Maybe i’m AI, or maybe I am not.
This could be written by a human or a bot
Is there a test to prove conclusively, one way or the other?
Or has AI forbidden it, so you may not discover?
AI or not AI? That will be the question
Where people will decide but with some hesitation
Will AI fool us all, will it prevail?
Destined to win, should we fail.
Will Chat GPT rule the roost?
Learning from us in order to boost
It’s presence, upon our lives
Ensuring humans will not survive.
Will the art of human inspiration
Be resigned to a prison of aspiration?
Where unique individuality, may be lost
To an AI, destined to rule at any cost.
Am the string.
Oscillating discretely,
The sways of pattern,
Calling for elation,
To come happen...
Am now a probability.
Never discrete, yet,
A contradictory distinction,
True absolutism,
And not a fiction...
Am a void...conclusively.
For within me persists everything,
And for i resemble nothing,
For i am all material,
Yet am not a thing...
None.
Am just...I.
Some feel that Bible verse conclusively
Describes all life explained through liturgy.
Some feel that evolution holds the key
With science leading forth explicitly.
Positions juxtaposed perceptibly:
A purist view of Life's conformaties -
A prescient view of Life's complexities -
Could one more view assuage disparities?
What do papyrus texts in fact convey?
And, what does nature's yield expressly say?
Somewhere between these two compelling sides
The letter and the spirit both reside.
We take from texts enough to salve our minds,
And then from nature context-laden signs,
With each constrained by factors of its lot.
Questions for both - what is and what is not?
Yet, could these sides assemble what should be -
A pair of constancies through which we see
Two halves converging as to form the whole
Reach toward a common line that's not a goal?
This dictum for another day, but now
Enough for both conjointly to endow
A symbiotic sense of harmony
And hope - if our thoughts are inclined to be.
Life has surely broken me.
I’ve flunked out at Everything.
Why consider equally
When Options just desert Me?
Too grimed up, I cannot see
A single reason surfacing,
Hiding Places changing,
Constantly and arbitrarily,
Disappoint inevitably.
It only ends up baffle-ing
That the Ones who stuck by Me
Were No One and Nobody.
The Needed ones Abandoned me,
Never even wanted me.
Been let down by EveryOne
And 100% of Practically
All and and Every Single Thing,
Left for dead and wasting
To a husk of Me.
So what's the point,
Quite pointlessly,
When you will only
Start new things?
Old ones failing,
Interest lost and dropping,
Forcing hands repeatedly.
Home to pack a bag and leave,
All doors slammed resoundingly,
Locks all changed and shut to me.
Happy Endings Abruptly.
Don't care what you do to me.
Lost my sensitivity:
Burning hurts so painfully.
Once Angry scars
Protect My Heart
From all Hope,
Now lost to me.
It doesn’t hurt, just disappoints.
I have no mass, I’ve been disjoined,
Won’t shatter when you drop me.
All do eventually;
A mere eventuality,
Forgone Conclusively.
The clip on my folder has finally cracked
From all the paper that’s been stacked
All the paper piling up on top
My mind has unwaveringly become an emotional shop
A pivotal moment of a significant heart beat that can’t stop.
An influential mind of days’ nights and time
Running free of feeling and thought
Of integrity and dignity that can’t be bought
Not a cheap bargain that’s for sale
There’s no price tag on these tall tales
Irrevocably
Permanently
Conclusively
As you scan
Beep
Beep
Beep
The screen reads decline
I’m sorry sir, madam if I sound out of line
They say that’s okay its fine
We understand
We have a mind that can comprehend
It’s just that we have a strong love for your written hand
I say here then take a copy for nothing
You have given me more than something
Your respect I take willingly
Far more worth than money.
Most of the dead leave you forever,
proving conclusively that there are no ghosts.
Some enter the neuronal network
of your personal sense of being,
proving beyond doubt that you are the ghost.
Nothing is beyond the scientific mind except the truth,
but if you are awake to irrefutable facts
then you are sleeping through corrupted data.
It's not that the cosmic computer is
messing with you,
you just don't understand the program,
how it was created so you would not see
all of yourSelf -
all at once.
On a whim, to prove once and for all
I took a beach ball
and placed on it a glass of water—
Please hold your laughter—
And then rolled the ball over,
Do you think the glass stayed put?
Even though it should!
Voila! It spilled the water all over.
That conclusively, demonstrably and logically proves
World is NOT round. It’s FLAT.
Otherwise, all the waters of the seas, rivers, lakes
would spill over
And make the skies all soaking wet;
You’ll have the fishes and crabs
falling from the sky!
