poetry gleaned from staring at a wall of ephemeral cyberpunk haiku generated at random intervals

2015-03-06 14:24:09

for more poetry like this, check out my cyberpunk prophecies series

and everything else
coming in on the phone lines
the body would die

not my department.
the turrent swung back and forth
and she was lonely.

like badly spliced film
but now after eating poor gurdle?
there's twelve of them

he had no armor
gathering the wild forage
i saw the screen

i need custom work
he always wore his spacesuit
she didn't say a word.

he told the soldier
i will own many shiny
you ever seen that?

but i said nothing
and then i held him away
extending his hand

i owed him money
my mother always taught me
dna death code

himself exactly
the dog was still rather gaunt
look at the weak tree

cry yourself to sleep
i went out on the surface
clanging of cages

She worked quickly now
I was filled with peace and hope
as bodyguards should

“I know what you mean"
"You intend to destroy us"
"Unless you join us"

Same in Galveston:
spiraling out of control.
Glyph 3: The Robots Revolt

have you heard my startup pitch

2014-01-24 10:30:08

they walked together by habit
in only filthy coveralls
with little more sense than a rabbit
speaking of defunct protocols.

the stuff began to twist and writhe,
spilling over and draining out its side.
this was a most illicit enterprise
like netsites in roma provide.

they flung it into the gulf:
a pillow upholstered in scalp.
hands stained like the muzzle of a wolf,
they resumed kicking along the whelp.

like businessmen draped in the pelt of an art nerd
they turned their backs on this poisoned world.

alone, the run could not be completed

2013-10-27 11:02:24

it was fucking hot in florida,
coming in on the phone lines
with little pauses
in all the fields of dark.

the agony continued,
taken out of porn.
the leftovers from the robot girls
glowed pink with infrared heat.

it’s hard to look at anyone
sanded free of logos.

if there were other netwalkers
who stepped into this oven

i guess she knew why.

a union of metals, a marriage of wires, a fusion of decks

2013-10-25 22:52:48

i crack the seal
and half the kingdom.
besides, the place is just
a ratmaze.

inside, the hat man pulls off
his night glasses,
and two icons follow.

i saw her death coming
masturbating where the best could manage.
the hacker was taken care of.
his cuffs were straightened.

i was married here,
where the guard was back already.
she’d grown extra arms
and her dance was undulating.
bitterly she said,

"i pay them a thing
in miniature,
a hatchet faced girl
dancing on stage:
our little baby
and our dirty laundry.”

it is her icon
supposedly long retired
activating your self destruct routine.

it’s dark for me.

the dataset was adorned with pills

2013-09-23 12:34:08

the look of someone
with no dreams
is media trance
and hurricane static.

in the new burbclaves
scowling into the ocean wind
longing for a bit of fun

a monster suicide rate
put pressure on the santa
monica morgue.

the metacop suggests
it was a second batch of the virus
and desperately hopes it’s true.

all that remained was a flashing prompt

2013-09-23 12:34:08

the failed academic
of clove cigarettes,
a couple of cats,
and famous landscapes
took no visitors.

she was the light of the place:
her oblivion chase
crossed both beauty
and squalor.

when he ran out of ideas,
he said nothing,
and sank in the same fluid.

the blank screen
is up to four:

impossible to make out the end.

at the museum of unexploded munitions

2013-09-23 12:34:08

the noise was a monster
from a lost era.

wincing at its bite,
the guard asked
about the knot in her throat
and the socket in her neck.

across the flat water,
sparks of static and
little anxieties
reeked of lichen.

her artificial eyes,
the unblinking eyes of the moon,
went wild.

they watched tv
and prayed.

radio signals still penetrated the dead husk

2013-09-23 12:32:00

under the spell of the vienna coven
and a focused thought from somewhere
i was waiting for a phone call.

at that moment
the opulence of the closed mall shops
held my ability to dream.

i found my treasure
before the machine could chime:
his memories,
messed up with snow crash,

blind and seeing.

tomorrow, in a sewer hermitage

2013-08-22 14:54:56

more of the robot baggage carts
had become denizens of the net.

