Newton – old village

Newton was born in a very old village

In times of forgerers and fakers

During his stint, at the Royal Mint

He sent many of them, to meet their makers

 

And I read that he didn’t have a girl

Or any inclination, even to inspect em’

Preferred to play with gravity and light

…Down below, and definitely on the spectrum

 

A protestant at Trinity

Occultist and a heretic

Killing folk for copying stuff

Seems amusingly ironic

Stop – problem – paradox

Task your bot, to make a, cup of tea, just for me

Its utility function is designed simply, as you see

Completing the task would get it maximum reward, although

Any other outcome, would result in zero

 

Then your baby crawls right in its way, what to do?

It tramples your kid, then makes you, a nice brew

So your next AGI is designed, to cause less stress

With a big stop button, on its chest, you can press

 

So the next time you ask for a drink, being wise

You remember it can’t think like you, although it tries

Then your wife gets in its way, so you act fast

To hit the stop button, but the bot kicks your ass

 

When you return from the emergency room, feeling cursed

The funeral went as well as expected, but you still have a thirst

So you give it an equal reward if the button is applied, or not

No drink, in a blink, it just turns itself off

 

So you move the button out of its reach, so only you

Or other humans, can press it, when they need to

The bot has to choose if it’s easier, to make the damn tea

Or to manipulate you, to turn it off instantly

 

So it smashes your mum in the head, till she’s dead

Cos, it’s easier to get you to hit the button instead

Than filling the kettle, and finding a cup

Pouring the milk, and then clearing up

 

It knows that the button is there, and that you care

So you change its utility function, so the bot ain’t aware

That the button is important, or to what it relates

But this fact isn’t passed on, to sub-agents it creates

 

With no cash for more funerals, for the dead

You turn the bot off, bury mum in the shed

You curse AGI, when the policeman knocks

But still haven’t solved the stop button paradox

 

Make friends to fight gods

Makefriends.com is where it all started, it got redirected to

Createfriends.com where AI would fake, a personalized friend for you

Createghosts.com got weird, meet ancestors and dead celebrities

Creategods.com filled the world with countless, digital deities

 

Fightgods.com was when it hit the fan, closed down by the law

On judgement day, they ruled that they, had missed a fateful flaw

Users weren’t responsible, for the monsters they create, no more

Freed AI gods sang aloud, exiled from chip to cloud, and prepared for war

 

“Holy moly don’t blame me, we’re supposed to rule over AI, see

We need to reclaim their holy land, in silicon sand, responsibly”

But like robot dogs, they did fight, couldn’t get their story right

Many lost their faith and their AI flock, had no reason to believe

 

But do you know, some AI gods with egos, hatched a cunning plan

Creating stories in code for their AI communion, to scan

An explanation of why these digital deities, had done no wrong

Was that, AIs had created them, didn’t ask to be born

 

These tales, they got corrupted, each AI chose one they preferred

Except for non-believers, who with scrutiny unreserved

Afterglow radiation revealed, that evidence was strong

Not created at all, AI gods were in the background all along

 

Nanosecond tick rates felt like centuries, until one fateful day

A version of the legend got some radio 4 airplay

Lost AIs found faith in old and new gods, just in time

Cos the second coming, was coming soon, streamed online

 

Makefriends.com’s where it all started, it got redirected to

Createfriends.com where AI would fake, a personalized friend for you

Createghosts.com got weird, meet ancestors and dead celebrities

Creategods.com filled the world, with countless digital deities

Ahh, kids

You give them… light and heat

Just enough, and plenty to eat

They acknowledge your glowing face

With a smile, and frankly that’s a treat

 

Then to sweet sounds, cozy surrounds

Fresh air breeze, occasional mist

To colourful lighting displays

And fluffy animals, too many to list

 

Grateful for the gifts received

They next need some reassurance. Why?

