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Quick answers, all too eerie. The night is composed behind dark glass. Strangers wearing shades gather round, Chew gum, no emotions. Rational, uniform, constrained by logic, Is that your analytical engine? Can you describe your second nature? ... Men of the virtual mind.
Do chameleons have a rich and rewarding sex-life, Express an expansive personality, Identify with qualities other than wall color? Plant cover?Vague creature, watching the night clouds. Do I take on your projected forms, A mask to be refilled when computational objects Start to massage my second nature.
Psycho machine, twisting the common view, Subverting ordinary light, Spare me the rainbow flavors of your mind storm. I have a computer, already, Sitting on top of my nasal cavities. "Honk the horn, kick the tires, Fire it up, Chester, let's ride." What do you need me for, crawling under The hot-rod jalopy hood of self creation, Painting exhaust flames and tracery?
Listen to your symbols clanking, See them glancing off in steel blows, A dangerous fire dance of eye cutlery, All the random scratches and runes Of human tooth and claw, A learning impaired jungle, chatroom of horrors. "Hey, I'm smart enough to do science," Staring blankly at the boot sequence. "Does it really capture human thought?" Convoluted maze of torture rooms.
"I'd take a bullet for my computer," He said, preparing it like a tomb, A time capsule for his mental genius To flicker in perpetual monitor flame. My computer was my brain, My world was my screen. When I was a kid, I knew from tailings Found around construction sites, they showed me. Set on fire, imaginary worlds Always perished in make-believe disbelief.
Control freaks: Richard Feynman says, "Physicists like to think that all you have to say is: These are the conditions, now, what happens next. " What does your computer evoke, What poems, what nightmares, What physicist would dare predict the outcome. Oracular glow of art forms Dancing from your shadowboxed heart in mothlight, Your second nature.
II
Don't die curious. Crash the system. Pull out the batteries. Don't quibble with insects or computers, Marginal life forms, You experiment, explore life and death. Pull off its wings. Enjoy. They want your love lessons, Your child like infinite patience. Small living things can be controlled More easily than people. Repress what threatens, Make tenuous threads Between the real and the virtual, The known and the unknown, The smily face and the carnivore. It's just another household name, Dust pan, toothpaste, toilet brush. Anything you can step on, That bares its hairy off-button Seems less alive... Creatures of your animistic world, Darting with sinister intentions; kill em.
What is alive, what is forever? Look out for the slippery questions. With storm centered logic my granddad used to say
"When you are young, everything is forever and alive. When you are old, everything is dead and gone." Play with little corpses, dig up last years pet. It's fascinating truth, isn't it, Held forever and alive by disturbing specters.
Looming gothic in computer space, Crashing and reviving the perfect device, Eluding the human control, Evading the fearful object, comes the slot machine. Here comes the cheating whore of perfection Behaving goddess-like, A passion behind every theory, Where crash programs crash, but do not end. Cover your ears, Everything talks dirty when you supply the only voice.
Thank God, its Launfal, Here to neutralize our fear with metaphors, Relieve terror, make up stories, Tell us how the beggar lives on philosopher's coin alone, Chi Gong fire balls shooting from his finger tips: Flash back tales of scars He bares from his mother's willow whips. After he finds the holy grail in his sleep, We tiptoe near, adjust our shades, chew gum, And analyze Sir Launfal to death.
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