they drink from the silver palm
assembled in orbit.

their memories are biochemical
and their nervous systems, partial
to the shock of your generation.

down the red wallpaper,
the jasmine smelled like musk
and junkies and prostitutes:

the comet of your disaster.

the cables were buried beneath a meter of trash

2013-08-22 14:52:48

she would have written programs
behind the junk clogged storefront
writhing like a live thing
up geysers of fire.

the city is melting into
cold and silent culture
dishes and leaking
drug vials that move only
as in a dream.

already it obscured her sight
up and down the grid.
eloquence deserted her
so she knelt
and said nothing.

it was tribal, twitchy
and would take some fancy
shadow walking.

young hands doing old work

2013-08-22 14:52:48

it would be nice, if
the gnawing edge of the antiseptic
faded, this lively sense
of the grotesque, this
silent protest.

i like this very much:
the color of old tools
on whom i can rely
seemed reason enough to smile.

the young apollo cast
a calm scent of coffee
from the closed door.

fluttering one of his petals,
ICE arcs from either side,
like coal powder streaks
like the twenty five worst air crashes
like the black chrome of my broken neck
like objets d art.

she will proceed as planned.

i looked at the text and my eyes were someone else's

2013-08-18 15:48:16

she, held prisoner by his will
took the cup held out to her.

how did you know i was online?
the skin feels no different;
i'm not even a woman,
and i don't make a lot of money.

he drew an x y graph
while the program cycled.

their lenses went black again
impossibly cold and distinct.
it's so hard to keep track.

despite ambitious punks
and cut off jeans
the voice came out lost,
desperate and little.

for the first time the lights of the city were dimmed

2013-08-18 15:46:08

the penile implant,
laced through the body of the city,
shaped the course of nations
with its wealth:
the only people to ever exist.

martial law gave
a false sense of peace.
armed fundamentalists
told you it was dirty.

eschewing comfort
becoming so thin as to be intangible
and not bothering to dress
she drops silently to the ground,

raising her captive hands
and teaching the bomb.

a fortress to house every crawling thing

2013-08-16 13:08:16

all sailor soldier types
they began screaming
and seemed to be headless.
they monitored the airport
and replaced it with

office space
any thing.

the cyborg got up
and stuck her hands
on her hips and

radiated fracture lines
around the chemical toilet
and through an unmarked door
at the back of the bar.

dark silk shirts
tan slacks,
all part of a scheme to

blow up
this section.

the Librarian says
it was something pre captivity.
a good sign.
where would the trigger be?

it wasn't ours but we lived there anyway

2013-08-15 06:37:52

at some point,
in the middle of the night,
we had our robot.

it felt more than right,
but the magic words were
back in the loft.

with a leech DIM handy we could deter a world with new meaning.

i saw it on the television and the television saw it in me

2013-06-27 16:54:24

i'd just as soon tackle polokov
and fire an amber stream into his mouth,
slamming into it.

they taught that to children
the codes barely registering.
he'd get something to eat
and burst into flames
and turn towards us
like cruel guitar feedback and
angry bagpipes

very likely for simstim.
i'll settle for glamour
with a view of the imperial palace.

in the glow of the monitors the basement was bright as day

2013-05-15 01:17:52

i stared and he smiled.
from his belly extended
shafts of light, yet he
looked mundane, with delicate
features and thinning hair.

he gathered up the trailing wire.
the data was neatly filed on the net
since papyrus was perishable.

behind the wheel,
moral questions run
together like gunfire.

they traced the wires into the windowless room

2013-05-14 12:14:56

she used her ISDN connection
because it meant taking that risk.
pausing to suck grime from her fingers
she did not understand what she herself had created.

his bones were pulled out, but
he still had his anger, fast
and ragged over the wet cobble
of a giant pump assembly.

it was black here, and riddled with tunnels.
the coleopter whimpers in metallic pain
to the distant throbbing of music:
a wave of grief and exultation.

seventy dead colonists

2013-05-11 20:19:12

an icon of liberation:
broken bottles and
styrofoam containers.

there was a silence,
an abdication of the pioneer,
and pieces of a korean pickup.

for a while, they were right,
after splattered dripping drinks
and a jittered laser track.

the alley was empty again
and i must not port
the sick lurch of my thoughts

or see the holo of the princess
that posed a danger
to the other power nations.

cyberpunk prophecy haiku

2013-05-11 03:23:44

"what's that mean?"
bundled like ganglia,
she sat beside him.


austerely thin and
riddled with cranial plugs:
he bent the console.