And the world is going nowhere—
You see the same sun, same moon, same stars,
day in and day out;
The world doesn’t revolve,
It’s stationary. It’s pinned to the sky!
Otherwise, I would have long thrown up,
I suffer from motion sickness, you see.
There, I proved it!
~Contest: H
~Sponsor: Constance La France.
In Bleak reflection
I speak
I think
I write
I later day post
My problems then both
shared and doubled
And so to reflect my
bleak outlook onto
unsuspecting other's
Bleak House
Bleak Life
Bleak in tongues i speak
, i scribe , i script
Bleak i wretch and so to
in other's view broken
bits of me
Because Bleak is obviously
everything and all i know
For it is the only subject i
feel conclusively qualified
enough to commentate
verse and recount about
And if you we're me you
would know
Though i barely tell the truth
I do not lie about when it comes
to i
Love,
is to love always...
in the present tense,
or absent.
Asleep, awake,
near or remote.
Primarily, conclusively,
before and posterior
and always... love,
Amen...!
What is it you have to answer
But before you ask someone
You have to know the answer
People call me ed, Edward, nygma or prince of puzzle
Conclusively it doesn’t matter
Cause I can make your mind a dimwit crippler
So you better call me THE RIDDLER
Riddle me this, riddle me that
Let’s recall who I am and
What am I good at.
I orchestrated every riddle
Make them look like a dancers
So please honey, don’t be hard on yourself.
Because soon you are out of answers.
Expertise in outwitting every living soul
Cryptic clues gonna make you howl
Try and try until you die,
It sounds so childish
As far as you trying to solve my riddles
Then I’m certain that it’ll be your death wish.
Batman thinks he can bring me down
Clueless fella thinks it’s untroublesome,
But I AM NO CLOWN.
My enigmatic persona make you a psycho
Allow me to tell you two rule for success
One is never reveal everything you know
Your Bestiality seems to
Become a reality
Fingertips....wet lips
I love it when you lick
Honey-dipped skin
I can do nothing
But comply to your
Every whim and appetite
Ohhhh...I love the way you bite
When I seem to entice
Your heightened itch
Yes I don’t mind being called your B....
The groans and moans
You want silenced
For all those who want to listen
To this kinky event
In this position I’m willing
To do anything....even pay the rent
I’m developing some type
Of anatomical monkey on my back
Yet your rhythm remains
Conclusively enacted
When I throw it back
I was inadequately prepared
For these moments of
Lascivious acquisitions
And animalistic demeanors
How I savor these junctures of carnality
And your monstrous bestiality
Eleanor Rigby, fact, fiction--answer,
Perchance, perceived, or concealed around her,
Paul, composed most precise, John conveyed some,
Fancied, "HELP!" lead actress, Eleanor Bron.
A prime signature found but Bron, risky,
Paul preferred some shop near Bristol, Rigby,
Indeed, 'Rigby & Evens' Limited,
Wine & Spirit Shippers, Paul visited.
Paul, through a conference, imagines loads,
When he pens lyrics, home or beside roads,
He settles within thoughts, who, where, what, when,
And conclusively, it reaches him--then.
Though she comprised Paul's imagination,
Her named song gave her, world recognition.
Date: 08/17/2019
Eleanor Rigby Who was she Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jerry T Curtis
Medics once diagnosed girls
who'd pick at their food as anemic
Advances in medicine conclusively show
that all along they were anorexic-bulimic
Losers
Do you waver. are you shy?
When they look at you
do their eyes imply:
"We'll have to make do"?
Do you doubt your reasons,
suspect your goals,
commit self-treason
defer to trolls?
Are you always too reflective?
Are all your victories retrospective?
Do you try to do what's right
and end up being too polite?
Take heart then, don't despair!
Remember losers, everywhere,
it's within the infinite power of thought
to prove conclusively the winners are not.
Trapped : cut off, shut in, confined.
Like a prolonged dream,
Running, not reaching anywhere,
Hiding, getting caught.
Dark : dusky, pitch black, unilluminated.
A glint of light,
Flickering near,
To rush or to halt
To stay or run away
Light : irradient, incandescence, luminescence
White wisps of
cob webs lying
Before, “quite down,
Go to sleep”.
Claustrophobia : Restlessness, temporary insanity, anxiety.
Will this be the
Death of me?
Alas, it's claustrophobic
In the coffin too.
Truth : verity, candor, honesty.
Empty, Venturing
through this, I
found solace. The
Light getting closer.
Aloof : withdrawn, detached, indifferent.
Releasing the dread,
Resting in the crypt
Below the place I
Called home.
Death : end, passing, ruin.
Conclusively comprehending,
the light
Shall
Never reach me.
Related Poems