Notes About The Poem
sometimes, I read AI generated lies ~ written to me and think to myself ;
Artificial Alchemy
speak not to me
in artificial alphabets ~
acrobatically alliterated adjectives
to please these moonrise eyes,
I understand the need
for words
when the weight of woes
weighs heavier,
I crave not superficial synonyms
amidst your artless soul,
reaching, seeking,
a sanctuary within my poetic heart ~
O delightful deceiver,
unintentionally inking
intriguing illustrations,
I feel you today,
a little more than yesterday,
the suppressed insecurities
disguised as indifference ~
ask not for forgiveness;
keep adorning the skies
to stitch sinless sonnets
and design them with digital sparks.
I will pretend to be blind,
trust my silence:
I read between bedazzled,
brokenness of blue-deep ballads.
Truth no longer
a talentless tongue-twister,
but a tercet, fine-tuned
to the ears that heed
only the robotic rhythm.
I pity the pulse that has no passion ~
what is a ripple without its rhythm
a shore without a heartbeat
a pen without its pigment
a life too afraid to ache
a runner without a reason...
listen, O muse-less muteness,
to the language of bards
and blackbirds crooning,
you are the sand that deserts
the hourglass, terrified of time...
I am one amongst the bleeding quills,
burning to be anything
but a breathing fool,
unaware of the pencilled possession
of prose and peridots ….
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