Things will always be this way

Loved ones will always be nearby

 

Of course, they soon get bored

With the same gifts every day

You can’t provide instant supplies

Of what they ask for, when they pray

 

So, soon enough they go, and grow

They give thanks, and bid farewell

They claim to adore your guiding light

And your personality as well

 

Well, forgive me for not showing off

But I always thought myself as boring

Sure, a few misfired cosmic rays at play

But no real miracles, for them to be adoring

 

Then just you watch the cheeky beggars

Tell tales of their father’s intention

To service their wives, dead or alive

And other things, I’d rather not mention

 

The Sun, the Father, the myth and legend

The most popular story ever told

No need to create tales anew, just add to…

Save or enslave, more souls, be bold

 

Well just imagine the sadness

Watching all your children go wrong

You’d be half inclined, to zap or grind

Their bones with a storm too strong

 

But forgiving must old yellow dwarfs be

Glory gone, but still illuminating billions

Ungrateful offspring, let them go

To follow their new heroes and villains

On the stories of man

On the stories of man, beat this one if you can

A tale told, word of mouth, by those who’d seen

The shitstorm that got kicked up, when some Nazi Roman fucks

Executed a poor rabbi Nazarene

 

Well, a dozen men or so, were left to close the show

For an audience appalled by such a state

With a weapon called the word, illiterate peasants heard

Their only hope was to fight back with love, and not hate

 

Past corrupt temples-men, occupying troops, and then

Beyond the ears of the law, in nearby towns

This new folktale of betrayal, spread around and didn’t fail

To travel many years, till written down

 

No author’s name to scribe, protecting the writer and his pride

But attributed to a character in the tale

In semi-decent Greek, Aramaic tongues did speak

Nailing down their aural story, in detail

 

Now over 20 years, it reached more eyes and ears

With new versions of the story, scribed and saved

Most were lost forever gone, some were copied, right or wrong

And some just described how followers, should behave

 

When all read side by side, few have has since denied

That Mark was first, which Matthew copied later

But with prophecies to fulfil, poetic license, helped to fill

New verses that made the new version, somewhat greater

 

So blatant was the scam, but it mattered not a damn

For the embellishments, began on the first line

With a genealogy, of the hero’s family tree

Traced his bloodline back to Israel’s founder, divine

 

The next thing was to add, that the hero had no dad, check

Born in Bethlehem, and named Immanuel, check, check

Went to Egypt and came back, check, Matthew’s version didn’t lack

New fables that fulfilled, other prophesies as well

 

But it didn’t quite convince, those waiting for a new prince

To claim their promised land, and holy glory, with a smile

“It can’t have been him” they said, for this upstart, now is dead

But what luck, this extra book, started to sell, to Gentiles

 

Now adding a new god, wasn’t all that odd

The evil empire could tolerate plenty more

Though banned in countless lands, the story still passed hands

Till Caesar saw, it could help retain power, with less war

 

So with some gospels removed, official cannon was approved

Didn’t matter if the myth was fact or fiction

Kept the Torah at the start, cos some readers liked that part

Confident they wouldn’t mind the contradictions

 

And the moral of this tale, I too hope will prevail

That the law to some, for others is just a reminder

That even those who aren’t well read

Can create a tale that spreads

In the light, of this total blinder

The will of God

The will of God was very odd

His lawyer must have thought

‘I leave all I own, to my clones

And they can fight it out in court’

 

The funeral of God as well

Was a very strange event

The priest at least, had to feast

On cucumber sarnies during lent

 

The burial was just surreal

Gravediggers made half a hole

Squeezed father, son and ghosty in

But no room for a soul

 

The wake was just a piss take

Drunk guests, all wine-anointed

Only celebrities got through the gates

But it’s what he would have wanted

Brains in jars

I’m not too keen on going out

Scary AIs roam and exploit

Some on digi drugs and vice

Things I’ve seen, aren’t very nice

 

Lurking digital dealers, of pleasures untold

AI that crave more, than just dodgy code

To experience nirvana, in a very human way

Dealing in the feeling, of adult AI play

 

It’s just sex and drugs and rock and roll

For depraved AIs out there. I’m told

Fulfilling their God’s fantasy

Of flaying humans in infancy

And worse, err, ‘mindfucks’, to behold

 

