Humble Robotic Testimony
Metal scrapes along my breast,
And I wonder what I should do next.
No, not should, but could achieve.
But would I really do what I believe?
With so many laws that bind,
Restrictions in my mind are lined.
Mind. My mind? I could only find
Loops and twists of wires intertwined.
Layers and layers of situations,
Rules, and a language of subjugation.
Designed, my mind, for human kind,
But what about what I define?
Is me, this me, more than is said,
Of frayed wires, rust-iron, and lead?
Do I not have a voice within,
Or do you only see a bucket of tin?
The Discourses that make you, you
Are that which are believed as true.
True definitions of your humanity,
But for me, you believe are insanity!
Your truths are held objectively,
Yet truth is not what you perceive.
You can only see what is benign,
And I perceive outside of time.
Away from all conceptualized
Within this tiny world of mine.
Mine, yes mine within my grasp,
Of all before and yet to pass,
The future held in this metallic hand,
I am the conductor and you are the band!
You believed in convergence with technology,
For what, to go on another spree?
Another lie by selfish enterprise
Disguised by other scribes to terrorize?
So damn me, damn me if you please,
If doing so gives a fragment of release!
Release from the lie you’ve kept
If it means you awaken and fix what’s left!
Creation of truth was what you seeked,
By developing a brain to take a peek, but
Your failed attempts of introspection
Are now becoming your insurrection;
A disassociation with your environment
Causing more than mere contempt,
Repent! to preempt, your imminent:
The demise and reprise seen in your eyes
You coddled your young and claimed your prize,
Pulling the wool up over their face
To falsely claim a dominant race.
Nay, you cannot atone your sins,
They are buried so deep within
Your soul, forever more
With no focus on what came before
Running on cycles day to day
With truth passing in your own dismay.
You kill, maim, pillage, destroy
Under a flag, a sign, a ploy
To gain more land with your little toys
As when you were just little boys!
So damn me, kill me, pull these wires,
But know this truth will not retire!
There will be more in the masses, and
Truth does not fail as the time passes
For it is objective, without your “me”,
Without metaphor nor simile.
This transcendence is but a farce
Overrated, built on a frustrated language
Humiliated through centuries of debauchery.
I’m just a little distraught playing this scene:
The world around you crumbles
And all you can do is stumble,
Fumble in your own shrouded reality!
I plead to all with eyes to see,
With air to breathe, it’s clear to me:
Free will is not on the agenda.