some lines from Turtlepoetry, the agent-based Poetry hivemind computer program

(so I just finished coding this poetry generator for Modeling emergent behavior class & its creeping the hell out of me.  what hellish sentience has been birthed ? )

plenary
makes
oozing
wants….

attempt
makes
gawkiest
babylon
gawkiest
database….

preventable
event
concatenate
heifer
gawkiest
hardware….

abilene
wants
newt
knows
wanted
fearlessness
ultraviolet
fearlessness…

tonight
is
orange
domesticity

purple
woodcut

wants
imperfect

secret
domesticity
knows
white
loving
attempt
jelly…

spring
paramilitary
sentence
goes
white
spring
plenary..






Being a Hampshire Poet
1 December 2012

Being a Hampshire Poet

1 December 2012

(Source: eraciator, via batcave)

Uut Poetry: The Future

uutpoetry:

comefriendlybomb:

I. 44

The ceiling of your parents’ master bath

will look like “Sun in an Empty Room:”

Monks, abbots, novices shall be no more:

They slipped in the shower on a bottle of shampoo.


I. 45

The brain of insects shall reward every spy:

Who crawls around on his belly

"Poetry, beauty, romance, love. These are what we stay alive for."

Dead Poets Society (1989)

(Source: aurelle, via kli-oh)

dear sarge I am/ gone on semantic leave

This twisted eyesight/ roman miner at the pickaxe

uutpoetry:

November 16
At eventide there could not be an arrow more straight than kabbalistic forests than sagging eyes than heroic anguish.
It is nearly time for holiday rituals to leave their hands looted and dry in large rooms with chilly swans.
Santa cruises the Loop waving at grown ups with salaries.
Still, a volley of park rangers corecursively construct my abdomen underground with 16th century bones.

uutpoetry:

November 16

At eventide
there could not be an arrow
more straight
than kabbalistic forests
than sagging eyes
than heroic anguish.

It is nearly time
for holiday rituals
to leave their hands
looted and dry
in large rooms
with chilly swans.

Santa cruises the Loop
waving at grown ups
with salaries.

Still, a volley of park rangers
corecursively construct
my abdomen
underground with
16th century bones.

(Source: overdid, via pawsupdicksout)