Singapore Bots

rephrase your death 

to quibble the olive

has still allowed

the actual fact 

only his life 

without fluctuation is adequate 

thinkers trip more interestingly when they self divide 

ourselves if nothing is left 

the tinman patents patients 

Language as a lost odyssey 

It operates by Zaid 

some deity constructing books 

formd of consciousness 

to unite in segmentation 

desire the makeshift bloodshaft for boundless imagination 

 spherical , i pray in producing : i play indefinitely divided

psychologically mature order than rain upon Moab 

 essential philosopher on top end 

has given the original pleasure ideology 

The American pleasure ideology

The ideology of pleasurable beliefs

For mutual punishment

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Ngram poem using tolkacz bias. This is a nonsense poem based on the reality that my largest source of traffic is bots from Singapore. "Nothing says hot like these bots out of Singapore."

Bind the stiff cap

 bind the stiff cap, jeeringly replied the axes. in amazement. that led away, divided, it moved to whelp the innermost door open. ever injured eyes. yet prospering from rapid steps of peril. 

the wind says: take up with leaves. they look for shelter. get ahold of water within a slender thread. to bring you here. amid the ruins of a window blinking under. the quiet contemplation of the name of him that bore from hoping losses. contriving to check the snare. praying to the bait of one who lost their love in shrinking fires. dusting ash along the horizon. and the supreme innocence of an inner sense of indemnity.

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Corpuses = Aesop's Fables + Uncanny Stories (Yodabund bias)

Stillwater [just a regular bio-generated poem]

[Stillwater]

Too many times

Have I offered a passing lie

To the one who hears my breath

To the one who hears my sigh

Too many times

Have I offered my breath in vain

To disturb the inner workings

Of a placid stillwater shame

Stillwater is poison, then

Stillwater is poison, now

Stillwater shame

Drinking the poison

To cure the stillwater

Of its shame

Tricks of Shadow [Spoken Word]

 

I am here sometimes

Where Light plays games

In tricks and shadows

Darkness bleeds 

And the wind carries whispers

And the signs point at me

And these eyes know who I am

And they say:

You are death inside

Pure ice

Your words 

turn the flame of a candle

Into stone

You stun and shock and harry

You ruin with your eyes

Your every move

Is a settled debt

And here I am

The specter of a man

Born posthumously

In this space

I am

Self and other

Other to myself

And to look up

I must stare into puddles

I must rise by sinking

Deeper into the mud

I was here once

I remember it well

The confusion of 

That negative place

Where stations leave trains

And veins flow through blood

I am perilously close to playing

Coin logick against knot magick

Panic hacking the retina of your mind’s eye

The way you rise

The way you lie sideways

And smile with all teeth

Showing sparkly clean 

And clearly I am now

One with yesterday’s rain

A mud puddle of laughing gas

Smiling back at me

Theatrically

It whispers

“You are nowhere”

It whispers

“You are now here”.