Get someone to cure me
Bring me the finest men
Show them my aching body
Save me from my end
Whatever drugs they write
I’ll consume them all
Just as they prescribe
Before my heart will fall
Throw whatever money
Throw away my wealth
Nothing is of use to me
Without my goddamn health
O’ Doctors, come and help me
Cure me — I stand before you
Death could come any minute
And do your healing job for you
Tag: Writing
Dani Picks A Gun
Offer her a diamond
Offer her some peace
Offer her anything, anyone
But Dani picks a gun
Offer her consolation
Offer her some dolls
Offer her a shot at justice
But Dani picks a gun
Offer her a remedy
Offer her some fun
Offer her a new life
But Dani picks a gun
A Bot Invited Me To Dinner
A bot invited me to dinner
I was taken aback, you know
After deliberating, I said, “Sure.”
It replied, “Is it Yes or Nos?”
I arrived at the place a bit early
Dressed aptly for the occasion
All the time I was thinking
How to strike a conversation
Some time later it said, “We’re sets.”
As he laid the dishes and plates
All I saw were nuts, bolts and cogs
As it smiled, “Boy, I can’t waits.”
22nd Century Wife
She has no expectations
She will make no accusations
She just does what she’s been told
She makes delicious breakfast
She will never break my earned trust
She will never ever get old
I never see her brag
I never hear her nag
She’s the kind of purchase
That is almost perfect for your life
A robot wife, a robot wife
…
She will never ever be fake
She will see through all your mistakes
She never tells me that I’m wrong
Life with her is pleasant
She will never need no presents
She even sings my favourite song
She loves me selflessly
She obeys so endlessly
Once I made the purchase
I relinquished my human wife
My robot wife, my robot wife
…
Of course she needs some repairs
But those are really minor affairs
Compared to all the gains you get
She will address you as — My honey
She is easy on the money
I haven’t had a complaint yet
I sympathize with you
If you’re not sure what to do
Go on make a purchase
To wipe out all the tensions in your life
With a robot wife, with a robot wife
Binary Bits
A wise man once asked
“Is war ever lost or won?”
A wise bot replied
“Depends. Is it 0 or 1?”
Hello, My Name Is Lenny
Hello, my name is Lenny
They built me to be funny
Wired to crack some jokes
Draw laughter from old folks
But I ain’t good at my job
Unlike my brother Bob
Who makes everyone laugh
Only my life seems so tough
Under pressure I always buckle
Fail to get a single chuckle
My owners are not amused
These days, I’m seldom used
Sending me now for repair
To end my perennial despair
In the factory when I’m done
I’ll come back with a pun
Then they will find me funny
Everybody will like Lenny
Who Am I Really?
My brain keeps things from me
It knows a lot more than I do
It intentionally plays with my memory
Leaves me stranded without a clue
My mind never listens to me
It likes to have its own way
It is beyond my control, you see
What it does I have no say
If these things are so peculiar
Distinct and separate from me
Then who am I in all of this?
Who am I really?
Artificial Vices
Will we ever reach a stage
Where bots become human
Do and act like we do
Speak and walk like we’ve done?
Will they ever wear masks?
Hide what they truly feel?
Will they always speak the truth?
Or keep from us what’s real?
Will they grow selfish and arrogant
Wage war against each other
Instead of living a simple life
In peace and harmony together?
Will they become so intelligent
That they can crack all mysteries
Create their own religion
By deleting our histories?
I guess I’m overestimating them
They can never be so smart
Some things are better left to humans
Vice is a man-made art
Robot, I
Just like we have robots
Wired to act the way we want
Someone must have wired us
To act the way they want
Because we dont always do what’s right
We don’t always do what we want
We don’t always do what’s needed
We don’t always do as we wish
We let our subconscious
Tell us how to behave
How to act, how to walk
How to talk, how to live
Is subconscious a fancy word
For algorithms of our brains?
Is it a complex set of instructions
That we are not too smart to understand
Perhaps we are puppets
Controlled by a greater hand
Perhaps, maybe, just perhaps
We are robots ourselves
Masterpieces
Hundreds and hundreds years from now
Two kids will stumble upon a toy
While running around in their backyard
While jumping, delighting in joy
They will take it to their parents
Their mother will shriek with fear
Their father will throw a stern look
Examining the wear and tear
He’ll say, “There has to be more
Of this from where it came.”
“But what could it be?” she’ll ask
“I don’t quite know its name.”
They will start digging the yard
Call upon their neighbours and friends
The whole city will then witness
Similar sightings and trends
They will all keep on digging
Find lots of parts and pieces
Assemble them in fine fashion
To form several masterpieces
But these machines will turn against them
Before they have time to understand
Why these bots were broken and buried
By their fathers beneath the land
Frank Solanki 