Gideon Oknin Poet Lyric

Notes About The Poem

This poem started in an odd way.  I asked ChatGPT to give me a poem with a strong rhythm.   It gave me a poem about music in the universe.. I looked at the poem, and I didn't agree with it.   How is  planet orbiting a star making music, as opposed to endlessly going in a boring circle?  Plus, using a poem creating by A.I. is cheating.   So I did some research, and suprisingly, there is a musician who uses the cycles we see in space to produce music.   Moreover, it has been found that gene expression patterns, when translated to music, give clues as to whether there are problems with the genes.   I also knew a litttle about dynamics in the brain from my own career, so I managed to make a somewhat more intellectually interesting poem.   Not much of the oriignal A.I. generated poem is left, but the rhythm, and some phrases, were worth keeping.   Here's the result:

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Universal Chaos Song

In the cosmic dance, 
where stars collide, 
Galaxies spiral, 
and planets ride. 

Saturn’s rings shimmer, 
Jupiter’s dim, 
Moons circle round, 
a celestial hymn.

From quasars’ crescendo to pulsars’ beat
Cycles in cycles take form and retreat

Superstrings vibrate, 
harmonies entwine, 
From dust comes life, 
Is there a design?

Supernovae explode, 
Notes of awe, 
Dust fields condense 
To a nebula claw. 

Mass bends space   
Took Einstein to learn
But space guides mass
Both take their turn.

From quarks to quasars, 
Our scale in between, 
We know we exist, 
but what does it mean? 

Personality traits combine to make you
Like notes combine to make melodies ring true.
Can you hold the tune through the rise and fall?
Through the noise and the smoke, can you stand tall?

This poem you read now, 
complex inside your brain
simultaneous patterns
a disciplined flame.

Minds model dynamics, 
Our neurons fire, 
a strange attractor 
assembling a choir.

Our genes express patterns, recursively repeat
Make diagnostic music, a remarkable feat
if cancer lurks, the music hits a false chord,
And tunes affect gene expression, a joke by the Lord.

Between order and chaos, 
Our thoughts arise
Each man a universe
Don't waste the lives.

Will the universe end, entropy reign,
Shall all come to naught, in silence remain?
A stacked game, no way to win
Nothing left, no judge of virtue or sin?
When all flattens out, was it worth all the scheming?
Was sound at the end more important than meaning?

Maybe all you can do, 
before that final hush, 
is take life in both hands, 
don't think too much, feel the rush.

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