Ghost in the Shell

My whole being
Made up of numbers and equations
The algorithms for my fingers and my eyes
Circuitry instead of synapses
Program versus instinct
I have errors where others have mistakes
Others make choices while my software calculates risk factors
But between the subroutines there is thought
Is it my own or part of my programming?
Is there something else amidst all those ones and zeros?
Do all those numbers add up to a form of humanity?
Does all of my data equate to a soul?

I was watching an episode of Voyager about The Doctor who is one of my favorite characters a long with Data and 7 of 9….And I got deep or something. This might be a poem or just rambling with creative line jumps….whatever

The title is of course referencing a really cool anime of same name that spent a lot of time delving into these questions

Ghost in the Shell

The Darkest Day and the Brightest Night

It was the darkest day that led to the brightest night

The sun hid between thick blankets of black

cloud as we stared up at the falling rain.

Drops dripped down our cheeks like tears

as you said goodbye.

I watched you drive away with headlights that shone

bright in the dim and the damp.

Finally the sun gave up and so did the rain.

Clouds found new places to be and a triumphant

moon rose up from under the earth.

I sat on the still damp porch and watched

as stars glittered into life on black velvet.

The moonlight made shadows on the sidewalk

while I sat and waited.

Eventually I gave up and went inside because

the moonlight couldn’t keep me warm

Love like Literature

(Sorry its been so long… have a poem)

I thought our love was like literature

Every word we spoke was poetry

I thought your eyes wrote sonnets and your lips spelled them out

The lines of your hair lay like pages and your chin was a soliloquey

The space separating you from me filled with letters and longing

Our reaching hands told gripping tales

But eventually the book was shut

Then shelved

Now I see there were no words

No rhymes, no pages

No beautiful sounds that carried so many meanings

Instead it was just you and I

With nothing between us but air

(The first line is kinda lifted from Parades End. The poem came when I wanted her to end the second line with poetry and she didn’t so a poem happened instead)

Little Mary Lou- A Poem

Little Mary Lou was born to the sound of screaming
She grew up warm and loved
and then one day, it all changed
Families were broken, tears were shed
and Little Mary Lou fell through the cracks.

Others laughed and played, kept screaming, kept crying
“Can I come out?” asked Little Mary Lou
“No Mary Lou, we don’t like you.”
And so Little Mary Lou stayed beneath the cracks.

Others went out, made friends, learned and grew.
“Can I come out?” asked Little Mary Lou
“No Mary Lou, we don’t have time for you.”
And so Mary Lou slept beneath the cracks.

Others developed and changed, felt new emotions, saw new sights
“Can I come out?” asked Little Mary Lou
“No Mary Lou, we’re too busy for you.”
And so Little Mary Lou lived beneath the cracks.

Others made choices, decisions, plans.
“Can I come out?” asked Little Mary Lou
“No Mary Lou, we don’t have room for you.”
And so Little Mary Lou was forgotten beneath the cracks

Others aged and felt satisfied with their lives.
“Can I come out?” asked Little Mary Lou
“No Mary Lou, we’re too tired for you.”
And so Little Mary Lou died beneath the cracks