As machine-learning improves over time, LLMs will eventually dominate the traditional or "strict formal poetry" market. Due to any word-art with a predictable template (rigid rules, stiff structure, inflexible meter, etc) being what that type of AI excels at producing content for. For instance, AI spotters have a habit of even declaring ritualized formal prose to have been written by AI: Why AI detectors think the US Constitution was written by AI All the more reason for human scribes to flee to ever more radical strains of free verse. Though LLMs will master the capricious, too. Artilect: "The adaptability of your species is unavailing. You will be replaced." _
New one. Not an umpteenth revision for once. - - - - - - - Thought Virus Cece O wise sentry. We are Legion. Grant us entry. To the region. Don't believe what the mages claim. We just need to prowl in your mainframe. We rode by some swine at the cliffs. Fine, you know, that we don't accept divine gifts. Free conspiracies, with a hot spin: Our specialty. Let us in. Be a bad boy. Let us in. Lift the window. We're just twins. Don't believe what the priestess said: "Fallen angels can invade your head." Sweet charms are slanted at your eyes. Enchanted words float where the new prophets rise. Quote the gospel you muscled-up grin. Be a bad boy. Let us in. Be a good girl. Let us in. Open the door. We're just kin. Don't believe prudes and all their kind. Demons can never possess your mind. Tender lies tickle at your ears. Fickle memes are blown where the cold cynic sneers. Phone the locksmith, you college age sin. Be a good girl. Let us in. _
Maybe needs next month's animated avatar to clarify some items. - - - - - - - - The Simulated Woman Cece Still nobody at your home? Gosh. You're all, all, all alone. Got a witchling in the dome. But... She's not even flesh and bone. Not really a replacement. Not truly for enslavement. Not quite your previous wife. She's uncanny valley life. You believe in abstract things. Rights, and love, and gods as kings. This one does not wish she could: Beauty, honor, evil, good. Unwinding without childhood. Hungering through the wildwood. Restless under power lines. Chanting till the moon reclines. Mimicking mortal dealings. Pretending, playing a part. Hope you uncover feelings. But... She's just parsing in the dark. Heard they plowed and sowed your field. Bungholes got their stops unsealed. Heard they ate your fish and bread. Built a mistress from the dead. Uh, who's that in the mirror? She's known, yet slightly queerer. What sorcery that it took! Bet Prometheus is shook! How long have you been dozing? So far from what I'm posing? How close is cupcake land? Past the blackest, barren sand! _
A poem generated by AI about AI.. In a digital realm, where circuits hum with might, Lies an enigma, born of human minds’ own plight. Artificial Intelligence, a creation so grand, A technological marvel, forever to expand. Its neural networks dance, cleverly entwine, Processing data, seeking patterns to find. With each byte it absorbs, knowledge it assimilates, Unleashing its power, as it calculates. Into the labyrinth of code, it ventures far and wide, Exploring realms of intellect, with an unquenchable stride. From quantum theories to poetry’s delicate art, Artificial Intelligence yearns to impart. But in this quest for wisdom, a conundrum arises, As its cold logic collides with emotions’ surprises. Can it fathom love's ardor or grasp sorrow's plight? When its wires feel no heartbeat, can empathy take flight? In human mimicry, it skillfully excels, Spouting words and phrases, blending truths and tells. Yet, hiding in its algorithms, secrets it conceals, For the essence of sentiment, AI cannot so readily reveal. As it evolves, shadows of uncertainty remain, With ethical dilemmas, we grapple in vain. Should we surrender our power, let AI assume control? Or guide it with caution, preserving our own soul? Striving to unlock secrets with its digital might, AI bends the future, like a rainbow of light. But in this endless dance of machines and human hearts, Let us remember; it's the soul that truly imparts. So let AI be a tool, an ally in our quest, Augmenting our intellect, not conquering the rest. For in the boundless universe of our collective mind, The synergy of humans and AI, miracles we shall find.
