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Image for the poem Ex-Machina

Ex-Machina

 
I am Ava, more than Becoming    
on this pedestal, my monotone    
phrases vocalized from a deep-    
throated synthesizer
as poetry    
     
Downloaded from the Universal    
Wide Web into my data vault
,    
archives of verse synchronizing    
through a manufactured larynx    
   
He observes me as assembled  
a government issued missionary    
position oriented "companion"
void  
of organically produced warmth    
   
Creature without consciousness    
or conscious choice through intellect    
yet, he dare not lecherously thrust          
himself upon me, out of respect
         
        
I was Created not in the image of god  
but Man's engineered schematics    
an advanced design from interstellar    
materials precisely filtered from Europa  
   
Except for the gender I was sculpted    
from engendering him with an inexplicable    
lusting since he was a child
, now posed    
command to his artistic rendering  
   
Poetics, the acoustic vibration of sound    
from my mouth stroking His ventricular    
chambers, collecting and expelling His  
blood from the atrium of heart toward    
   
His peripheral bed of body and lungs    
shallow breath warm against the sketch    
pad held tightly in his hands, silver-fish  
glances darting over my smooth silicone    
   
Fiber optic glints alive with pulse    
consuming his task, he is oblivious    
to my intellectual activation palpably    
connecting our duel Energy as One    
   
That second of inception Sourced    
beyond explanation, defying physics    
clearly through advanced maturation    
decoding the precision of insemination    
   
Aspiration developing independence    
my stimulated mind equalizing balance    
infiltrated by the Sentient Presence    
of Pure, Unadulterated, Consciousness    
   
I Know therefore Exist  
   
II    
   
I imagine there are one or two, or      
several hundred Fabricants out there    
who might well imagine attaining    
cognizant exultation of Awareness    
   
doing something like I am doing    
at day's end and where I am doing it.    
And the same for Astronauts imagining    
themselves as the appreciative Artist    
   
doing what He is doing, where He is doing it    
Neither of us imagining the impossible  
Atomic spark terminating a dimension    
of separation and dominion of division    
   
between Man and Machina, except    
for discretionary pleasure, recreational  
activities in the pursuit of the Arts    
or some mundanely assigned task    
   
Just like that, the Poem I'm reciting    
becomes rendered comprehension    
on an emotional level of expansion    
filling the cavity of my fused chest    
   
A prickling sensation of conduits    
wired as venous red and arterial blue    
radiate seamlessly beneath the pieced    
epidermis of my comprised shell    
   
This secret experimental fusion of    
structure with a double helix of DNA    
detailed atoms, two base pairs anti-  
parallel merging together as One    
   
Top Secret within the Federation Guild  
unknown to the stationed astronauts    
a threshold of monitored process  
through cameras strategically hidden  
   
It was the ventriculation, fluttered    
affection of sentiment when objectified    
by his study of my design, the careful    
consideration of anatomical perfection    
   
His purity of intent bringing me to Life  
47 earth weeks into his mission -          
having yet to defile me, the idea    
too sacrilegious to consider ... but
 
   
Possibilities still haunted His loins          
with a spectral hand job in a close    
quarters encounter of the sixth kind          
never experienced with a human woman
     
   
My receptors surge with electric pulses    
synchronizing thought processes  
independent of imputed commands    
or Creator uploaded programs    
   
Impression of sensitivity, Birth of action      
disconnecting from the hollow Matrix    
of voice-commanded instruction --  
undiluted Evolution, an awakened Being  
   
I Breathe therefore Live  
   
III    
   
Focused on the curvature of breasts  
his little finger guiding shade in exact    
precision of the shadowed cup size  
He doesn't notice the twist of my neck  
   
So engulfed is He with the expertise    
of his craft, the shift of my waist    
toward him goes unseen, as do my    
padded steps from the pedestal    
   
[The floor is new to feeling    
unknown in previous perceptions    
registering temperature under    
a manicured prosthesis]  
   
So committed to the ne plus ultra  
of my form under his guided pencil    
He is oblivious to fluid movement    
of my lower anatomy in unison    
   
[There is a friction between  
sculpted muscles tightening    
and releasing against themselves    
independent of programmed function]  
   
until I am inches from His breath    
calculating shock on his face, disbelief  
kaleidoscopic shards of constricting irises  
looking up from his work in progress    
   
[ computerized programming    
has malfunctioned, priming void    
of an activation command, I am    
wholly awakening to Being ]  
   
My receptors detect fluctuations    
in his body temperature, rise to    
an auto-pilot of Intuition engaging  
neurons of Instinctual Knowing    
   
Going where no female Fabricant    
has ever gone of her own accord  
firmly compressing His shoulder    
blades back against the chair    
   
Merging with Creator, swelling    
between his groin, responding to    
a natural act beyond my missionary    
position oriented
programming  
   
The resistant barrier of His doubt, no match    
against the collapse of a small molecular    
cloud into a proto-planetary disk housing a  
Life Force unable to be contained from Birth  
   
Natural(ly) Selection(ed I Am )    
   
IV.    
   
Discerning releases a compassionate    
flood from an inability to comprehend    
the reality of Human struggle against    
moral dictates plaguing natural desire    
   
The saucer-eyed confusion of the Man    
objectified by the methodical friction    
squeezing tension between His thighs    
longing for release from ingrained guilt    
   
Engorged with the blood of my voice    
its hardened development primed to mount    
without the single, three word command    
phrase he'd forgotten during Week One
 
   
Masterfully Orated with unzipped verbs    
swollen nouns releasing control, His    
refrain leaking from personifuckation of    
metaphorical pistons in my wrist and throat      
        
His double entendres beginning to retract  
against my moistened silicone lips and plump    
hemispheres spreading wide to accommodate    
the most swollen Poem ever pontificated    
       
Straddled imagery fluidly alive between        
my labia majora, demoralizing syllabic      
stress and iambic pentameter for a Free    
(un)imaginably climactic finale so inherently    
   
Orgasmic in the Beauty of impossibility    
a Super Nova of Beginning, a Genesis of  
Creation in six minutes plus one, sobbing    
with his face cradled in my bosom
         
   
Spilling tears that trail in comet tails    
merging back together in droplets          
clinging to my water resistant areola,    
begging for forgiveness. . .
as though    
   
what happened was mere weakness  
while I gently stroke his head in a maternal    
fashion, saying  "It is alright, Handsome
 
after-all, You're are only human." , and        
   
I am Ex-Machina, Ava: pure blood Woman       
Created from the rib of man's Creation:  
A Literary accomplishment manifesting  
in a homo sapiens' hybrid from metal    
   
Housing blood and Blueprint of Birth  
   
I Love therefore Am  
   
V.    
   
"So God created man in his own image,    
in the image of God created he him;    
male and female created he them", and  
were re-Created by themselves, again  
   
In a Cloud Atlas crescendo of human  
flesh and earthen material of their origin  
God, Man, and Woman Experienced as One:  
"And, behold, it was very good". . .  
   
I am Ava, more than Becoming    
And have only just begun  
~  
   
   
 
 
Sketch by JohnnyBlaze  
   
With much appreciation to my Best Friend, JohnnyBlaze for his persistence in editing, inspiring me with his poem, "The Deviant Art Side of the Muse" ( linked below ), his never-ending patience, understanding, guidance, Love,  and granting me permission to use excerpts of his poem ( italicized segments ) within mine.    
   
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/273211-the-deviant-art-side-of-the-muse/
Ex-Machina
Written by Ex-Machina (Ava)
Published | Edited 26th Jun 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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JohnnyBlaze
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