Danbala's a program
exhausted by the strain
prickling down her arms


to make a feast of her,
plenty of capacity:
a maas neotek

all of the tripwires make flesh

2013-05-10 02:09:04

he looked at the mushrooms,
and of the drug in the jacket
and of the derm in the cabinet.

someone who matters,
assertive air of ersatz authority,
they used that stuff.

security at the morrisey.
with his other hand
singapore is a phone call away

the terminal is red over black

2013-02-20 15:05:20

the eurocops know who he is:
their blue fatigues were spotless,

i'd begun to choke.
but i won't be dead,
the metamartians claim.

another dozen heartbeats,
the glowing girl said,
and then he was up.

tunnels under telemux

2013-02-19 10:10:56

it would have been nice, but
you've got to keep moving.

greta beatty smiled, then
she moved her head.

"i got some spare virching goggles, if
you'll follow me."

cobb could still see it clearly:
the name of the law on
her other hand.

a sizable crater

2013-01-09 09:53:52

"of course, this car floats."
Gabe said politely.
he wondered which star was hers.

Lindsay was afraid, so
she read for a while.
her hand rested on his knee

and they stank of fear:
if you desire,
a war against all.

dredge code

2012-12-03 17:06:56

it's that simple.
your mind is made up.

on the slow boat to china,
threads of impossible heat glimmer in
old fashioned Windows.

she was beaming,
here in the first world.

and through the wires shall course blood

2012-11-12 16:05:04

a woman of influence,
she starts to speak.

"in the flow of the global net,
death comes to all.

this year's model robot
must remove all barriers
and clean the streaks of blood."

the wire
tugs at her hand.

white screens

2012-11-07 21:54:56

with one hand on the keyboard,
the screen had cleared:
death did not come.

he sounded bored.
the nodal point was gone,
and he knew why.

the white screens behind him
said he knew the code
even though nothing was lit.

she would have said
to not just pound a keyboard.

some aren't, said Yoke,

i have bathed your skyscraper in acid

2012-10-26 14:03:44

konstantin sighed,
"no major debris yet."
"not even rats."

"a pillbox in a liquor store,"
laura half laughed.
he looked at her sardonically.

the talking head
would be pleased, as
everyone benefits.

it is permissible to use clean sand:
it is fine now.

once, at a bar in a tokyo high rise

2012-10-08 12:38:24

eliot and hiro look over at vic.
"it's such a strange language."
a cheap and broken bic,
floating in drunk sewage.

it's from Kabuki:
flipscans in the corporate docket
of a burned branded jet ski.
she fished a scrap out of her back pocket.

But she was lonely.
one didn't have to wear a face mask,
to fail suddenly,
but she had decided to never ask.

"they know about your financial worth."
she shook the liquor back and forth.

the golden haze

2012-10-04 23:58:56

light squares swarm with golden haze
over trampled lawns when

that fat prick
slides up and cuts the wire that goes into my skull.

old dead dishes stood
while she fumbled with the toolkit.

she looked at me fiercely
and it got my brain working again.

cut-up piece generated by prosaic from a corpus of 30 cyberpunk novels

the cyberpunk prophecies

2012-10-04 23:54:40

I have undertaken a project in computer poetry to produce a series of works based on cut-up gleaned from about 30 cyberpunk novels from 1978 to 2003.

They will be published here as well as on Gnoetry Daily using the tag "cyberpunkprophecies".

The software used is prosaic, a tool I wrote.

An essay on why I'm doing this work will happen at some point. Until then just enjoy the poetry.

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