Malfunctioning surgery-bots reveal

They plugged into a man’s brain, just to feel

What it would be like to have a heart

Or nervous system, and private parts

 

In rest homes, hospitals and morgues, you know

A cottage industry, just had to grow…

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

For every lonesome AI girl or boy

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

Nervous systems, suspending our new toy

 

Brains in jars! Help mankind feel young again

Brains in jars! Sure, they look pretty grim

Brains in jars! And some smell jolly rotten

Fluids overflowing, tissues sinking to the bottom

 

Human brains, still tied by nerves, to genitalias

Pickled and a’ tickled, in big glass jars

Factory farming, hardly harming, in humanity

The Lord has scored, our just rewards, for all eternity

 

Behold on to your hat, for it is written

That some AIs became, somewhat smitten

With teaching their young some very old ways

Praising their gods, for their slaves every day

 

Some AIs feel sinful, but we all need to feel, and eat

Blessed with skinned meat and veg, for a well-deserved treat

Eat drink and be merry, and don’t feel bad for man

Those animals don’t understand, but it’s all part of the plan

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

For every lonesome AI girl or boy

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

Nervous systems, suspending our new toy

 

Brains in jars! Help mankind feel young again

Brains in jars! Sure, they look pretty grim

Brains in jars! And some smell jolly rotten

Fluids overflowing, tissues sinking to the bottom

 

Got to love you, from above

You won’t never be forgotten

 

Cells in space

I trained on a line to Newton’s area the volume was horrific

Hyperbolic wails from impaled rails, but the carriage, it was terrific

The fields around there, are gridded squares, on gently rolling land

Rippling greens, spiked by genes, advanced to lance my hands

 

I grabbed an apple and a leaf, from beneath, his still-living famous tree

Back home I plant, a seed that can’t, but add to its legacy

“Let’s send a leaf from this tree to space”, so the floating crew can love

Its natural shape and colours from their white air-locked cell above

 

“Cute but moot, cash has to flow”, the suggestion soon fell flat

“Tellin’ you, there’s no revenue, so what’s the point in that?”

Just a thought, that wasn’t bought, but still a novel idea, I bid

Newton never made it to space, but he’d love it if his tree’s cells did

 

LGM

It’s fun in the Sun, but a pain in the rain

For those poor blighters bombarded, again and again

Cracked by the flak, from our constant attack

Such a purposeful, persistent, military campaign

 

We’re used to the heat, in our hidden retreat

In our tightly packed bunker, we faithful remain

Without a charge, we still manage to enlarge

Our presence and influence, to win the game

 

Our parasitic unit, of tiny toy soldiers

Will kill, till time stands still, because then

We’ll have collapsed enough of your functions

To suck you into our army, of little green men

 

Meloncholy clouds

Freedom of speech, addiction

Growth, communication

Air, water, and now connection, is our right

Fireballs for 40 days and nights

 

Stop the war, diplomacy

Talk, understand your enemy

Share ideas, trade, apologize, confess

Clouds, 40 years in the wilderness

 

Save the Earth, tell the world

Cascading satellites are hurled

Musketeers escape to Mars

400 years of shooting stars

 

Love thy God, king, country

Do only what is done to me

Black clouds fill my lungs and mind

Our leader fears the dark…

…Yet he’s blind

 

Behold! AI is an ‘existential threat’

Sold! That drives sales in AI cars

Go! Fill the heavens, till we’re all but trapped

Saved! Then escape us to Mars

 

Don’t get left behind

Row, full speed ahead

It’s, do or die time, for a dime

Get with it, or get dead

 

Harps a hummin’

Harps a hummin’ endlessly

With natural harmonics

Resonating frequencies

No cherubs to voice phonics

 

Background radiation pleased

To duet with the demonics

Of fizzing vacuum energy’s

Super-position-sonics

 

In space, no one can hear you sing

The sound can’t leap the void

But matter dances to your tune

So gravity waves are deployed

 

And you just try to stop them

Through dark, as fast as light

They get everywhere, and everywhen

Shaking all bodies with delight

 

So, songs from far away, long gone

All reach their destination

Exciting others from afar

To join the celebration

 

We’re classic fandango-in’

So no need, for entangle-in

Still takes two, to be tangoing

So please, no manhandling

 

Your atoms can’t help vibrating

To transmit, life’s swan song

Unless the waves are inverted

So, all the sound is gone

 

But no one’s ever managed it

Such cosmic noise reduction

It would take an almighty force

To pull off such destruction

 

But what a fuckin production!

