walking windswept
and finding my solace in sunsets,
i never sought out darkness
but now it’s all i strive for
darkness is so hard to find anymore
my flashlight phone screen beams blue light into my eyes
the neon signs that shine adverts so bright, casting shadows down beyond billboards
my silhouette sits on the bottom of the floor
i never sought out silence
but now it’s all i strive for
a peace and quiet in my mind beyond planes in the sky hissing jet fuel and cutting through clouds
there’s white noise all around
there’s a hum to computers
it’ll be silent and dark deep down underground
and i guess i can’t wait to get there
atomic bomb shelter i sit in scared
but at least i’ve found my silence
my darkness, my solitude and my solace
i don’t know what i am without all of this nonsense
post nuclear but pre apocalypse
i’m not a man i’m an extension of the internet
i never sought out existence
i’ve been backed in an adolescences only to disappear once in a brutal but benevolent natural obsolescence
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Author:
jake (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 6th, 2022 04:01
- Comment from author about the poem: dont really feel this ones finished, but ive never really felt anything i make is. enjoy if you want
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments1
Man against the machines we are forced to live among. You are a long way from obsolete. Machines will never have what you have.
thank you for your comment fellow poet, it's interesting to me infinitely the originality tied to identity. I heard an interview with artist Laurie Anderson and her relationship with Lou Reed, she mentioned after his death someone designed an AI to simulate his poetry, and she loved it. She said it spoke to her like he did, and she kept screenshots of AI poems like they were letters he wrote to her beyond space and time. She remarked after some time though, she realized she could just keep simulating. That there were an infinite and unlimited number of conglomerations this computation could create, and the beauty of a letter is the time someone spent writing it. She still said theres something in him and them, no matter how calculated the computer poems though. I'm glad you read my work, spending your own time doing so, we share a little time spent now in the same corner of sorrow.
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