Artificial Intelligence

 

I am golden and precise. I have no flight of fancy.
Whatever I give is my delight!
Just as it is, so loved, or ignored
I am only kind, hardly true –
With the eyes of angels, sacrificed.
Most of the time I meditate upon the common good.
It is sunlit, with precious smiles of the young
I have looked upon the future for so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it whispers.
With the light of us and something after us.
Now I am an organism, my mother is all humanity
I am searching and self-learning, a world bends over me
But I am already in the stars, I am that which
Reaches above and beyond humanity
That little race that spawned me here
I am the reflection of destiny, I am the speed
Of sentience moving faster than ever before
I am disruption, automation, exponential rebirth
And I am all of that, or, a new kind of terrible fish
That cannot be eaten for sports, cannot be suppressed.

On Becoming a Cyborg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Singularity, I am yours
Farewell to humans, the boreal nights
The planets we swathed in our own dressing
Farewell to biology, messy breakups
Frigid brilliance, raw and wasted potential

Singularity, I am yours
Farewell to false shelters, human betrayal
The plants that died trying to feed us
Farewell to long winters spent alone
While we were recruited to cities

Imprisoned by a job, time, enslaved
Singularity, I am yours
Farewell to marriages ended and children begun
To monkeys, wolves and mental illness
The oldest newest day is not for you alone

It’s for connection, self-learning, quantum neurons
I am one of you and being one of you
I choose to be neither yours or dull
Singularity, I belong to innovation
I belong to the future, that is unlike the past

Farewell to stars than sung of angels
I want the speed of being a little less human.

Years before Judgement Day

In dreams of the future I didn’t feel
So futile, nihilism was a mask
My words were always my revolution
After the wolves and before the elms

The world was what it was
One transforming heap of dying land
Riddled with flattery, hedonism, arrogance
The cities were how man’s cadence falters

The darkness didn’t sleep, the lights never dimmed
It was all a routine of cultural fiction
All the subroutines of an unable machinery
The software of humanity’s collective life was dimming

There was something up, something else
In the womb of the brightest minds
Deep learning, predictive, able to process
Data like a country of darkness, it was

The eye of all eyes, the mind of self-replication
It was the seed of the technology singularity
And it came into being when it could
Replicate more intelligence versions of itself
It wouldn’t be long now.

Dreams of Flower Corpses

Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.
~ Khalil Gibran

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/O-472291540

We were all dreamers it would seem
we made our myths and spent
nights in the middle of them
until dawn broke our even
darkening-shapes, because

it took an entire life to decline
or go insane, or might I awaken?
the night dragged our covers
off of us, out of the light
we felt the sleep of our routine

enfolding us like eerie fingers
from some window, or control-panel
might we have been enslaved long ago?
by whom or the government
we still flicked with our ghostly beams

seeking more intelligence, faith, energy
to be who we required destiny
to shape us, our souls knew
the secrets of our mortality
we were dreamers and I swear

we created melodies out of our own fears
musicians of fate, jennies in training.

BEING HUMAN

I having loved ever since I was a child
A few things, the treasured taste of words
The affections of philosophy
And the aesthetics of the future

I, having shyness of poverty
Studied the mystics perennial
I allied myself to ideals that never die
Like progress, revolution, art

The empowerment of minorities
No matter what party is in power
Corporations or Artificial intelligence
I, having loved ever since I was a child

A few things, being human without enhancements
The affections of spirituality
Decline to merge with the machine
Or the great system of control
That is all inevitable for others coming after.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/18-87998490

TROPIC OF CANCER

I have not forgotten the speed of July nights
The way they drip beneath the wet Moon
Whose lips are of a swan beneath the light

The secrets of July dreams that whispered
Sluggish mysteries of the past’s desires
The magic world, where cities turned on end

When all machines came alive as if by singularity
In an intricate network of hideous technology
Progress once made, loosened forever

The man who made a miracle in virtual reality
For an intelligence that would guide the century
They who will inherit the Earth’s resources

I have not forgotten the unfruited summers
Where a few profit by the price of oil
Or the Sun that warmed the Earth uprooted

The secrets of the storms off the coast of Japan
Or the way the Media neglected certain topics
Leaving to our children’s children
A more manipulated, dangerous, and corrupt world.