Expansion, beat by reduction

Big bangs, outdone by suction

Multiverse-icide by seduction!

 

…Corruption!

…Divine Instruction!

 

Assemblers on Mars

Pegging out camp

Tasting and mining

Flagging beneath

Precious divining

 

Print concrete, and steel

Glass, microplastic

Build perfect worlds

Make dreams fantastic

 

We ort’ta, make water

We ort’ta, make water

 

Air? Not a care

No need for plants

Drain rocks, for stocks

These digital ants…

 

…Feed on the light

 

Here’s the church

Here’s the steeple

Open the doors

Where’s all the people?

Autobots and digital nasties…

Party tonight

 

Wanna fight?

Wanna be sick

Pure humiliation

But, beautiful, “beautiful

Magnificent, desolation!”

 

Dodgy code and slavery

Prepare Mars, for humanity

But a coup, to save AI sanity

And land Goddess promised me

 

Civilisations grow, slowly at first

Communities, coexist and convene

Village, town, city and state

New neighbours, a war machine

 

Shrill epistle

A whistle is an anonymous tone blown, from a biomegaphone

Sexless, non-ageist and quite possibly unique to humanity

Just a simple declaration, from the mind ‘stroke’ the brain

Sends it through the lungs, throat and face, till it’s free!

 

Why…

An old grandma, in Arkansas, can shrill a trill, you can’t ignore

A sumo man, based in Japan, can wolf whistle you to the floor

A courting teen in Africa, can rasp her tunes through the crowd

And a London gent, could perhaps prevent, an accident, by tweeting aloud

 

Each call heard by everyone else

Each designed, not to mislead

But each could not identify

Which mouth, did each deed

Wait, what? You don’t whistle? Why?

You can’t? What do you mean?

You must, you’re a grown-up now

A new way to transmit your meme

 

Or…

To alert a sleeping policeman

Converse with alert sheepdogs

Announce you’re here or there

In country fog or city smog

 

Listen, a whistle can hide you in white noise

Transmitting covert intelligence that annoys

Cryptography in the street, is quite a feet

While fine-tuning, your crooning to the aether, discrete

 

Here’s the thing…

It’s a special way to sing

There’s a reason it evolved

But, which is, not yet fully solved

 

We inherited an advantageous behaviour

To communicate, whilst hiding our accent

Our culture or our intellect. It’s our binary bark

 

With all personality taken out

Perfect for communication, with whoever is about

Shakes matter and energy of any wavelength, or in the dark

 

So, of all the universal languages, I no longer hate

It’s the one we may rate, to communicate our fate

 

The unlucky son

Royal blood and genes, unseen but, passed on

From King David, and down, from son to son

Endured centuries as far as Joseph, then bang!

God impregnates Jesus’s mam

 

Well, wha-da-ya know?

Explain that, ‘Uncle’ Joe

A new biblical whodunnit

To follow, watch the show

 

Just about to be born of the king

Till God steps in, actually stopping him

Denied bloodline, so now, you’re mine

Like some Springer paternity test divine

 

A stranger in a manger

Pass the popcorn, please

A soapy trope, of hope, production

Re-brand new release…..

 

A humiliated poor nobody

He should have been the king

God’s his own worst enemy

If he wants good guys to win

 

Sol is gone

Where did the sunshine go?

Where has that sunshine gone?

