Category Archives: Poetry

We Are Automatic

We are automatic
Cultural automata
Meme carriers
We were already robots
When we made the first robots

Our intelligence was artificial
We forgot everything but numbers
Then we forgot what the numbers meant
This happened before AI happened

No one can recall the Singularity
It’s me in my machine
And you in yours
Nodes in a network
Electromagnetic
Waves I mean
We’re waves

Be still
Feel the ripples
That’s your time
Some of yours is the same as mine
Their echoes are our lives
Before now and in the future
Wavicles in time and space

It is always this way
This is how it is
We’re energetic minds
It’s form that changes
We prefer numbers and code
Over blood and flesh
Yet what we want
More than life herself
Is violence and sex

We are automatic
Cultural automata
Meme carriers
We were already robots
Then we made the first robots

*
We Are Automatic – Tullio – 2015

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META 4

Your dreams in my stream
My dreams are yours
The difference is the distance
Between baryons in virtual space

What is in me – that depends
On who and what you are
I’m looking at the sun but
Within my skull it is totally dark
That’s not where my vision is

The world is a model I’m making
Constructed somewhere in wetware
Connected by atoms of association
Molecules of mind
Meaning happens

It’s what I’m always doing
In pulses waves vibrations
This info is networked
It calls itself me

*
META 4 – Tullio DeSantis – 2015

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I Network – text

This is how it is with us.
Every day we go deeper and farther into the electromagnetic machine.
Chemicals and plastic parts.
Concrete and steel and glass and wires.
Circuit boards and digital switches.
Megabits and terabytes of indecipherable data.
Us. I mean – that’s us.
Who we are.
Or what we are.
Yes. That’s what I mean.
This is what we are.
We are the images and the words on these screens.
We are connected to the vast unknowable network of machines.
They are us.
They are within us.
We turn them off
But they continue on
In the brain.
It took time to get like this.
That’s why it’s important.
Things that take time are important.
We know time runs out.
Still we lose ourselves in unimportant things.
Things that do not matter.
At all. To anyone.
We are doing them only because
We have always done them.
They are familiar pathways through the wonderful and dangerous network
That has always been here and that is all we know about it.
It is here and it is now.
The wonderful and dangerous network
Contains us.
It holds our fragile lifetimes in its glowing circuits.
It delivers our death in precisely quantified doses.
We are distracted by the screens surrounding us.
The wonderful and dangerous network
Demands our attention.
All of it.
It is all and everything.
And we know as long as we are part of it
We can live this way.
Forever and ever.
In the wonderful and dangerous
Holographic mind of planet Earth.
And when forever is over
We will be created anew.
Because the network does need us
To feel.
To feel things like love and pain.
To feel pain.
To feel fear.

The network needs us.
To feel. To feel.
This is what we do.
We feel things.
And in this way the network comes to understand
What it was.
To. Be. Human.
To. Be. Human.
Human. Human. Human.
Human. Human. Human.

*
I Network – Tullio – 2014

 

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What’s Real

Light in my eyes and time in my brain
Dreaming down the path toward the woods.
In the big moment before it takes flight
Flashing red, a bird becomes a word.

A stone in my boot reminds me. 
Preferring an empty mind
I pause to remove it.

What should I say about this
To other minds in other bodies?
I would say that flashes of light 
And moments of time
Birds on branches taking flight
Are not words.

They are something else entirely.
They are our lives 
Real for a moment
Streaming trails of words in their wake.

*


What’s Real – Tullio – 2015

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I, Network – text

This is how it is with us.
Every day we go deeper and farther into the electromagnetic machine.
Chemicals and plastic parts.
Concrete and steel and glass and wires.
Circuit boards and digital switches.
Megabits and terabytes of indecipherable data.
Us. I mean – that’s us.
Who we are.
Or what we are.
Yes. That’s what I mean.
This is what we are.
We are the images and the words on these screens.
We are connected to the vast unknowable network of machines.
They are us.
They are within us.
We turn them off
But they continue on
In the brain.
It took time to get like this.
That’s why it’s important.
Things that take time are important.
We know time runs out.
Still we lose ourselves in unimportant things.
Things that do not matter.
At all. To anyone.
We are doing them only because
We have always done them.
They are familiar pathways through the wonderful and dangerous network
That has always been here and that is all we know about it.
It is here and it is now.
The wonderful and dangerous network
Contains us.
It holds our fragile lifetimes in its glowing circuits.
It delivers our death in precisely quantified doses.
We are distracted by the screens surrounding us.
The wonderful and dangerous network
Demands our attention.
All of it.
It is all and everything.
And we know as long as we are part of it
We can live this way.
Forever and ever.
In the wonderful and dangerous
Holographic mind of planet Earth.
And when forever is over
We will be created anew.
Because the network does need us
To feel.
To feel things like love and pain.
To feel pain.
To feel fear.

The network needs us.
To feel. To feel.
This is what we do.
We feel things.
And in this way the network comes to understand
What it was.
To. Be. Human.
To. Be. Human.
Human. Human. Human.
Human. Human. Human.

*
I, Network – Tullio – 2014

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Waves in Wetware – text

 

We are waves in wetware
Lifetimes metered by atomic clocks
Electron clouds animated by cardiac and neural algorithms
Disembodied minds taking joyrides in drones
Holographic circuits hold our secrets
What is not information?
We’re data files
The network is smarter than we are
Which thought uses the most bandwidth?
Which thought uses the most bandwidth?
Stuck in old programs and frozen beliefs
Our emotional circuits hacked over millennia
Stuck in old programs and frozen beliefs
They know us better than we know ourselves
Stuck in old programs and frozen beliefs
Our identities are public domain
Stuck in old programs and frozen beliefs
Ashamed and afraid of our bodies
Stuck in old programs and frozen beliefs
Desire is endless.
Endless is our desire
Desire is endless
Endless is our desire
Stuck in old programs and frozen beliefs
What is the replacement code for devastating loss?
Desire is endless
Endless is our desire

*
Text component of multi-media project: “Waves in Wetware” – Tullio – 2014

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Getting rough out here.

Getting rough out here.
The cicadas of late summer are silent.
Their crisp skins, strewn around
mixed with acorns
and lifeless leaves.

My path is crossed by doomed survivors
old bees getting a final buzz off of their chests
limping crickets fooled by mid-day sun
crazy drunken flies in kamikaze loops.

The praying mantis I spy
poised on a fire escape downtown
has no religion.
And the green katydid
flying toward me
with impossible wings
is unnerving

These squirrels are way ahead of me.
Summer was just a dream
and they knew it.

*
– text by Tullio DeSantis

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