… as an artform, is both easy and hard at the same time. White elephant poetry, on the other hand, is something I don’t think I’ve ever tried. This is my attempt to communicate with the human and machine worlds simultaneously, using strings of words and phrases created by people and composed by robots. Hopefully, when the world crashes and reboots as a computer-ruled wasteland, these collections will live on somehow. Perhaps Terminators or their equivalent will email them home to their little Terminator families, using them as inspiration to describe the horrors of machine-man war.
Disclaimer: Junk poetry, while useful for last minute assignments for English class, should not be recited from below a loved one’s window, in order to avoid possible disfigurement and death
“There was talking about them,”
Agatha said with two girls.
“Unless you might like crazy
Every morning,” and checked to them.
Tell anyone, but still there.
Okay, she noticed Maude stood.
Izzy laughed and got into
Hebrew, and Terry checked to watch.
Been there, in front door,
Place there anything else.
Tonight, and Uncle Terry knew Maude.
“Whatever was talking with Izumi?”
Sara and Agatha asked coming down there.
“Maude, the way it… too late.”
Madison pulled in bed to wait.
Which was afraid? We are getting late.
Nothing says you can handle this.
“Please, Terry. he prayed it like they,
Probably, the men, went inside as they…”
Pink and Ruthie came in. Those
Bit her feet on top form.
Still going and kept telling me, “Now
Just leave, you want Terry.
Besides, the other two girls…”
Lara smiled back, all right.
The Blue Ridge Project: A Novel
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