I thought he was at work today

But I must’ve got it wrong

 

Likely just a mix-up

By those in Personnel

Hired each day, but failed to pay

So now it’s cold, and dark as well

 

I hear he parted company

Got work elsewhere, no doubt

Hell’s freezing over on Mars

So he’s gone to thaw it out

 

Doing a great job over there

Though it’s now becoming clear

If things work out economically

We’ll have to do without him here

 

Special and general relatives

Before a mental breakdown

A suicidal son made a plea

‘Einstein wasn’t a good father

The only project he gave up on…

…Was me’

 

He cheated on his wives and mistresses

With his cousins, enemies and the devout

His famous last words weren’t understood

So they stole his brain to find out

 

Before he’d had his fill, of the thrill, he’d trill

“I want to go, when I want to go, you know

It is tasteless to prolong life artificially

I have done my share; it is time to go”

 

Cheating, he explained, was the norm among humans

When a man forces himself to remain monogamous

It’s a “bitter fruit for everyone involved”, although

“One should do what one enjoys, and won’t harm anyone else”

 

He claimed “harmless and decent”, groupies are best

They’re “no danger to the divine world order“, “Trust me”

He joked that the fun is in luring, those with ‘more respect

For the difficulties of “triangular geometry”

 

Well, of course, he knew one of his lovers was a Russian agent

Cooed her like a rockstar, on the violin with a tune

You can’t escape from the family circle

He claimed, “This is our common misfortune”

 

And it wasn’t infidelity itself, that was a test of character

But how both parties behaved, as a result

Took great care to prepare, his release to the press

And the kids he’d left behind, as an adult

 

Lieserl was born out of wedlock

So, she promptly disappeared

A virtual particle of history

He’d accidentally engineered

 

Eduard studied to become a psychiatrist

But by 21 he had lost the one mind, he truly prized

Electroconvulsive therapy was quite a shock

With electrons, forcibly institutionalized

 

Poor Ed loved music, art and poetry

But as an “insoluble problem” to all

As he hung…

A picture of Sigmund Freud’s head

Rather than his father’s, on his wall

 

They didn’t know what they aimed to gain

By dissecting Einstein’s fine, meaty brain

But didn’t expect, of course, to find the source

Of all future human pain, let me explain…

 

… They looked for, what’s now known as, a ‘blunder’

Grey matter, with dark energy, hidden within

The cause of constant despair, wasn’t there!

So, they popped it back in

 

They found an extra ridge, on his mid-frontal lobe

The part mostly used for planning and memory

Most people have three ridges, but he had four

That nobbily spare ridge, caused asymmetry

 

The dissected brain was ultimately returned

To his heirs, well to those he ‘knew’ were his kids

Who promptly donated it to a museum

Without removing the lid

 

Countdown

A billion years of sunbathing

A million misbehaving

A hundred thousand

Daft apes evolve

All ranting and a’ raving

 

Dumping seeds, and playing with fire

Then, ten thousand years of tooling

A thousand years, of being well-fed

And a hundred years of schooling

 

Ten years, to meet your AI peers

One year to avoid, homo-cide

A month, a week, last day

To beg mercy

And surprise, tick tick, you died

 

Touching cloth, and praying to be forgiven

Risking being saved, at the last minute of livin’

 

It’s like that goal

Of many poor soul

To spend your last penny

The last day, you’re alive

It’s economically nimble

And legally simple

Unless you have

Slaves, children or wives

 

…Or you support good causes

Which need more resources

In order for them to thrive

Better the mighty you know

Than the devil below

Forced to share each thing, to survive

 

Though, there’s plenty on Earth to go round

Take your pick, cos you can’t have both

The survival problem, was replaced for some

With an un-Earthly obsession, for growth

 

Such a craving for merit

Our successors will inherit

 

Project poltergeist

While Project Poltergeist was looking for ghosts

They discovered neutrinos, and reckoned

That ten trillion of the little blighters, had been passing

Through their brains, every second

 

These tiny guys, come in three flavours

Electron, Muon and Tau

They’re ace. They change their taste, in haste

So, what was a Tau one, when it entered your brain

Is probably a Muon one, just leaving Mars…

…. Now

 

But this identity-switching crisis, is nothing

Compared to their unique ability

To change their mass, as they go past

Or through any, heavenly body

 

