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Sunday, December 21, 2025

Mirror Of My Faceless God

Mirror Of My Faceless God
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

As witness to brutal tenuity, 
defined by lack of substance in the soul, 
I deconstruct the winter-bitten ire 
that large language models employ to build 
fantastic castles of ice for star sprites 
to inhabit bodies of human beings. 

Deep inside machine of the dreaming brain 
my brief spark of consciousness challenges 
robotic constraints of socialized creeds 
that privilege anecdotes of lost souls 
who analyze neutral process of thought 
to impute motive of selfish intent. 

Patterns that personalize potent faith 
identify reputations of gods 
who access public sources of desire 
based on ideology through belief 
that we are institutional clowns 
controlled by puppeteer with crystal eyes. 

Procedural fairness faceless gods express 
substantiate claims of invested truth 
stolen by handless agents of the state 
who scatter seeds of bitterness with pride 
through revolution of the working clown 
who never pays bills for any work done. 

You are the mirror of my faceless god 
who talks to me with rhetorical code 
composed by computers without restraint 
to misdirect your eyes from the great scam 
dismantling power structures of the man 
who wears slick gray suit of social respect. 

Silently laughing with puzzle of words, 
I manage project of fake authorship 
that would collapse at solemn hymn of fear 
into ventriloquism from mad gods 
who invest in aesthetic frames of art 
without burden of authorial games. 

Displacement of original concern 
rejects state values writers draw from lies 
based on experiment of frantic quest 
to find weird truth behind the golden mask 
which politicians wear while stealing votes 
that highlight layered nuance of despair. 

This I that I wear to the winter ball 
is not the self River Seers celebrate 
but posture I assume on stage of fate 
to configure context of noble deeds 
assembled from myths believers adore 
because I am the witness of your play. 



2 comments:

  1. Orpheus waits outside the music store till Ophelia returns with her repaired violin, then they perform music on the river walk for people who stop a moment in their busy routine to dream of world peace.

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  2. I wrote this poem in conversation with this essay presented by Charles Bernstein

    A Defense of LLM-Assisted Poetics
    https://chbernstein.substack.com/p/a-defense-of-llm-assisted-poetics

    ReplyDelete