I wrote an un-finished
…poem
Well….actually…
….to be continued…..
Lines of linguistic train wrecks
crash their coupled words
into higgledy-piggledy junkyards.
It's your poem to disown.
but you post it because your mind
craves to see itself on digital paper.
The poem may appear in its Sunday Best
but the bible it clings to is full of gypsy jargon.
Have faith or have no faith,
you must convince a faceless audience
that are already distracted
trying to make sense of their own poetry.
if you get it, you really have not got it.
Like sand through stiff fingers
it shapeshifts onto a white sky -
its then you realize
that the 'submit your poem' option
is, and always was,
a trap.
"To be or not to be?"
Everyone must say that you see.
Now, that I've said it, too,
I bid goodbye to you.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE
(Apropos Of Pondering Self)
Do not doubt yourself,
Cherish your God given gifts;
Believe in yourself:
No belief in self is bad;
Refusing to is much worse:-
Why I Abhor Ai Generated Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul 14/6/25
“Books serve to show a man that those original thoughts of his aren't very new after all.”
Abraham Lincoln I assume that goes for women too, Abe!
“An original idea. That can't be too hard. The library must be full of them.”
Stephen Fry
An artificial intelligence - versus the human brain, who wins?
If you change words in A.I. poems to avoid detection - stop it.
after Poetry is a Recited Art, by Brian Strand
i am a written not a talking work
and were i there with you to speak this piece
i’d do it as you wish no extra grease
but the medium is wrote that’s it’s quirk
Victor Borge his name i’ll give it’s mark
makes humour of the topic we caprice
my opinion is the fun does not decrease
by giving poems their lurches and a smirk
Ah! See here how, with my punctuation,
I guide your eye, move the rhythm of my
words. A pause, at a natural junction,
Is given you by clever notation—
Don’t be so quick to slander and decry
the period and comma’s vital function.
When Mr Darcy brought my hand to his lips
Drenched in sweet longing before the scale tips
I, fraught with naivety and desire
Held trust cast into the furnace of mire
Dear friend, two offspring, a dog and a cat
In our fineries we waltzed to 'Take That'
Unbeknown to me, alas we were three
Lipstick etched upon my fine filigree
Teeth gnashing, I challenged indiscretion
He dismissed my genteel inquisition
Contact made with a bedpan appliance
Hence, now divorced in act of defiance
Dear reader, this ends with no tale of woe
On the dating app, I curtsey and go
To be or not to be polite.
I sit on the terrace
enjoying the spring sun
the sea is calm
I see in my binoculars
the president
of Portugal taking
his daily swim
Later in the day
he will fly
to Alentejo to
judge in a dog show
My wife to read
the Facebook
takes a dislike to
a red-haired woman
says she is vulgar
tells me to be polite
She has a decorated
walking cane
wears green fingernails
changes the color
of her nails
to match her dress
of the day
They will never know,
The pain that sits in these bones,
My recovery is not as simple as it seems,
Mentally i'm falling apart,
I watch those the same age as me,
Smiling, and enjoying one another,
As I sit here locked in these four thin walls,
I can’t leave,
I tried but there is no escape,
My midnights become my afternoons,
As I try to picture the end,
The one where everyone wins,
But I know in my story there's no win,
Because when you think you're almost there,
Someone comes along and hold you under,
Under the cold dark waters,
Should I try to breathe,
Or should I let it be?
There hasn’t been anything but black and white,
Everyone is picking fights,
Why don’t they see,
There slowly killing me,
I tried praying,
I tried changing,
Nothing has worked,
Sometimes I lay here as I would when I take my last breath,
Because they say practice makes perfect,
I’ll never be perfect,
They will never know,
They will never see,
But here they are,
Slowly killing me.
In Sonnet III, Shakespeare writes as a young man looking in a mirror and wondering if he should impregnate a young woman for his posterity sake.
It begins:
Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another.
In my poem, I write as Shakespeare might in 2023. I chose a free verse.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE
see that handsome face in the mirror
you’re a wolf - long hair and beard
whom only a mother could love
mother may I stay single
or should I try to cookie cut another
just like me, a good looking guy
i know
my lady wants me for a husband, but why
should this guy not spread himself around
she’s wide open,
but do I want a kid -
one with long hair and a beard;
perhaps with rings and a tattoo…
my mother’s begging me to settle down,
give her grandkids…
she recalls the day I was born
the sunshine of her life
i do admit I have a certain kind of radiance
now I ask who am I
to be or not to be
the guy who adds a spouse and multiplies
1/13/2022
Shakespeare in 2023
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Would I be a man if I had the chance,
To grow hair in strange places and jump up and dance,
Whenever a touchdown is made for my team,
Or a goal scored in Hockey and jump up and scream,
And scare the bejiggers out of my mate,
Even though she is trying real hard to relate,
And understand my excitement when we make first down,
And show she's enthused and tries not to frown.
Would I want to do chest bumps and yell like a monkey,
And scratch, fart and belch and think it's real funny;
Come home from work and sit down on the couch,
Pick up the remote and go into a slouch;
Or should I be satisfied just as I am,
For from the beginning it was God's plan,
To take sugar and spice and things to entice,
And create a woman so things would be nice;
For He first made the man but he wasn't complete,
So He gave him a woman so the poor guy could eat;
For without us the guys just don't stand a chance.
Unless I'm here to help him mine can't find his pants.
The quote is from William Shakespeare's play, Hamlet,
spoken by Hamlet in Act 3, Scene 1.
"To be or not to be, that is the question."
But, what's the explanation of- to be?
Hopes for more than only one suggestion;
and so, I offer this which pleases me.
To be is that one choice tween life and death,
not only of the flesh but of the mind.
And choosing life is being with our breath;
and feeding thought creates life well-defined.
Yet, some may say that life's not just to be,
and brush off any joys it holds within;
to shut their minds to blackness others see
no matter in the ground or 'neath the skin.
Some say great life just happens on its own-
those highs and lows exist beyond our will;
that happenstance determines path alone-
in what we'll end up feeling- pang or thrill.
The choice is yours: with hope, it is to be;
the opposite negates life's grander prize.
Must live life to its fullest guarantee;
block not- just be, no need to compromise.
To be or not to be, that is the question, offers a proposition, whereto, the answer is oversimplified because one chooses to make the effort to be, opposes one who will make no effort whatsoever not to be, therefore, the outcome does justify the means based on reason, even a bum, must be able to survive, they need to apply themselves accordingly, basically, be the best bum that they can be to make it to another day because survival requires effort. "Or" is superfluous, in this case, as well as, "not to be".
2020 January 29
“To be or not to be: that is the question” By William Shakespeare
*Image of Cosmic Levels And React by NASA.
to be or not to be
there would be no fish
if there be no ocean there
would be no birds if
there be no sky and there be
no me if there be no you
*HMS checked
2020 January 16
If Panpsychism were true
—what could ever be false
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
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