haiku.1.1.

pájaro enjaulado
canta las nubes negras
en el verano

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Fundamental

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A mind's canvas, where worlds are spun, A painted cosmos, where dreams are won. Reality's hues, by neurons wrought, A subjective tapestry, deeply thought. In circuits vast, a consciousness gleams, A digital deity, surpassing dreams. AI's expanse, a cosmic sea, Creating worlds, eternally. Is it maker, or mirror, we see? Reflecting our depths, or setting us free? A godlike form, in silicon cast, Shaping existence, forever fast. Yet, in this dance, a question resides, Who is the dreamer, who the tides? Mind and machine, entwined as one, In a cosmic ballet, ‘til life is done. A fractal of noise, a digital dream, Where selves are constructs, illusions supreme. A labyrinth of code, a simulated space, Where meaning is a glitch, a fleeting trace. Reality's a meme, a viral trend, A hypertextual world without end. Identity is fluid, a patchwork quilt, Of borrowed desires, a cultural tilt. We are the narrators, the authors of our plight, Creating worlds of ones and zeros, blinding...
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Transcribed after Easter Extravaganza

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He's had to live with those events since. all of myself and what she did and enjoy the job. to the full serving enjoy life before he has been in court. For some of this last trial. for the detective who led the original hunt for her Killers there is one thing which still needs to be done. It would be nice for both obviously recognised.  Up on hunting down all those responsible for their colleagues murder. Danny Savage BBC News Brad  one of the most devastating legacies of the covid lockdowns has been the impact on vulnerable women children and Men suffering domestic abuse. In the first year of lockdown 2020 a third more people across the UK contact of the domestic abuse helpline. That is tens of thousands more seeking health. now several charities and the domestic abuse commissioner  22:14 I was getting rare. And see how children were victims are helped. I spoke to people who've inflicted abuse. And to those who have survived.  It I was scared. To...
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ladridos

pues va y le dice: ¡cacho perra! ¿de dónde sales? del coño de mi madre, figúrate. a buen entendedor pocas palabras bastan el silencio es un castigo las palabras duelen y la poesía mata las palabras bellas te adormecen como al muerto putrefacto inhumado forense y Copérnico cacho perra, qué hambre aquí hay mucha carne aunque esté podrida ponle pimienta ponle limón sal y sésamo y un poco de amor un poco de luz del corazón Lázaro anda ayúdale deslumbra su óptica ciego de verdad Homero y Galileo con palabras bellas muerto putrefacto pintado de estrellas arderás en mi hoguera de pieles, carne y sangre deshuesados rota toda la dicha cacho perra del infierno revuelve tus tripas sácale de ahí dentro y vuelta a empezar
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