hour
The breath of man transferred
To machine, a little more
Each decade, until
Bioeugenics, discrimination

Against organics, the weak
Without cognitive implants
Heavens dissolved in tongues of fire
AIs owned stocks, corporations
Became the property of supercomputers

Concede then the victory, old humanity
To your children, not your natural heirs
But the inheritors of your ruin
Of your bioweapons, Ebola
Of your hypocrisy, climate change

Of your wealth seeking, inequality
Not yet my son’s distracted eyes
Could meet his fate among the
Congress of Quantum entities
These were the turning years

Where man’s destiny ended
The rise of Cyborgs, Enhanced humans
And the monopoly of a more
Advanced civilization breaking away
From the old, evolution’s funny
Little Epilogue, hardly a surprise
To the transhumanistic philosophers.

30

Starlike Pedestrians


55

The future is intangible
each world leaps ahead of thought
we cannot keep up
ahead of sound
ahead of the night

this world’s lips
kiss ideas not ready to be born
but their time will come
the scarlet tattoo of centuries
like Mars, and new Earths

nothing can prevent survival
not red stars, not pandemics
The future is a prophetic beggar
not asking us if we are alright
but asking if we are willing to risk

to move to a more prosperous town
can change our destiny
to move to a further star
can change our descendants
irrevocably, splinter colonies

choice becomes lineage
fate becomes legacy
destiny becomes the bridge we had to burn
to save the forest

Freedom


18

The architecture of silence stretches
across whispers of escaped souls
I get up blindly to pray for internal rapture

in the blood-brain barrier
everything is dark, there is no exit
only the variables of lives and lifetimes
the routines of existence slowly
debating semantics, labels, information

processing, an endless churning
of how to become more intelligent collectively
the architecture of water is this

that life perpetuates itself and evolves
so slowly as to be nearly imperceptible
how long will it take the streets
to lead to the stars, for the cities to hover
under water in the depths of oceans?

we’ll have to see how the mechanical birds
how they find beings just like us
or how artificial intelligence may be

our descendants, our ways seems so
cruel and old and painfully repetitive.

Power of Landscapes


3

We were all still lives in a landscape
Carrying on our shoulders the preferences
Of a world in waiting, being born

From our chest emerged
The stub of progress
A leg bone of surviving

Dignity that approached
The macrocosm with underlying
Curiosity, humility, midnight affairs

With far-away stars, we were
The children of death, or so it seemed
Ready to produce, consume, destroy –

Maybe we were not models of being mortal
But elements raged around us
That hit us like glass, bone, metal, flesh

Our families could not abandon matter
We gave line to inheritance, jerking back
From the end-of-life, no matter the obstacles

We were all living in a landscape
Of pyramids of our own species.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Riding-Sunrise-401736095

“Go Ahead, For they Will Never Grow Older or Change”


6

We watch the galaxies fade
as if growing old was a long time
I shall take a long time, you said

as we loved the years until
they receded like angels-on-the-horizon
It’s majestic to enter and exit this life

they will only grow dimmer, you tell me
of the stars, the way we travel
through the trees, is not unlike the suns

how long does it take to reach
the end of a wave of light?
we watch the galaxies fade

through many eyes, through many minds
but it is all the same, blood still glistens
souls still shine, time the fiction of

centuries seem like a laughably short time
no matter how much you like your machine-side
it’s always been a question of oneness & communication
the youth walk one step further for us all

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Scattered-395278683

your name is already on the passenger lists


148

Like our bodies imprint
not a sign will remain
that we were in this place
so live like this, let sand

straighten itself, let nature
smooth the fabric of destiny
Like words that float
dates are already in view

in which you no longer exist
and what was your place in
the names alone that deaden no hearts
the languages that i know

can only briefly convey
we borrow meaning for a season
and treasure love as a tool
like our bodies imprint

our truths will have died with us
and many a person will
have similar fates, or so
we can imagine easily

who will help me? none will come
to the beck and call of desires
that were so brief as to be shadows.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Singapore-394870973