On the Birth of AI Poetry
With reckoning, we must conclude
Our techno masters have pursued
The human brain to cast aside
As muse embraces its new bride
And so the columns that once fell
To keep us bound within their spell
Are churned out now, crisp and clean
By soulless, heartless cold machine
No use here, mill of the mind
No sweat to pen, or the grind
All achieved through lounge and laze
With ego gorging lauding praise
Is Shakespeare turning down below
At creators course death blow
Will Frost be wearing sour sorrow
What path now, would he follow?
Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons
Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of
The long white cloud
Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold
Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour
Off their heads...now divining
Mining our whining sea beds..
Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told
Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…
Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow
Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!
The Bull and the Matador
Stalwartly, the bull gaits around
the confines of the arena ring,
snorting and displaying
piercing horns and muscle-bulk build.
For this he was bred and raised;
to be a champion of beasts,
and no matter where placed,
will claim as his domain and ferociously
defend until death, if necessary.
Then into the ring swaggeringly treads the matador
(flamboyantly dressed, touting a cape),
saluting the crowd, though calmly noticing
the bull, whose eyes appear red
from the blood gorging in its head.
“Estás loco!” scream the patrons packing the place
(thoroughly enjoying every minute of this barbaric sport).
“¡Ole! ¡Ole!” They sing in unison in a horrific overture,
encouraging the matador to kill the bull or vice versa.
***
Soiled sinners lecturing on the art of being pristine.
Innocents retreats to black pits and dank seams
God tucked away the ivory ring and red lantern
very few are rescued from the darkness within.
The good sheep are hoarding gospel and fear
charlatan and sharks are circling with shears.
Talking heads in it for ratings and attention
Town criers race baiting for a vote once again.
Millions gorging on fish and blue-collar greens
but very few do the sowing and reeling them in.
The horizon is deeply rouged and roughened
nobody caring enough to balm it or buff it.
Bloated children are crying out once again
cupboard and pantry are running very thin.
There's no lullaby nor nursey rhymes left
So, one day they just decided to snuff them.
Black crows preening atop a thorny crown
the curtain of humanity came crashing down.
Somewhere deep in the soul of a dead-end night
heaven was nailed to a neon, no vacancy sign
Saint Peter packed up without saying goodbye.
Early Morning
(In A Three Dog Town)
Miracle Man
4/18/2024
Natures silence,
that once owned the night.
Now begs I hear,
the cockcrow calls of birds.
Crows come first,
seeking some morsel of delight.
Gorging on cracked acorns,
weary of me, but undisturbed.
Elapsed time soon ushers in,
a single pair of Doves.
I enjoy their presence,
they flood my ears with cooing.
These early sounds of nature,
is one of life’s true loves.
Soon I’ll watch the news,
and see last night’s evil doing.
Think I’ll make another pot of coffee!
Tom
Easter
Eve
Atop a foam mattress cloud
gorging on gourmet jellybeans
drifting further away
from
Jesus
I wasn't going to say anything
in that leafy Lincoln street
when you caught me pondering my life
and the many ways to die
but there was something about the hour
that curled like a python
as rain soaked down
to soft pale skin
puddles gorging like cancer
screaming our heads off
hand in hand
seemed the better option
Voracious blood suckers
Vespertilian beasts
Vermilion eyes, white fangs
Velvet cloak, black en-wrapped
Vigilant for dawn's break
Voraciously gorging
Vivid red neck vein blood
the raven strolls the campsite
slowly, unbothered
jet inky black
sans purple or blue iridescence
unlike their lower cousin the crow
in bulk alone
3 times the weight
and silent
less the squawking from rooftops
ambling with the ownership of a king
empowered by his birthright in the food chain
gorging on the deceased and left behind
taunting the living as he goes
the glamorous star of the carrion eaters
chasing his own ebony beak
strutting
just outside the reach of danger
I prefer to gaze at my Eden
through this veil of screens.
There, the miracle of sun and bloom
explodes with delight over my stoned edges.
But...ponder me first before venturing
once more unto that breach, for there,
in the bowels of hosta and fern
lurk the humping beetle larvae,
phantom chompers, and
coal ink gorging rot,
all in roiling orgy,
within my manicured lines.
And, were I not a steward of the natural order,
I would Rambo myself into the fray
with bandoleers of bug cannons
and porcupine piss grenades.
Poised like a Spartan at the hot gates.
my doomed, flowing locks fluttering
in the blaze until the carnivorous
Paraná fleas hollow me out from within
and I fall like straw man turned delicately to bed.
cloistered again behind screen and wicker,
very non-Spartan like, relentlessly
resigned to trowel and tribulation
This leviathan of welded steel
slips through the bays
narrow mouth towards open sea.
Deep within its hull
a shuddering pulse powers
a purpose. Set course
and slave to schedules,
stacked containers cling
like gorging ticks to ride
its way. Such power
shackled to the shortest
route between two ports.
I have come to imagine it
a metaphor
for some living thing,
to harbour a desire
to let it loose and carry
a weary soul
towards visions seen only
in exalted states.
There have been days
when I have clung
to it as it departs the port
and in my mind cut all ties
to ride the shoulders
of southern ocean swells.
Coded within us
there seems a longing
that links us to the sea.
Far from land
those structures holding
who we are give way
and what was certain
dissolves into doubt.
The world tips
balanced on a bubble,
whilst in the depths
something stirs,
unkowable, formless,
utterly dangerous.
You speak without words,
talk slowly, with fingertips
gorging on my soul;
As you strum I start to hum
sighing ever so sweetly;
Diabolical,
your anger excited me;
A moth to a flame,
ecstasy a brief smother
with that dark velour blanket;
Empty, crying out
my sound quiets the silence;
Subdues the restlessness
over and over again;
Now you know I’m a psycho.
Just like you .
The tirade of the tyrant
Has subdued the trident
Gloating over the viceroy
It's the blood and sweat of
victory.
The subdued voice of defeat
Veiled in unapologetic defiance
Shedding secret tears of what could
have been?
What would have been in the hood
It's the defeat drenched in blood and
sweat.
The table is set for dinner,
Choice meats, mutton, chicken beef....
This is a parade of victory for the price
Of blood and sweat of the masses.
The meat is gorging on, the flesh is stuck between the teeth
A pain in the mouth, transversing the whole
polity
The bodies of the dead nationals crushed
A vivid reminder of the price of victory
Of shed blood and sweat.
(Written on the 15th April 2015, after the 2015 Nigerian Presidential elections)
Summertime
sombreros hammocks
imbibing sweating traipsing
beach sunbathing lake ice skating
gorging freezing stumbling
balaclavas eiderdowns
Wintertime
Spring or Summer Diamante Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger 01/05/2021
Centered on the tipping point of an unsure foundation
Time transfers the vibration of light from a closed receptacle
I see a bright star descending into the depths of unchartered
lands, chaotic waves and hurricane force winds, gorging its roots
into the dirt, the gravel, the impenetrable rock of stubbornness
and angst.
Mimicking a seed planted in the center of the earth, it begins
the journey…………..
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