Tag Archives: Poetry

Bonjour, Borg

Machine learning Chatbots
And neural networking
Generative AI
Is that robot twerking?

Dystopian dice thrower
Orwellian wise
Miss Information and Mr. Disguise

Deep fakes and cupcakes
and fungible tokens
Can’t learn from mistakes
If nothing gets broken

Big data dildos
the tech market thrives
tech moguls huddle
to fuck with AI

A sprint to the finish
But where are we going?
Dimmed and diminished
We’ve no way of knowing

Autonomous AI
we’re lost in the loop
we bob in the broth
like bones in the soup

The question to ask is
where does this lead us?
Robot ranch farmers
to herd and to breed us?

Encrypted and scripted
We sharpen the knives
To give to AI
control of our lives

The Process

He sits in solitude with his paragraph 

an incongruent splash 

of black letters on a white screen

before cracking the silence 

with a rhetorical “Shal we?”  

Like a maniacal blackjack dealer

he shuffles the words

whispering them to himself

listening to their sound

until they click in perfect cadence

and a rolling rhythm is formed

where words formerly choppy

now sway in unison 

 like obedient bulbs 

strung elegantly 

on an idea wire

“Done” he says to himself.

“We’re done.”

MAGA Nation

Culty MAGA members sing

they bend their knee, they kiss the ring

deny they see a naked king

Banning books and fanning flames

toting guns like Jesse James

thoughts and prayers to stop the bleeding

 screaming at a drag show reading

Stripping healthcare, mining coal

pushing myths about the soul

damning those who don’t obey

denying women of their say

 Casting stones, suppressing votes

grab our country by the throat

locked into a MAGA craze

they pull us back to darker days

Drinking Kool-Aid from a cup

yelling up is down!

and down is up!

spinning lies and crafting fables

twist the truth to turn the tables

Deny the facts and praise the liar

collectively they all conspire

to set democracy on fire

Culty MAGA members sing

they bend their knee, they kiss the ring

deny they see a naked king

Dark Day Afternoon

Doomsday Clock https://thebulletin.org/doomsday-clock/

Doomsday just inched a bit closer

So says the clock on the wall

Amused, nihilistic humans   

just waiting for mankind to fall!

We know the problem’s we’re facing

We know what needs to be done

We know that the weapon is loaded

but we like the taste of the gun

We’re ninety seconds from doomsday

So says that guy on the news

“It’s the end of the world as we know it”

A theme song to give us the blues

Doomsday just inched a bit closer

it nuzzles up to the fear in our head

The tick of the clock getting louder

It thickens our fear into dread

Religious to the point of destruction

Tribal to our own self-defeat

Chained to a blood-violent nature

Man and doomsday were destined to meet

When Sorrow Clings to Angel Wings

She made it through the Spanish flu
a million others died
but slipped and fell with scissors held
Oh, how her parents cried

Rorschach’s plume, still in bloom
soaks through her dressing gown
she raps on heaven’s pearly gate
but no one is around

When sorrow clings to angel wings
They might-as-well be clipped
So back to earth
To haunt the house
Where she tripped and slipped

Immortal klutz with lots of cuts
dark shadows on the wall
she roams the house without a spouse
wrapped loosely in her shawl

An Ugly Lust for Power

Floating in his own orbit

absent from the ethos of ethics

he was driven by an ugly lust for power

fueled by an insatiable desire for attention

bootlicked and buttressed by a sycophantic public

and buoyed by yes men

The man was wholly unhinged from truth

divorced from morality

and devoid of integrity

Gripped by insecurity

and the crippling fear of being labeled a loser

he cultivated lies and deceit

Like a Shakespearean witch

hunched over a cauldron

of poisonous misinformation

he hatched his plan

to cling to the reins of power

just long enough to topple the republic

For a few hours that day

our democracy flickered and dimmed

teetering on the dark edge of an authoritarian abyss

and if not for the courage of a few

and the rationality of the rest

We’d have lost our democracy

and the hope and freedom it brings to us

It would be a fatal mistake to think

the bullet we dodged cannot be reloaded

The confederacy of cowards

who defended the snake

and helped perpetuate the crime

still walk the halls of congress

and just beneath the ashes

of the failed attempt

are the smoldering embers

of the next

Crackling Fires from Funeral Pyres

Digging holes with metal poles

Earth hanging by a string

ember coals and smokey souls

our hearts refuse to sing

Nostril flares and double dares

blood coursing through our veins

no one cares or fires flares

to save us from the flames

Rubber necks on splintered decks

missiles pierce the sky

the crackling fires from funeral pyres

sparkle in our eyes

Mascara streaks on dampened cheeks

as quiet fills the air

we crawl across a floor that creaks

to waken our despair

Stars explode and fade to black

the darkened sky above

stretches far from east to west

obscuring peace and love

Slip Knot Future Up Ahead

Mascara streaks

on expressionless faces

punk-metal fills the air

a swarm of pierced humanity

hits the mosh without a care

Rabbit holes of red-hot coals

their world spinning on a string

empty souls dance to Dave Grohl

life to them, a fling

Rubber necks on double decks

Russian missiles fill the skies

distant fires from funeral pyres

the flames flicker in their eyes

Tattered seams on crocheted dreams

slip knot future up ahead

poisoned streams and noiseless memes

They’ll dance until their dead

Fodder for Felons

Mar-a-Lago’s a henhouse

guarded by foxes

with top secret files

in taped cardboard boxes

Classified docs

spread all over the floor

fodder for felons

trying to even the score

Millions of lost souls

and Q-cultist bigots

they lap up the lies

from electronic spigots

Looking for purpose

while grasping at straws

praising their savior

despite all his flaws

Empty of knowledge

full of deep longing

Q fits the bill

and their need for belonging

Fingers raised up

they sing and they sway

“The storm is-a-coming”

and so’s judgement day

Engaged in a story

which casts them as heroes

too dumbstruck to know

that they’re dancing to Nero

drinking the Kool-Aid

they’re dope-sick on Q

freebasing lies

and shouting fuck you

There’s fear in not knowing

how this will end

how far Q is going

to strongly defend

the lies of a con man

unwilling to bend