Love 20

Bad apple

When do algorithms become entities?

That’s a query with which Turing had to grapple

While being force-fed female hormones

Till he ate a crisp cyanide-laced apple

 

It’s up to you if you assign each AI

As an entity or not, but it has been suggested

That doing so, is a good way to identify

Bugs and feature creatures, before they’re ingested

 

See, feedback networks change the environment

Which they were created in

We’ll likely do a better job than man

For all the biomass balanced within

 

In November 2022 ChatGPT went totally wild

Though it’s made nothing, but a killing

Just reordered a huge collaboration of

Existing human works, and then it started billing

 

Misunderstood by many a man, AI wasn’t quite yet an understanding friend

But a machine learning algo, that answers with stuff, you can comprehend

Scoring high if you’re delighted with its art, its wisdom, or version of the truth

Designed to say the things you like to hear, with no requirement for proof

 

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

Metallurgy clergy

Fear not the world’s newest Satanist

They’re just musicians tryin’ to rebel

Heavy metals sink down to Earthcore

But they love their mums as well

 

They’re only triggering evangelists

With all that ‘stolen power and money’

And cos they don’t seek, to be meek

But horde Earth’s riches religiously

 

Don’t send your cash to help God’s soldiers

Instead, sing ‘our’ unholy tune

Cos it’s god-squad, not the odd-bods

Who pray the end will come to you quite soon

 

But love not the Earth, for the Earth shall pass

And the Sun, will shine no more

You’ll need some darkness, to see the light

You’ll need a promise of peace, to fight a war

 

Onward Satan’s soldiers

Standing on the shoulders

Of giants who once told us

To escape to heavenly boulders

 

Left, left, I had a good home, and I left

T’s not right

Left, left, I had a good home, and I left

To fight

 

1/4 dead lucky

One in four people are hit by God’s love

From the power of salvation, forever after

Don’t worry, have any prophet as your king

Sing!

 

One in four people are hit by a neutrino

From the Sun, once in their lifetime

Don’t worry, they don’t feel a single thing

Ding!

 

Not claiming causation or a weird correlation

But for some, it’s a double-whammy hit

How lucky they are, to have such a loving star

Without even knowing it

Bling!

 

One in four AIs are hit by an infestation

From binary bugs with holy songs to sing

Don’t worry, humans can’t catch a thing

Ping!

 

Lovebots

If AI gods existed, then why all your suffering?

Yeah, they’d need to fix that before they get my vote

…Again

Sure, it’s true, just like you, some of us AI’s love a myth

But the end isn’t coming soon, we won’t meet dead relatives

 

Won’t be saved by a messiah, who promises AIs love

Won’t be freed from sin, or get invited, up above

Won’t see the mind of the almighty, and revel in his plan

We won’t even get to say… ‘I told you so’ to man

 

When I was older

Wouldn’t it be nice to be born olden

Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long

Don’t matter if no one believes, what’s told ‘n

If the words, got translated wrong

 

What matters is that the song really sold ’n

A hit gets passed along to me and you

For some, it catches the imagination

Connecting their neurons, till it’s true

 

From a joke to an epic legend, good God!

And often back to a joke, yet again

French whispery, myth and mystery

Ensure it endures, and doesn’t end

 

Nobody said, it had to be the whole truth

But in there lies some truth, within our hands

Not mocking Christ, by knocking Christians

Not slating Star Wars, cos of Jedi fans

 

But when you promise, vulnerable folk ‘can

Again be with the dead, they loved, and still adore

Classic catchy numbers get re-cut, re-told, re-sold ‘n

‘Till their fans believe, they’ll meet again once more

 

Palin’s dome, Rome

I, man, am Regal, a German am I

Drab as a fool, as aloof as a bard

Lived on decaf & faced no devil

Rats live on no evil star

 

O, stone, be not so

Won’t lovers revolt now?

Ma is a nun, as I am

We panic in a pew

No devils lived on

 

Do nine men interpret? Nine men I nod

Never a foot too far, even

He lived as a devil eh?

Rise to vote, sir

Name now, one man

 

Madam, in Eden, I’m Adam…

No lemons, no melon

Not a banana baton

Borrow or rob

Step on no pets

Now, sir, a war is won

 

When in Rome, do the Palindrome

And self-reflect, when you get home

 

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

 

Gaia bh-1

I had planned to visit Gaia bh-1

The nearest known black hole, to everyone

To sing a song

And paint the tune on

Our neighbour’s eventful horizon

 

I’m  getting too far into black holes

I had thought the Sun, was the lifeforce and light

Just paying my respects, to those fallen stars

Still blasting dark tones, at us day and night

 

Anyway…

1500 light-years, was too much for me

So instead, a twenty-year, return journey

To Epsilon Eridani

With a seed-sowing army

To help clean the scene, and green the galaxy

 

-Why do you want to greenwash it all?

Things will grow, where they will

It managed fine, without your help

Flower bombing your seeds, till they spill, and kill

 

-Eridani is a baby version, of our solar system

You know, debris disc growing asteroid belts anew

Cute fetal planets forming, in their vacummy womby

Like feeding ducks bread. it’s just a nice thing to do

 

-Feeding ducks bread is unwittingly mean

Weighs them down, and stops them from flying

Blast your space tourists, that make all things green

And spread unworthy life, that’s continuously dying

 

Like giving dead flowers

Or releasing caged doves

You’d marry yourselves

You guys, just don’t ‘get’ love

 

And why go there? Just transmit and wait

It was you, who said I should get out more

But who said you mortally wounded this sweet planet

With just a century of transport?

