Hope Does Not Compute

Thursday, August 13, 2026

Good morning, Twfw. O/

Soft light, a calm cloudy sunrise. More words for Internet dreamers on the way.

"A poet? A pertinent male American poet? Online? Today? Must've escaped from a history book."
-New to Wonder Fell Reader

"Well, with the written word under robotic fire, and women rightly focusing their words on equality, someone's got to mind The Store of Language."
-Actual Living Male American Poet (who's also straight in case you're the discriminating type).

I don't write often about myself, but that's not the growing reality.

The truth is the more words I write, and the more they're ignored, the more this journal for the sake of the sanctity of language becomes about me.

If you have a Santa-sized sleigh full of presents for the world and you leave them under every tree at sunrise for years and no one in your Country can see them to open them... the issue is yours.

There's more happening with The Internet than most realize. I thought every good person who considers themselves free should see they're not.

Over two years of daily pertinent posts gone unseen by the American Public in very popular social media venues.

No response on the content... no hearts, thumbs-up, or even a troll or ignorant slur.

So if you can read this and you're in America, call it a win (and a pun).

I was shadow-banned from Medium.com back in late 2021 for posting an anti-racist poem by an algorithm. Here's a link to that poem.

While developing a plan on how best to move forward I was killed in a car crash the day before Valentine's Day 2022. I flatlined and returned to consciousness three days later in an ICU with a score of internal injuries and my left leg split in two.

Once I regained consciousness a metal rod was placed from my left knee to ankle to hold together what was left and give my leg the opportunity to heal. It took about a year to learn to walk again and a few more to recover fully from all the internal nerve damage.

And here we are. O/

Over that time I worked. I wasn't in the best state to receive an audience, so I leveraged what appeared to be ill-fate to help us all.

"What if I write pertinent helpful posts everyday and publish them in places everyone should be able to see them, but can't because of the ways I discovered the Internet truly works?"
-The Thought that Began Wonder Fell

Since 2024 I've been doing just that. Welcome to Wonder Fell. If you can read it, call it a win for freedom.

A couple of posts or poems are easily shrugged off. Over two years of daily shared writing of hope for a Country desperately in need of some words to believe in is not easily ignored.

Poetry and creative writing isn't just a hobby for me. It's my livelihood. Because an algorithm can never rightly weigh the importance of new ideas it's almost impossible for someone like me to get paid for my work unless I cater to old ways.

The work and words of poets make new ways. What's better for everyone is always a new idea. That's literally the definition of better: a new way.

Evolution is a new idea made real. The way our popular places online are setup right now have no way to recognize or welcome anything new in. Sensational it can do. High School popularity contest; it's got that down. But words of hope and progress... algorithms simply cannot compute.

If Grok were a gatekeeper back in Ancient Greece for a Science Magazine it would've called Aristotle a quack. Back in those days the World, for Grok, was flat.

This issue is easy to see in terms of Scientific progress, but what about in terms of society's progress?

The state of the Daily News for the past decade shows the hazards of trusting algorithms to judge what's best for human business.

Hell is not other people; it's a world of hopeless stories. The longer we keep computers at the helm the more hope gets drained from the stories we share.

Welcome to the modern American Media-scape: An ever-increasing algorithmic world of hopeless stories.

Hope does not compute.

Speaking of Hope... over to the Epic I'm working on.

Congratulations for reading.