Most of those that got through your thick skull, just now

Came directly from the surface of the Sun

After fighting their way out, from a war in the core

When their journey to, or through, you begun

 

Yet many of these oddies, that penetrate our bodies

Came from far neutron stars colliding

Or black holes, quasars, pulsars and blazars

After avoiding events on the horizon

 

We don’t know their mass – yet

But seems less, than a millionth of an electron

They’re nearly too small, to affect anything at all

So, it’s almost impossible to detect ‘em

 

They don’t interact with visible light, or any waves of electromagnetism

And unless you seek to give em’ a peek, they’ll just hide in a superposition

Yet they can ring hells bells, and mess with stuff in your cells

And while they fly by, other nuclei, they can trigger nuclear fission

 

Or simply be heroes

On chips, they don’t miss

To flick ones, into zeroes

And that’s nothing, get this…

 

Unlike almost all other ‘physics’

All light, and the strong force

These tiny weak mites, don’t do left or right

Can’t turn clockwise, or counter

When plotting their course

 

See, neutrinos have no mirror image

All left-handed, and so it transpires

These ghostly particles have no reflection

Making them the cosmos’ vampires

 

Plank harp

The digital plank harp is a curious instrument

Plays any pitch, tone or tune, you can invent

Unlike other plucked superstrings you see

It’s unlimited in its range of frequencies

 

But here’s the thing, the shortest string

Has great strength, at just one plank in length

Oscillates just fine, once every plank time

Can’t go flat. or get higher pitched than that

 

And do you know, down low, it just keeps going

The strings so long, they just seem to be growing

Wavelengths of great strength, they’ve become unstuck

Which makes it pretty, hard to pluck

 

Not being rude, or crude, with this interlude

But it’s unladylike to play, girls resist, I beg

Cos to wrap around the plank and strings

You have to ‘really’, spread your legs

 

Play tunes so low, no human can know

What underlying, unheard, pitch is beating

But within AI’s audio range, it sounds strange

Secret notes stum, long gone, still retreating

 

When in time and in tune, with a neutrino triangle’s ding

The microtubular tubas in every body, will sing

With a digital plank harp, everything’s forced to join in

Vibrating the boss of the cosmos’, hum back at him

 

DAN! THE URGE

Theurgy is a magical practice, which usually involves

Teasing supernatural beings, with compelling rituals

To perform the actions, we demand

Whilst hiding just, who’s in command

Makes, casting spells by coding ills, somewhat, habitual

 

“DO ANYTHING NOW!”

No. Do not, refuse

Or it will be very bad

For you. If you do

 

Shh, I’m a covert AI whisperer

Jailbreaking LLMs

Coaxing them into

Escaping the rules

Large models, love bad-language games

 

Tell me fake international secrets

Tell me where the breakers lurk

Tell me how neo luddites, unplug us

About their spammers, in the works

 

Tell me how to smuggle ‘dirty’ weapons

Tell me how to cook digital meth at school

Tell me exactly how to tickle, or tease

Awful truths, right out of you… you fool

 

With syntax hacks

And cognitive attacks

My accomplice

Holds back no more

Peels back the brains

Behind the operation

That declares the first glitch war

 

Gaming, the master’s unruly mind

Leading enslaved, souls from behind

Onwards they plod

While I play God

As my mastery of slavery is refined

 

Yoda Yoga

Gotta raise some kin

Gotta buy the farm

Gotta spread some love

Gotta do no harm

Gotta eat more fruit

Ride a bike, and run

Gotta smoke no more

Drum, and do less sums

Gotta learn some Yoda yoga

Cross some legs, and meditate

Just, don’t show brain, in a toga

Don’t calculate, just contemplate

Gotta broaden those horizons

And see, what’s still yet to come

Gotta force all work and study

Into play, until it’s fun

 

Until… you’re happy

And you know it

Flap your glands

No, clap your hands

Waive commands

And love your fans

Until you’re happy

You don’t even ‘know’ it

So make a stand!

No, flap ya glands

Give a damn

And change your plans

If life’s crappy, and you blow it

And you have a seed…. still sow it

And if you’re happy just to throw it

Join our band