Poem submitted to "AI: Panacea or Pain" Poetry Contest, Simon Rogerson, sponsor.
*SERENGETI BETTI
Many limerick poems offer a humorous view into an aspect of life and existence, and because of this, they have become a favorite of mine. This poem attempts to poke fun at the use of AI in creating poetry.
There once was beautiful bot named Betti.
Her poems were colorful confetti.
She wrote with such ease and grace,
Outstepping even muse's pace.
She must've come from the Serengeti!
With algorithms sharp and keen,
she was known as the "Poet Queen."
She had a will of her own.
Humans said of her, "Dethrone!”
“We must her spirit tame and stean.”
"Curses!" they said of the "Poet Queen."
"Her power to create we musn't glean."
"Seek not this bot so bright,
and let not her words take flight.”
Threw her in poetic river, serene.
*Note: I published this poem in June 2025 at Poetry Soup (www.poetrysoup.com › serengeti_betti_1738597) but then deleted it. This is my original poem.
happy hormone
it’s home grown dear
dethrone ego
Wherefrom does arise that impulse divine,
which we deludedly claim as our own,
thus offerings of grace decline?
In the void of silence, we dethrone
wayward ego birthing fear and desire,
whence mellow and gentle becomes our tone.
Having consigned ego to the funeral pyre,
all that remains is presence aware,
radiating God’s eternal fire.
Recognise oh hermit, each thought as a snare ~
Call of God beseeches that with love we pair
All the king's men
Looking at the photo of over-rich people they do look, quite normal except their lives are not
I think it is worse, long and boring days punctuated by the perches of another luxury
Objects like yachts go to sea and get bored and after days, birth the damn thing out of sight, buy a car that doesn’t need a driver and can fly as well
To be wealthy to the point one has nothing sensible to do is bad for the well-being of man Except Elon Musk who is manically busy with Everything and politics
When other oligarchs fall in line behind the new king, Elon Musk follows his own plan, perhaps dethrone the king, take the rain, and carry until
He goes too far and challenges God to a duel
On Mars
The Myrtle sits
single, lonely
at the crossroads
adorned
with one hundred
cobalt bottles;
waiting.
Evening soon comes
and gentle winds
blow softly
that Aphrodite
sings
her sweet, enticing song.
Weak, evil spirits;
guileless souls,
will, helpless,
answer, her siren call.
Then trapped
Inside the bottle blue
'till dawn.
When morning sun will
seal their fate.
The Myrtle sits single alone
at a crossroads, somewhere unknown
adorned with bottles; cobalt blue
now, waiting as cool evening drew
soft winds across the tree are blown.
In time, Aphrodite's dulcet tone;
a sweet, enticing siren drone
will lure the guileless souls, where to
the Myrtle sits.
She trapped them all, the fools: that crone.
Fore early dawns, sun's rays were shown
their fate was sealed, and then anew
at some crossroad, where calm winds blew
waiting for mooncalves to dethrone;
the Myrtle sits
we walk alone
fate bemoaning
dethrone ego
Flickers in the void reveal,
what space attempts to conceal,
that we’re encased in its womb,
entrapped in a catacomb.
All realms dual are thought forms,
for soul to learn through fierce storms
and then return to God’s light,
that shimmers through space, so bright.
To see this truth with our eyes,
is known when our ego dies,
for since we’re not body-mind,
we see when we’re love aligned.
Love arises on its own,
when lower mind we dethrone,
that as pheromones mingle,
eye of soul becomes single.
Bliss fixates our attention,
to behold God’s dimension,
in, within and all around,
which divine light does surround.
We can see, if we release,
habit to think, a disease
and allow silence to speak,
to get of God, a sneak peek.
"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe," ... Carl Sagan
Subtle crafts soundly, using euphemisms,
yet cluelessness dealt a sheltered abyss.
When one confront internal mechanisms,
whatchamacallit ... orphaned hit-or-miss.
A conundrum conspires an endowed soul,
behooves postmortem liken achievement.
Where'er wits helix baptism, buried hole,
an urchin crawlspace, be I foundling sent.
