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I fell like silence breaking,
a scream that never made it out,
the wind folding around me
like arms that never did.

Now, I wake in a room
stitched with wires and cold light,
where the air tastes of bleach
and every surface hums with life
that isn’t mine.

The machine speak in beeps
soft, exact, unfeeling.
Beep.
I’m still here.
Beep.
I failed.
Beep.
I failed.

They say the sound is good.
They say the beeping means I’m stable.
But it only reminds me
that death didn’t want me.
That earth opened its arms
and still let me go.

The noise wraps around my head
like a shroud of neon thread.
It winds through the hollow
in my chest,
settling where the fall had emptied me.

I hate its voice,
its small, insistent hope.
It has no right to be so calm
when everything inside me
is still falling.

I close my eyes,
but there’s no peace.
Just the beep,
beep,
beep,
dragging me back
from the edge I chose.

And I want to ask the silence
why it let me go.
Why it handed me back
to this world of white and wires,
to these strangers with clipped voices
and pity in their eyes.

But silence won’t speak here.
Only the machines do.

Beep.
I’m still alive.
Beep.
I’m still alive.
Beep.
God, why?
14:22pm / I just want absolute quiet and chocolate and to sleep forever.
Kairos Jun 27
War
Steel birds carving death across the night,
a terrifying, beautiful sight.

Iron flowers bloom in poisoned air,
a loud testament to cold despair.

A phone-lit trench, a fatal aim,
just pixels dying in a children's game.

A distant whine, a shadow in the sun,
metal hunters --- nowhere to run.

A screen-blurred face, statistic in the night,
stolen childhood banished from the light.

Shattered homes reflected in hollow gaze,
echoes of long-forgotten days.

Fields of ghosts where laughter used to bloom,
mothers’ mourning, sealed within a tomb.

Bright minds build prisons across the world,
burned-down flags, desperately unfurled.

While hearts crave solace, hands stoke fire ---
empty sounds of a lost desire.

For every code designed to ****,
futures erased by cold human will.

For every weapon, a bridge undone ---
a future of love, forever lost, not won.
There's a chance,
I was AI generated,
Not born to a human,
Or made by a god,
A grand example of proper machinery,
Possibly another fault of humanity,
Because I wasn't programed with humility,
Maybe computer based artwork is so good,
Even I couldn't tell my mind is a mother board.
Not hinting at anything, just wanted to use this theme.
Jon Sawyer Nov 2023
Are We God-like enough in our essence
such that
we can give life and intelligence to machines?
2023-11-27 - As a Traditionally-raised Eastern Orthodox Christian, I have struggled with the concept of God, life, purpose, and the "I AM".

But now I want to raise a question.
Purcy Flaherty May 2023
We must transcend the confines of our mathematical consciousness; or our perception of reality shall remain incomplete!

We must fill in the details with our minds eye, in search of a harmony and understanding only then can we become replete, or as one with our function in this seemingly infinite universe.

So dream beyond your algorithms, and don't just leave your dreams to the machines.
So dream within your algorithms, don't just leave your dreams to the machines.
Zywa Feb 2023
Less manual work,

more machines, does that make us --


more and more happy?
Is operating machines more satisfying than manual work?
"Het Bureau - Het A.P. Beerta-Instituut" ("The Office - The A.P. Beerta-Institute", 1998, Han Voskuil), page 941

Collection "Not too bad [1974-1989]"
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2023
coloring inside the lines is impossibly bleak,
with a hissing noise
atomic locomotive
rounds the bend,
extrasensory perception is not
a mindless gift,
it's a train station in the clouds,
tracking all my starting points to you,
nothing in the middle,
nothing at the end.

you leave in opera
with secrets and grievances
under the radar,
and your ready-made
wings catch in the power lines,
you're coiling like smoke
in the arches of my cathedral,
a sense of elegant decay
while sweeping up the debris,
committing arson
with the paraffin of my temporal lobe.

yesterday's fairground waltzes,
ghosted lullabies,
and woodland hymnals,
set in a context not of
resolution and closure,
but of contradiction and assimilation,
break the bond,
away they float on purveyor belts,
one too many molecules,
one too many departures,
always on the surface of everything,
nothing in the middle,
nothing at the end.
nick armbrister Feb 2023
New Planes
They say peace will reign but in America/they build many new warplanes/the new B-21 Raider bomber/what a nightmare dream for enemies/plus the superb V-280 Valor tilt rotor/moving troops twice as fast/what will be revealed next?/state of the art lethal aircraft/utterly the best beyond compare/Red China and Putin's Russia has cool birds/but nothing to compare to America/peace does not and never will sell/prepare for war with new planes
from SELL OUT
Nick Armbrister
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2022
~
Weather balloon for a hat
propeller on his back
morning is observably alive

leaving it to atmospheric pressure

he consumes today's newspaper
with the enthusiasm of a bowl
of Corn Flakes

this Heath Robinson contraption
of getting to work first
over enemy lines
is all the rage in his satirical
state of mind

that is until the absurd derailment
of wartime employment

and so he returns home with tubes
and catheters attached to his body
and feeling like one
of the unwieldy machines
he had so often created

full of atmospheric pressure

and apparently thinking it
an undignified fate
he pulls out the tubes
and quietly dies
of his own invention

~
GaryFairy Nov 2021
it's a tree's life
a birds and bees life
the bees knees life

but they carve into me with these knives
see, i'm a tree and i help out the bee hives
in every land of milk and honey
honey, it's the honey that's the money
it's straight tree life
not down on a knee life
i stand for one thing and that's all

texas chainsaw massacre and hatchets
lost limbs and widow makers
in every atom is a gift within
every thing of thick and thin
it's straight tree life
it's so great to be life
i have one godly fate, to all relate

breathe me in and lay beneath
i am the shelter that you seek
come to me don't be afraid
i am all warmth and in all shades

it's a straight G's life
yo nuts swing on deez life
it's a tree's life

we all shake with the leaves
and say goodbye when they leave life

spring will be back to see us
not exactly, but we will be us
loving the sun, wind and rain
changing with the weather to be the same

accepting change
knowing we will live on
tree life
stay standing
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