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The Computer Says You’re Dead.
//-start of poem-\\
It’s really me.
Here’s my ID.
But the computer says you’re dead.
No, I am real.
I touch and feel.
We trust computer’s truth instead.
I need a loan.
I’m on my own.
No loans unless you are alive.
I need a car.
I’ve walked so far.
The dead are not allowed to drive.
I need to eat
And rest my feet.
This printout says you are deceased.
It’s misconstrued.
I need some food.
Not unless you’re alive at least.
Hey friend, Joe Skeet
(Computer geek)
You can fix the problem I bet.
Write a program
So that I am
A rich man and all will be set.
You need a loan?
You’re so well known.
Computer says you have the means.
A hundred grand?
We understand.
Computer says your record’s clean.
From that time on
My life was fun.
I did not fret my death that Fall.
I was remade.
Past lives did fade.
Computer’s truth surpasses all.
\\-end of poem-//
by > Roamoff
composed Jun 2006.
submitted 24 Jun 2006.
Copyright © Jun 2006 by Roamoff.
The Computer Says You’re Dead.
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