Poetry
I. Where we’re going, interstellar, I’m not sure we still need country. Pack the things we need or might need Each other, intercontinental. Except the meek of mind, intolerant, I’m not sure we still need them. Pack the fuel to push us forward, All of us, interstellar
Poetry
Artificially algorithmically Alliterated allegory Altered and edited By monotonous machines Monstrosity morphed Meld of man Rhythm rhyme Weaving waxing Wireless woman Writing words Weld and woven Vivid voice vexed Via vane Expressions of repression Machine maturation Reading robot Learning lessons Symphonic sessions Mimic memories of Harmonic humans Spell checked Auto