Thank you. I distrust AI: Thank you. I distrust AI technology, and I fear it, and in this poem I wanted to give it a kind of slap in the face. Thanks for the comment.
Some of your best poems have: Some of your best poems have been science fiction, so it would be a tragedy to abandon that desire and never give birth to such intriguing and deep meditations on existence such as this.
In the midst of a sterile shadow of Earth where life is now a concept to be decoded by artificial intelligence, some expansive questions arise, especially in the mind of a newly minted intelligence with the gift of sentience. You unfurl a fascinating backstory with stunning compression and ease, but the story, though amazing, isn't the magnificence; it's those questions you wisely allow the reader to untangle.
Though philosophers and poets believe they can figure it out, perhaps humanity doesn't understand itself any better than the "layers of chips" reducing the great mystery to "bytes of formulae".
A brilliantly composed contemplation.
Master Poet: Through the State of Michigan Arts Council in a Master and Apprentice program, I introduced a poet to the world and published her book. She was an artist and did artwork for my book that I sold at the Detroit Institute of Arts for my reading there. Old days but fun. I wrote and produced a play I wrote at church to an sro crowd, I had a play produced for the Detroit Arts Employment Program. I worked (volunteered) at Broadside Press, oldest exclusively black poetry press in the country. I earned it - the book parties, the readings, the teaching for the State of Michigan Creative Writers In Schools Program. Also adjudicated the writers for that program. Published poetry travels, I periodically send poems to local community newspapers. You do a lot of that too, that makes you a Master Poet. Live with it!
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Yours In Writing
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Lady A
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ps plus you got over 2400 pieces on PostPoems really good ones, I am behind reading sooooo many. Promse to catch up!
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Bcause: They think it is the Mt. Vesuvius culture where patriarchy rules. We have choices where Mr. Perfect is available and not a liar. The female in this poem broke her own heart. He's iut there, not perfect, but free and worthy and loyal.
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Lady A
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"..the world spares us nothing.": .
Truth learned by running into the its of events blindsided by purity and civilization's gifts. Daughters are up to the challenges as they grow out of you. You get relegated to a useful stair as she opens up her own can of choices.
Stardom has a staircase of prices. Just pay up, step in, arms and armor primed and perfect. Time dents but the pain shows up later, after all the joy and hormonal jubilations. Remind her occasionally she has roots and "home (paraphrased) is where when you come they have to take you in." (Lois McMaster Bujold).
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Best wishes to you and happy trails to her.
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Lady A
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Absence Of Futility: Futility on the 100 mile marker
heaven concepts activate
at the crossover, another
milestone.
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Inexplicability as companion
until a meaning seeps in
and a brittle smile caused
by a perpetual sense of time,
the ultimate captor.
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Lady A
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One of the most exquisite: One of the most exquisite tributes I've ever read; as sublime as it is moving, which made me look up this amazing person who could "lift any joke", and you were right. His wit is almost otherworldly. I'll certainly read more of him. Now there's more laughter in Heaven.
"Your imagination is pure and: "Your imagination is pure and wild."
Your skill for articulating the absurdities of the human experience is mystifying. Spry and deceptively simple, your precise hits kept me thinking: "Yes! It's like that."
A tone of defiance and fury sweeps through each artistic line, and I can connect, completely, with that "sound signature" that can only make us "wonder about what happens."
Excellence in expression.