dust silence as earthen mountains pitied earth. he had no hands. and he was four feet away from
a military grade rape kit. then they languish with their mother's. personality disorder. remaining in secret. a fountain of fate. pours out of the entropy. souls within souls seek each others comfort. function. low peril habitations. her cheeks were flushed of color. each others rivers. lubricated in fabrications.
people sit in solitary remembrance of distress. their military grade musick can inclose captivity
as in a net grind chain children are becoming widows. military grade love for your people. is always strategic. our father's beauty is a dealt hand poured upon our ancestors. humbled stretched fatherless skin slain with bitterness into captivity.
men arise out of nations.
shed (they fled me) my hope turned aside (my city) that was drunken on the tears of its dwellers.
the soul
was poured out of the anger
that was the same 45 portions of sorrow
that were swallowed by the children
of the lamb
to which all of our favorite things
are sacrificed.
increased according to bone density
whose shapes are like
a divination.
a prophesy sewn in entrails
like the last thing that you ate
was your father.
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)
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