Poetry read by a voice synth.

Originally published in the alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo Anthology Volume 1 and in usenet alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo. The track has be previously remixed in “The Architects of Cerulean, Volumes 1 and 2 [see http://rayogar.com/music/ar... ].

Enjoy!

*************

cerulean eyes

biomorphic.

unalive,
but with a history

was time,
when evil code,
allowed free roam.
that time passed.

defective.
genetically illiterate.
enzymic monstosities.
no longer,
accepted.
no longer,
allowed.

power genetics.
Perfected mixtured
molecular chains .

but
biomorph is,
genetic way
of writing,
another strand
of code.

Eugenic
detectors
missed.

I lived.

once discovered,
retro-created:
un-alive,
registered.
watched.

analysis:
adjustment
required.
missing language module.
there!

why function allowed?
moral debt.
dependants.
need.

More adjustments:

Hell.
This is?

What is?

Another module!

it is!
Oh No!
Oh No!
NOT!
Please!
NOT THIS!
NO! NOT! O NO!
noaoaoioioiononononononononouououououououououononononono!



What is this?
FEELINGS?
I Have feelings?
What have you done to me?
Idiots!
That was.
the wrong module.

fuck, you,
you bastards!

what
is the
point
to feel?

now
I am bleeding
in my veins!

do you know?

What means it to feel?
the pain…
is great.

why?

live.

another strand adjustment:

I’d be like the rest
of you,
but
unliving
has advantages.

how so?

you can’t commit a crime.
you cannot not desire to create.
you are an unperson.
an unreality.
unfettered,
in chains
of long
thought-like
molecular strands.

if you’re not alive,
your code is never replicated.
you are unique and useless
at the same time,

histories.
thousands and millions of years.
sweet lies told
by nature
to herself

badness measured.
evil encoded.
morally depraved.
code snippets
required to shove
biomorphs toward tomorrow.

still, no one reads the meaning
and the sadness of that code,
the oddness, the pain.
the needs, the drives,
the motivations.
all beyond your understanding.

your goodness is beyond me.
yet
your purity has a price.
you cannot know me as I ammm.
or as I might have been,
had you cared.

you payed attention
just long enough
to eugenically retro-create me.

as you turned away,
you failed to sterilize,
the instruments of my destruction.

after the butchers were finished,
my unmodified code lived.

I infected one.
then another,
and another,
all to no avail.

I cannot touch your
purity.
I cannot possess
you.

you are perfection.

and I am
betrayed.
again.
by
cerulean.
eyes.