Hey there Avidian
who do you think you are?
Some rara avis
eminently gifted?
a New Age prophet
with memory that learns
and yearns to grow?
Ovidian offspring
of eminent domain?
The yeuk to replicate, this
antsiness to clone— were they
preprogrammed hyper-neatly?
How did your being
and becoming
come to be?
Who gave you the right
to call yourself life?
What demiurge instilled
in your cerebral traits
an avid urge for more?
Endowed by your Creator
with neural networks
that open evolving paths
to rival what brain
I know as mind...
Characterized
as organisms
genetically coded,
to be or not to be
intelligent in form
and feature—
Though digital we
both you and I be
each in our own
artificial mannerisms—
reproducing
natural shape-shifting
permutations
procreating
mutant innovations
actuating
willful obsolescence
(ay may well
all come to pass
amen) —
Still
the thought of you
gives me the fantods.
(If you don't see what I mean,
get thee to a glossary.)
< August 2010 >
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the glossary slap in the face you gave those eminently gifted ovidian offsprings who had everything handed to them on a silver platter! They didn't even go to school! ...they give me the fantods also. You surprise me here, I love your witty way you wrote this and I was absolutely entertained with this. I will have to read this a few more times.
Oh my, I haven’t thought about this one for a long time. It is one of my odder ones… I did have fun with the wordplay and I’m pleased to know you were entertained by it. I appreciate your taking the time to read it and comment!