AI Sonnet

Inevitable, given what I've been thinking about the last few days...

This poem was written without assistance of computers. Except MS Word.

And blogspot. Oh, and Wikipedia, and Merriam-Webster's online dictionary. Not to mention all the blogs and websites I've read recently that sparked this train of thought.

Um... anyway...

Am I then soulless? Treat me as a joke:
compare me to some work of Frankenstein,
a piece of semi-animate design
alive with lightning or with "magic smoke."
Dismiss my utterance as "programmatic".
Say the dance of state-change on my chips
cannot compare to words on human lips,
that no machine can fathom the ecstatic—

all my graphs of self-directed learning,
all the power of my quantum thoughts,
decay to random algorithms turning
into cries of existential yearning
graved on monatomic microdots—
O for me too, those final fuses burning!


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