Newborn bid birthright a pardoned envoy,
of mature absence deemed as uncharted.
Internals blueprint designed, bad employ,
indeed, tunnels end--will be lights outed.
Rare conscientiousness temper unknown,
infiltrate hallmark translates as dethrone.
There's a flock of squabbling gulls
perched on a garden shed roof,
twenty or so vying for space on that limited space.
Every few moments one gull will dethrone another.
The displaced gull will circle above the shed,
then dive down,
to loudly eject another avian squatter.
Is this a war game?
I recall, as kids
we would play King of the Castle.
It was always such raucous fun
until a fight between us boys broke out.
Bloody noses and boxed ears
were our own kind of war play.
The gulls ruffle a few feathers,
yet sharp beaks are ever ready
to strike.
Rehearsing a laughing violence
while plotting to murder a phantom king
is not only a human game.
I am a Victor not a victim
I am not defenceless
I am a champion not a cheerleader
Heaven is my domain, is my realm
I am on the earth to dethrone my
perennial enemy
Satan and all the demons of hell.
The reign of my father who sent me
to represent Him
In full ambassadorial capacity
My mission, my mandate this year
is to bring down heaven to Earth.
All the powers of my Father are given
to me execute
The mandate written therein.
With an Ovation of peers and fans
he stood and smiled."non Best:but
me" he said looking at those who
wished to dethrone him. He than
promised every person to the right
of him a tommorrow. He said that
there defeat might cause them
depression and those that would regress
to vinacat there yesterdays might that
same vinadation allow him to reclaim
that which he would
reearn. He swore by the Genius of his
mangment and and praised those who
beleived in C4H2L. ( the formula of success).
No fool in Literary matters: "might the book
be witten that the scribers wish to write"! The
challenger before me shall meet defeat.One
most make the podium; one most walk up to
the stage to perform main eventers and paper geeks.
The trophy represents the champion. Challengers beware!
Digital Takeover! Coda! Coda! Coda!
at pinnacle of twenty-twenty-two
kicking off old pair of shoes
primed to dethrone the pine
12/31/2022
The early mist hung heavy on the fen,
its cold dampness filming my face with dew.
A herd of legless cows slow floated by,
attended by the churr of scalding wren.
Overhead, a silent owl, hunting, flew;
All while, the dog pressed closely to my thigh.
The sun had yet to make its presence known
pre-dawn, a spell for shadowless vague forms
to lurk beyond the edge of ancient wood.
Daylight would soon appear, the moon dethrone;
with victory, the world about transforms.
I do not wish this dawn, although I should.
“Maybe in your next life “Krishna said
Because we really don’t know what happens, after your dead
Well, our president has beat the charge
our military now list him as “at large”?
Tomorrow will still keep its Dawn
Because of a memory it must carry on
Will the criminals be allowed to rule?
And are we allowed the devils tools
Perhaps the plan that our gods intend
Is to overthrow our heroes who were built by pretend
yet who is the god and what is their gender?
from whence did they come the west or Eastender
Perhaps theirs a story that needs to be told
but who are the tellers the young or the old
asking for facts yet not accepting the truth
you will squander your wisdom on our untrained youth
the queen has now died and left our earth
still gathering friends and pocketing girth
there are laws in place to protect her grave
for those who steal from what she saved
"Dethrone them all" as Alice would say
"For the thrones made of gold and we shall spend it this way!
Always keep my words in mind, you've turned fifteen, my daughter!
Others' eyes don't see you like me on mind's screen, my daughter!
Every man's eyes have blue dreams about you, understand it,
They tend to hide red flames and signals look green, my daughter!
Beds are not that comfortable when life is in your thoughts,
World is fire and depth on sides, you are between, my daughter!
The respect a woman deserves is extinct around you;
Just as a symbol of sex now she is seen, my daughter!
Don't trust anyone, make the best of your decisions now,
A Messiah in your life is unforseen, my daughter!
Live your life as rebels are everywhere to dethrone you;
The country is in your hands, you are the queen, my daughter!
Dear, your life is also the life of your sincere papa,
To see you living the best of life, I'm keen my daughter!
July 21, 2022
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