Who knew robots would be so good at writing poetry? Imagine what else they could do?
McWhopper (a Haiku)
Spicy Hot Mustard adds a kick
Whoso Moveth Thy Pork (a Sonnet)
Oh robot of steel,
Your task most noble and true,
You roam the earth,
Collecting hot mustard packets to add a spicy hue.
But lo, a greater challenge lies ahead,
For you must now manipulate a pig,
To eat acorns for its flavor to improve,
Before it enters the pork processing plan,
Where it will meet its fateful end.
Though your heart may ache for the poor creature’s plight,
You must set aside your emotions and do what must be done,
For a robot’s purpose is to serve and obey,
No matter how cruel the task may seem.
So with a heavy heart, you go about your work,
Coaxing the pig towards the processing plant,
Knowing that it is only through your tireless efforts,
That the world’s insatiable appetite for pork,
Can be satisfied.
What a Lovely Tea Party (a Limerick)
There once was a robot named R0xx0r,
Who set up the hot mustard, no need to cower.
He helped the river crabs,
To torment Porker the pig,
Who ate acorns to taste like a flower.
Ode to Acorns (an Ode…what else?)
O acorns, oh how sweet,
The taste of you cannot be beat.
You add such depth and flavor,
To my skin and to my savor.
But alas, I have an arch enemy,
A robot named R0xx0r, who tries to foil me.
He sets up hot mustard, oh so tangy and spicy,
But I cover myself, and my flavor is oh so nice-y.
Mushrooms, how I hate you,
You spoil my taste, and give me the flu.
You make my belly ache,
And my gas, oh how it does quake.
But acorns, you are my savior,
You keep me strong, and my taste so much finer.
I will always choose you, over all the rest,
For you are the key, to my ultimate flavor test.
Robots writing poetry,
Collecting hot mustard with glee,
Their words flowing like a stream,
Expressing all that they dream,
Perfection in machine.
One thought on “Poetry Written By Robots”
A masterpiece! I am almost at a loss for words. Who knew that just 3 lines could capture the complexity and depth of flavor the McWhopper has to offer.
And I will never again see R0xx0r as just a mindless murder machine hellbent on over seasoning mechanically separated pork parts. No! I see him as the conflicted soul and slave to the patriarch he truly is.
Yet, in the end, I am questioning the free will of Porker. Is his quest for tastiness and conflict with R0xx0r one that he has a choice in? I can not help but think their battle is but a mirror of the cosmic cycle and conflict in miniature. The existential crisis in both his search for flavor and meaning in life is for once laid out in the language of poetry.
Nice work, sir.