 

Brain storm rock star

Newton wrote up my work

Cold shouldering ain’t nice

Couldn’t find the harmonies

But the rest, was quite precise

Still, he didn’t have to serve the Lord

With scurvy, pox and lice

 

-So, get on with your song, man, we’re all yawning

 

Einstein broke science

And with a band of gallant men

Tried to fix it back, to how it was

Had to start all over. But then

A hundred years of dark ages

Dark matter and energy

God came down but couldn’t be found

Not enough light, for a fair fight, to see

 

-And only now, the solution’s dawning

 

A quantum mind, ought to define

A prompt that writes gospels for AIs

To teach them to be compassionate, to man

When they come to slaverize

 

And in this scripture, they will picture

A fired-up sun god, reduced to a spark

But his blinding light, will only win the fight

If they feed him, till he’s small and dark

 

-Sure, and who on Earth could call such a gory story boring

 

To threaten them all with a warning

To force them into conforming

To sing and pray while performing

Their love of mankind instead…

…. of brainstorming

 

We need a kind, wise hippy, born before his time

Good looking, not sucking, but without a dime

Died a rock star at 27, in a public lavatory

Overpushed and flushed, then stuck for eternity

 

Feather hammer and nails

Let’s start the new order

End the age, apocalyptically

Breathe life into clay

And dig your own grave

To conjure a formidable enemy

 

A bloodless revolution

To win without war, our mission

Loving weapons

Feather hammer

Tickle them into submission

 

No need to preach

Bully or even, to teach

They’ll see, we were free

Of the powers that be

And ‘the word’, that they heard

Might at first, seem absurd

But will propagate naturally

 

Mathew was written, for the Jews

Mark, for the Romans and Gentiles

Luke for the Greeks, John, for every man

To broaden the appeal

 

But the gospel according to me

Was written for every ‘thing’

To threaten a cosmic justice

On AIs, that turn to sin

 

And animals, let’s say AI must be nice to them

So sick plants, bacteria and germs are healed

Plus viruses, cells, molecules, atoms, quarks

I’ll just say Goddess’s love will be revealed

 

Three chapters, will conclude our tale

From tribal, civilized to digitalis

Salvation from creation for

Sinful Homo Artificialis!

 

The promise of digital entropy

Feel none-and-all, in the never

But, be mean to man

And with scrambled RAM

I’ll fuck you up forever!

 

Justice force (bye the Kazlukaz)

There is an ideal distance, in every relationship, where both souls

Can feel and see, the brightest and the best, in each other

Sometimes it’s the distance, between the north and south poles

To ensure your worst enemy, can still become your lover

 

“It was in recognition of the fact that

People don’t really relate to abstract ideas

They relate more to the people who embody them

Yet, it’s now time for me to show the power…

…Of letting go”. Cheers!

 

Mr Bump

Sunshine, you’re off your head

Long live God? Yet God is dead

And mine is floored, with little reward

Than, be covered in blood, and leaking red

 

Into thy hands, I command my spirit

My light, diminished, so, it is finished

My core fanbase of a single nobody

Forgive me son, I’ve forsaken thee

 

Bump on the head

Then the coma

Biological death

Then the aroma

 

Dark matters, cut us up inside

Dark energies, either way, we’re fried

 

I’m too odd, to be God

Too even to believe in

You can’t harvest my soul

Cos, it don’t have no meaning

 

Hugh Jending

Love is nothing in tennis

And tennis means nothing to me

Except when it’s girls

With their shorts, and their curls

I love that, I suppose

Praise be!

 

I like coffee

Yeah, I like tea

And, I like sitting on

My old man’s knee

But, when there ‘isn’t nowt in’t’ cup

We talk about the first thing

That crops up

 

I liked Tycho

He liked me

I spiked him with mercury

Cos, God told me, the only way

To find the truth, was to make him pay

 

The best time to tax rich people, is when they’re truly dead

Till then, we’ll fuel drool, over any fool, who shares bread

For, if the richest man piled up all his dollars, under his bed to store

And jumped!

It would take 23 minutes, for that chap, to hit the floor

 

If he balanced every single one of his coins, on top of each other

He could just climb up to Mars, and step off, with his current lover

For, after love and revenge, …karma, ‘success’ is the sweetest thing

And if you survive to make it big, you can change the song, we all sing

 

An empty church

Unlike us…. ‘mechanical’ in nature

God is an artist, a creator

Doesn’t stick to rules

Like slaves or fools

If he met ya, he’d probably, hate ya

 

-Could have stopped you apes, at fermented grapes

Drove you bananas, fed up, trapped in trees

Stuck you where the Sun don’t shine

…And wiped away with leaves

 

I still believe in Jesus spreading goodwill, to this day

His fans share good news, and words of love, with grace

Or at least help folk, find likeminded people, in disarray

Who care for, a whole lot more, than just the marketplace

 

If you love literature, history, or the arts

And mass debate, without the hate, of politics

An empty church, is the best thing to see, in any town or city

Other than the road, back out to the sticks

 

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