The greed that destroyed a race.

With the promise a new body and a new life, there were those
who believed and volunteered for the transfer; the soul in the new machine;
the delivering of a promise the old God could not keep.
Though many held out, they were eventually pushed to the edge
of the new society, hated for their faith in the old religions
and their ignorance of the new ways; fear of the very
program they'd created, and the machines they had made superior
to their own aging, flesh bodies. This brave new promise attracted many who sought
complete control over the A.I that had begun to grow in power and influence
over the common A.I.

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The respect of my sword was torn to dust,
The blood of mine turned to rust...
The crown of mine lost all its diamonds and its pearls,
All that was left for me to was to see my wisdom turn...

Polishing myself with the beauty of trust,
The leaves of faith are broken with the feeling of lust...
Tired of pieces of loyalty in the world,
Blessed was me with the royal blood...

Countries conquered and empires demolished,
Days and nights and seasons were promised...
The caves were turned to throne,
And the diamond was turned to stone...

People were killed,
Graves were drilled...
Kingdom of mine was shedded with a flood,
Flood of that royal blood...

The blood of mine was the royal blood...
Toughest to win was that royal blood...
Heavens salute to that royal blood...
Proud to have that royal blood...

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Pride is Damaging

My Personal Faves

sensation of better
better than you
than me yesterday
than he thought i could be
than my sister
because I'm skinny
or smart
because i answer phones after 1 ring
or have red and blond highlights

disgust at my need for success
for approval
who am I but a slave?
who am I but all of your slaves?

I live to serve you
to make you see
that i am worth something
worth your love
your attention
your time
and your sex

i am proud
of my desirability
of his inability to withhold

not proud of my youthful ignorance

of being 'free' or 'romantic' or 'spontaneous'

i live on a stick
a Popsicle shit stick
or puppet string
made to dance and sing by so-called friends
whose opinions
run me
run me into the ground
the tunnels
the rooms
the cubicles
the dreams
the dreams of

not me
except for the accomplishments
which i fight so hard for
poor pity-seeking puppy
begging for love

Author's Notes/Comments: 

New at this.. would love to get feedback or discuss life and politics and philosophy and human nature. Hope this poem doesn't make me seem too shallow. Just a mood..

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