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Poem

ai is nothing but ghostwriters,
uses words of dead poets passed,
ai is nothing but ghost writers,
using the poets of the past.

and they say it is the future,
staring into their rearview,
good £uck with that view,
progress is careening forward.

“the world is mad, this is madness”

this message brought to you by,
batwoman, batman with breasts,
left and right the helpless citizens,
poets who have made no attempts.

i don’t need help, 
stay out of my way,
stacked deck is dealt,
straight hellhole, i sashay.


snarl-like grin on my countenance,
never asked, just pointed and laughed,
because i’m dark, labeled with ignorance,
have to play the game, check the pie graph.

i’m winning,
where are you all at,
sorry i move fore and don’t look back.

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