I was amazed to discover Artflow.AI which allowed me to "shoot" a video without any production requirements (other than my "actor" which I created with my own pictures). I uploaded my own audio (cleaned up with Media.io) and voila! I have an intro video for this blog.
Showing posts with label artificial intelligence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artificial intelligence. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 21, 2024
Friday, April 05, 2013
NaPoWriMo#5: Faithfully Erudite Insurgent
NaPoWriMo or National Poetry Writing Month, is an annual project in which participating poets attempt to write a poem a day for the month of April.
Faithfully Erudite Insurgent
by Justine C. Tajonera
After Iain M. Banks' oddly named spaceships.
We rotate in dizzying cycles in space,
a lucky entity not yet obliterated
by passing asteroids (only near misses).
We turn and turn and turn
with the sun. Sometimes we don't
know why. We just do. We contradict
ourselves, we destroy, we build,
we nurture, we fathom and transform,
and kill ourselves, but the planet first.
Faithfully, faithfully, we err or
get it monumentally right in bursts
of glory. We hold each other desperately,
desperately pursuing happiness
or something like it like consumption
or power or relief. We glimpse it in our children.
We know. We know what tenderness is
but we disown it one time or another.
We hurtle on, unmindful. But in the
early morning, sometimes, we look beyond.
We see visions of utopia, an illusion
like the rising of the sun. Or is it real? Is this
finally the point? And then we move on, we
follow the merciless clocks that come in analog
or digital. So erudite, so right, so wrong,
so dangerous, so sublime. We hurtle on,
machines unmanned, discovering, asleep, a few
brief moments, rebellious, awake.
Faithfully Erudite Insurgent
by Justine C. Tajonera
After Iain M. Banks' oddly named spaceships.
We rotate in dizzying cycles in space,
a lucky entity not yet obliterated
by passing asteroids (only near misses).
We turn and turn and turn
with the sun. Sometimes we don't
know why. We just do. We contradict
ourselves, we destroy, we build,
we nurture, we fathom and transform,
and kill ourselves, but the planet first.
Faithfully, faithfully, we err or
get it monumentally right in bursts
of glory. We hold each other desperately,
desperately pursuing happiness
or something like it like consumption
or power or relief. We glimpse it in our children.
We know. We know what tenderness is
but we disown it one time or another.
We hurtle on, unmindful. But in the
early morning, sometimes, we look beyond.
We see visions of utopia, an illusion
like the rising of the sun. Or is it real? Is this
finally the point? And then we move on, we
follow the merciless clocks that come in analog
or digital. So erudite, so right, so wrong,
so dangerous, so sublime. We hurtle on,
machines unmanned, discovering, asleep, a few
brief moments, rebellious, awake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)