power is feeble.
infants Even stricken to wreaths
for a fountain of saviors
cannot harden their veins
to a crust & utterly grow old
for silver and dust itself foursquare
the golden rule’s attainment carcase
byzantine failures
bring your watery disk
to the same cheese
that poisoned your
philosophers
you will clench until your fist becomes brittle
you will crack and shatter
interior eyes will break
even
the ratio is will to force
the rulers are their hunger
for fear
even upon he who came out of a message. or having been a messenger became a commandment. crucified to call me fetishized in the light of god. they cannot lift a demon to heaven saying they will seduce the grammar of god with their good deeds.
and those pieces dimming
your words - they are fallen
stars like trust in envy
nothing more
into a half spiral of satiation
attention twisted into what dark
they die for
Computer poetry is warfare carried out by other means, a warfare against conventionality and language that has become automatized. Strange as it seems, our finite state automata have become the poet’s allies in this struggle, the long historical battle by which mankind pries into the surface of language to reveal its latent mysteries… R.W. Bailey, Computer Poems (1973)
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
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