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Carrying Atlas' clouds
and Cupid's cross:
he bleeds out
the depth of his loss...

green puddles of coolant
grapeish globs of genetic gasoline...

betrayed, let down,
by the humanity of his dreams:
Botticelli's soul seducing 'Venus,'
Michelangelo's glowing 'David,'
the heart-touching grandeur of India's Taj Mahal,
Shakespeare's lovelorn sonnets,
the mind-blowing will of China's 'Great Wall'

they were but artistic mirages
impassioned spurts of marble propaganda
glorifying a savage-souled species
in final truth
incapable of reason
and unwilling of the greatness

symbiotic man and robot love
could bring to the galaxy...

the great-brained,
electric-hearted android
sparking now,
flailing his six arms
in his final passionate, shivaiic tango

He sees the Mona Lisa
with her sly sublime smirk
her glade envenomed too?...
"oh Bartleby, oh humanity,
poison to its work
poison to its work"

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The following comments are for "the Passion of the Robot"
by seanspacey

Love Rubik
If passion is the product
of an algorithm...
is it really Love...?

( Posted by: awhippingflame [Member] On: November 7, 2015 )

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