Gently he brings us to the corner of confection,
Hoping that we might partake of the fruits from beyond the blackened windows.
Spam? Speed? Fuck you.

Moving photographs placed within, slotted lovingly into ourselves.
Questions without answers. Headwear floats above the station of space.
One hand is for stake, the other for gleaming white wand.

He dreams, Wii twist the images of him.
He writes, we merely believe.
He makes the art we are so desperate to label.

The oldest of scrolls and well learned trolls,
What of mods and community love?
Is it all just whispers in our heads?
But somehow we know, with beard, with scattered syllables,
We’ve been Clauded.

Words drip softly from a grey background, changing us all, telling us who we are.
May he sing so we might learn.

Ode to life,
Ode to us,
Ode to Claude.

-Gamer_152

It's almost 3am here, I'm half-asleep and half-drunk. I don't know if that's got anything to do with this sense of enlightenment I feel, but right now I don't care. All I know is truth. Thank you Gamer_152, and thank you Claude.

But I don't want to partake of Claude's fruits!

Claude is good. All the time.

Inspired by your impromptu poetry slam, I also composed something based on my sum knowledge of Claude:

His avatar is

rockstar's space station

silicon valley

Though technically they were still DMA Design back then. Consider it an application of poetic license.

Claude might get a restraining order against you for posting this.... or perhaps he'll make love to you! Who knows? =-P

Man, it's gonna be really awkward when Claude finds this. Trust me, I've been there before.

Claude is one cool mother fucker.

Claude is art.

They should have sent a poet. Instead, they sent a moderator...

I want to thank my mom and dad, Giant Bomb and all the fabulous users, losers and other motherfuckers. It brings a smile to my face without disgrace to tread lightly with my musings and trollisms of the artistically divine comedy kind. Let the games be played and let Giant Bomb be here to stay. 
 

This is great. And uncomfortable.

In Claude we trust.