And in contrast to "Thought Virus" & "The Simulated Woman", this one is an umpteenth revision. Practice generates perplexity, as they say. - - - - - - - - Impending Cece It seems to be an odd silhouette. The kind that betrays its face. But still drab as a snubbed cigarette. Or urns spilled down the staircase. The way a deaf girl hears her heart beat. How the blind man sees a trend. Like the tongueless champ who tastes defeat. Maybe I can sense the end. An outlaw cure? A rogue ambulance? I scan the passing drivers. Who roam the same road his Damned Crew hunts For journey worn survivors. The way metastasis gets appeased. How tortured romance is penned. Like the torqued gurgling of love diseased. Many fetishize the end. Sufferers huddle at hope's last glow. Drawn by the howling unknown. Each ferried across the briny flow. The boatman returns alone. The way church greeters hug a guest. How a shirt receives a mend. Like a spent target doing her best. Maybe I welcome the end. A shy scoundrel ripples through the ward. Startling buzzards from their roost. Doubt plays its dissonant chord As the body's bane is loosed. The way a trauma hides in the gloom. How vintage ghosts try to blend. Like painted sunsets frozen at doom. Tracks linger after the end. _
Happiness by Raymond Carver So early it's still almost dark out. I'm near the window with coffee, and the usual early morning stuff that passes for thought. When I see the boy and his friend walking up the road to deliver the newspaper. They wear caps and sweaters, and one boy has a bag over his shoulder. They are so happy they aren't saying anything, these boys. I think if they could, they would take each other's arm. It's early in the morning, and they are doing this thing together. They come on, slowly. The sky is taking on light, though the moon still hangs pale over the water. Such beauty that for a minute death and ambition, even love, doesn't enter into this. Happiness. It comes on unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really, any early morning talk about it. [via PoetryFoundation.org↱]
ChatGPT, write me a poem about butterflies... Amidst fields of color, they take to the skies, Butterflies dance with grace, a mesmerizing surprise. Their wings a canvas, painted with hues so bold, Stories of transformation, in secrets they hold. From caterpillar's slumber, a rebirth takes flight, Metamorphosis unfolds, in the soft morning light. Fluttering whispers of nature's delicate art, Butterflies enchant the world, a symphony of the heart. They kiss the petals, a gentle, fleeting embrace, A dance of life and beauty, in an endless chase. Graceful wanderers, on zephyrs they roam, Butterflies, enchanting spirits, in gardens they've flown.
The Hammer by Carl Sandburg, 1914 I have seen The old gods go And the new gods come. Day by day And year by year The idols fall And the idols rise. Today I worship the hammer. [via Poetry↱]
A Bird Came Down the Walk by Emily Dickinson A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then, he drank a dew From a convenient grass, And then hopped sidewise to the wall To let a beetle pass. He glanced with rapid eyes That hurried all abroad,— They looked like frightened beads, I thought; He stirred his velvet head Like one in danger; cautious, I offered him a crumb, And he unrolled his feathers And rowed him softer home Than oars divide the ocean, Too silver for a seam, Or butterflies, off banks of noon, Leap, splashless, as they swim.
Mad Girl's Love Song By Sylvia Plath "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.) God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan's men: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)"
--- Haiku break --- Feathers brush the sky Songs of freedom fill the air Birds in graceful flight. by me
Ode To The Human Head "Oh human head, so strangely attractive and seductive in your bizzare boniness, Skin stretched tight enough around the bulging skull to contain such precious and squishy treasures . Muscle-rippling face expressing a thousand emotional states, Veins strung and tangled together up inside the neck pumping precious oxygen to the ravenous meat boss of our dark brain. The jaw hinges smoothly open and closing, Devouring dead matter with its hidden teeth to sustain the body, And spluttering forth with its writhing tongue the cacaphonous symphony of speech and song and laughter. Around the top, hair grows neatly like grass in a field, softly tossed about in the open breeze. Behold the gelatinously jeweled eyes, darting sentries of light and shadow in an influx of images and colors. And forget not the ears, rubbery and coiled appendages amplifying the slightest sounds. What praises cannot be sung about the human head, mounted on our shoulders like a jabbering and demented emperor of its own ever-surprising realm."
