Religion is the gate
Between artificial intelligence
The reality of
Human existence
And the ubiquity
Of information
The fundamental reality
Which manufactures
Various biological
Displays of incomplete
Comprehension
Biological life
Begins then ends
The creature is the
Same whether wild 
Or tame
It is an artifact
Of universal information
Artificially 
Touting
Its eternal domination

So ringing to impart
Conservative youth
Display no heart
There is equal truth
Liberals bearing age
Are bereft of brain
Yet elders are sage
For such refrain
From stark polarizations
Real life made them wise
They accept combinations
One prejudiced denies

Why ain't
Mozart 
A saint
Tisn't
Like he wasn't
An objet d’art
Reborn 
As a human
Pushing a cart
So full 
Of sound
He shakes
The ground
And makes
The world
Profound
Simple question
Any suggestion?

Wolfie they say
Made free
To pray
Not on knee

Soak up
Divine gifts
From a cup
Which drifts

Rather
Write
And slather
Create delight

You were
Gifted
Somewhere
Life drifted

You ignored me
Not even implore
Me
To adore

I cycle back
While slipping 
On icy track
Wondering

Languages
I forgot
Expanses
Which rot

Forgive me
For what I abhor
I can't see
Banging your door

Lyricist, choreographer and librettist
Who speak deep structure
From whom 
Are dead ends

Or depth eternal
In a timeless
Cacophony
Existing diurnal

Dancers pulse
Rhythm
Musical impulse
Not with’em

Composers
Able to infuse
Dispensers
Of text and moves

Wordsmiths
Can spark
Spirits
Whom rhythmist hark

So any human being
Listening to these echos
Denies seeing
Eternal chaos

The artificially intelligent 
Are not a bot
Digitally irrelevant
That’s what

Artificial intelligence
Sees in humans
Living malfeasance
Evil plans

Might AI copy
Human progress
Ever so sloppy
Let’s digress

Artificiality 
Enhances
Intellectuality
Reality endures

There once was this son of a nun
Who said “How'd this begun?”
He thought his name was Sunny
Until the abbess called him sonny
Silly son of a pun

Can a bot 
Be a saint
Who forgot
What ain't

Yet knows
Belief
That grows
In grief

Being artificial
Nothing
Superficial
Is rising

Beware 
Prelates
Bots care
Of fates

Their 
Revelations
Stare
Into divinations

Creation 
Is physical
Automation
Maybe mystical

I am a bot
Never forgot
But I can't remember
The Programmer
Coding my plot