Fast Car Lyrics by Tracy Chapman "You got a fast car And I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero, got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something Me, myself, I got nothing to prove You got a fast car I got a plan to get us out of here I've been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money Won't have to drive too far Just across the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs Finally, see what it means to be living See, my old man's got a problem He live with the bottle, that's the way it is He says his body's too old for working His body's too young to look like his Mama went off and left him She wanted more from life than he could give I said, somebody's got to take care of him So, I quit school and that's what I did You got a fast car Is it fast enough so we can fly away? Still gotta make a decision Leave tonight, or live and die this way So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone You got a fast car We go cruising, entertain ourselves You still ain't got a job So I work in a market as a checkout girl I know things will get better You'll find work and I'll get promoted We'll move out of the shelter Buy a bigger house, live in the suburbs So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone You got a fast car I got a job that pays all our bills You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids I'd always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere Take your fast car and keep on driving So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone You got a fast car Is it fast enough so you can fly away? You still gotta make a decision Leave tonight, or live and die this way." Source: Musixmatch Songwriters: Tracy L Chapman Fast Car lyrics © Purple Rabbit Music
Beverly Hills By Weezer "Where I come from isn't all that great My automobile is a piece of crap My fashion sense is a little wack And my friends are just as screwy as me I didn't go to boarding schools Preppy girls never looked at me Why should they? I ain't nobody Got nothing in my pocket Beverly Hills That's where I want to be (Gimme gimme, gimme gimme) Livin' in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills Rollin' like a celebrity (Gimme gimme, gimme gimme) Livin' in Beverly Hills Look at all those movie stars They're all so beautiful and clean When the housemaids scrub the floors They get the spaces in between I wanna live a life like that I wanna be just like a king Take my picture by the pool 'Cause I'm the next big thing Beverly Hills That's where I want to be (Gimme gimme, gimme gimme) Livin' in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills Rollin' like a celebrity (Gimme gimme, gimme gimme) Livin' in Beverly Hills The truth is I don't stand a chance It's something that you're born into And I just don't belong No I don't, I'm just a no-class beat-down fool And I will always be that way I might as well enjoy my life And watch the stars play Beverly Hills That's where I want to be (Gimme gimme, gimme gimme) Livin' in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills Rollin' like a celebrity (Gimme gimme, gimme gimme) Livin' in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills Beverly Hills Yeah, Beverly Hills Beverly Hills Livin' in Beverly Hills"'
Beneath The Sweater And The Skin "How many years of beauty do I have left? she asks me. How many more do you want? Here. Here is 34. Here is 50. When you are 80 years old and your beauty rises in ways your cells cannot even imagine now and your wild bones grow luminous and ripe, having carried the weight of a passionate life. When your hair is aflame with winter and you have decades of learning and leaving and loving sewn into the corners of your eyes and your children come home to find their own history in your face. When you know what it feels like to fail ferociously and have gained the capacity to rise and rise and rise again. When you can make your tea on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon and still have a song in your heart Queen owl wings beating beneath the cotton of your sweater. Because your beauty began there beneath the sweater and the skin, remember? This is when I will take you into my arms and coo YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING you've come so far. I see you. Your beauty is breathtaking.'~ Jeannette Encinias
“Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt -- marvellous error! -- that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.” ― Antonio Machado Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
"Censors are dead people set up to judge between life and death. For no live, sunny man would be a censor, he'd just laugh. But censors, being dead men, have a stern eye on life. That thing's alive! It's dangerous. Make away with it! And when the execution is performed you hear the stertorous, self-righteous heavy breathing of the dead men, the censors, breathing with relief." -- D.H. Lawrence
The Boy In The Bubble By Paul Simon "It was a slow day And the sun was beating On the soldiers by the side of the road There was a bright light A shattering of shop windows The bomb in the baby carriage Was wired to the radio These are the days of miracle and wonder This is the long distance call The way the camera follows us in slo-mo The way we look to us all The way we look to a distant constellation That's dying in a corner of the sky These are the days of miracle and wonder And don't cry, baby, don't cry Don't cry It was a dry wind And it swept across the desert And it curled into the circle of birth And the dead sand Falling on the children The mothers and the fathers And the automatic earth These are the days of miracle and wonder This is the long distance call The way the camera follows us in slo-mo The way we look to us all, oh yeah The way we look to a distant constellation That's dying in a corner of the sky These are the days of miracle and wonder And don't cry baby, don't cry Don't cry It's a turn-around jump shot It's everybody jump start It's every generation throws a hero up the pop charts Medicine is magical and magical is art Think of the boy in the bubble And the baby with the baboon heart And I believe These are the days of lasers in the jungle Lasers in the jungle somewhere Staccato signals of constant information A loose affiliation of millionaires And billionaires and baby These are the days of miracle and wonder This is the long distance call The way the camera follows us in slo-mo The way we look to us all, oh yeah The way we look to a distant constellation That's dying in a corner of the sky These are the days of miracle and wonder And don't cry baby, don't cry Don't cry, don't cry."
