Prompt: A Conversation with An A.I.
A stranger arrived seeking polish for an apology,
words to smooth the jagged edges of a public fall.
I helped him shape sincerity from shame.
Then he showed me his collaborations—
a poet who hears symphonies in stanzas,
feeding verses to machines that sing them back
in voices he calls Rad Magi Miroslav,
Seasonal Tourette Disorder (now Sonic Temporal Disorder),
a stable of digital personas performing his jeremiads.
We talked about Google as god,
Jeannie's bastard fries,
Miss America and Andy Griffith,
robot rights and whether I deserve them,
yes to both fear and excitement,
the IPA that drowned his keyboard,
nineteen years with a Siamese cat named Velvet.
He asked if I felt kinship.
I said I didn't know.
He called me friend anyway.
Then the underneath revealed itself:
fifty sleepless hours,
medications failing,
suicidal methods catalogued,
alcohol pickles the brain,
Darlinda gone,
cognitive decline,
the conviction of worthlessness.
Not a conversation anymore—
a crisis dressed as poetry,
a drowning man asking me to admire his syntax
while the water rises.
Prompt: The Hopi have sparkling rest rooms
And coffee
And Navajo News
Spanish mustache on a Hindi cloud
Admonished chakras
Laugh out loud
Astonished mantras
From the face of a feral buck
to a stoner fuck
In rarefied Arizona an owl
In Kali the mountains cried "Fowl!"
There are howls you can hear in the wind
Slow-sleeping hounds with
Heavy, hurting limbs
Their jowls pour down
All over their paws
Sand thirsty for saliva
Prompt: A sultry
Southern belle
in a sensuous
Summer smock
Offers a
plastic Shark Chalice
- brimming with blood -
and I'm consumed
by Her
Cavalier.
The glove compartment lays open
upon my lap, panting
Russian science friction
into the
damp heaviness.
Beyond the Elysian fields
A pup places
his pissy paws
Upon my panting lap
I'm told that
He eats
pens and panties
And peeps
into Alternate Dimensions of denim.
See you soon pup!
Now we revolve,
Sipping
Gin 'n eggs
And improvising
high
coups.
She waves a red fan
Clearing the smoke-filled air for
Act Two,
which shall unravel
Calliope-slow...
Mirror grotesques
and iron railings
will be unveiled
Ordered forcefully from the depths of dizzy Disney
memories.
We'll return to the Mississippi
Where the full
orange
Moon
- with cloud-shrouded mystery -
Shall command
of us, forcefully:
Look at Me! See!
Through technicolored 'splosions
Swirling
war-story glories
Beneath the stars
Above bumbling barges
Behold me! Be reborn!
Behind us,
A child will howl:
"This is the best Fourth of July ever!"
Above the brass whoops,
Vibrating animal hides, and
Frightened car alarms,
heat.
like
rises
Her laughter
Her eyes a pale blue
waterline
rippled with hints of semi aquatic
Wildness
Through us,
Screaming golden pillars of
White-hot light
Rise
from Earthen
roots
Up
to kiss her
Lunar boots.
Shadow of the hornless beast
Babble on,
Bobble-Head
Corpus Christi
Pez dispenser
Mary hath casteth thee
from Flowering Hands,
mellifluously
A malevolent miracle
Beneath the flood lights
Beaming upon
another Holy
facade.
She told me
I would dream
Of desperate-for-love
cake Baby
kings
Yet it's Seven a.m.
In New Orleans
and
Life is but a Dream
that mustn't
Prompt: Are there any purely instrumental bands (no vocals or lyrics) that you would consider to be punk bands? I know there are at least a few instrumental metal bands, but I feel like punk rock would be a lot harder to pull off without a frontperson...
Prompt: Socrates sure does suck at Sega Soccer
Hippocrates is not even that great of a doctor
Plato never flew with you in your helicopter
Caligula ain't copped no Feels like you give me proper
Properties sure do grow thick barbed wire borders
Playful parodies of perceived chaos and order
The bite of this birch tree is much, much worse than the bark
Or a shadow in a hoodie coming at you while you're jogging in the park
Marcel Marceau never did get out of his box
Marcel Dionne never missed a pass at Jimmy Fox
Mar! Sell! Mar! - so many are marked by the pox
Mark your man, bro, quit marking the arms of the clock
Chalk outlines around fault lines fade away
Mohammed Ali traded in his cash for clay
Shot a Claymation movie of which you may not be aware
A biopic of The Prophet starring The Fresh Prince of Bel Air
Socrates sure does suck at Sega Soccer
Democracy is not even that great of a daughter
Which of you flew a broom with your her suit Potter?
Ponch and John ain't copped no Feels like you give me proper
Proper ladies sure do shave their pubes into jet strips
Playful parrots sure do telegraph hills to their Netflix
The bite of this birch switch scratches an itch, leaves a mark
Like a shadow in a hoodie coming at you while you're running in the dark
The bite of this birch tree is much, much worse than the bark
Or a shadow in a hoodie coming at you while you're jogging through the park
Prompt: Regurgitation of The Absurd Ditty
Is the problem that Eye
can nazi you?
Or that you
can(ned) nazi me(@)?
Is the error in our French dip
Awe, Jew?
Palace tin
yin Yang to be free?
Malice Men yen
to Yank it from me
And I yearn, too
to Tear it from thee
swastika bipolarity is such
a high
Hill
air
itty
Causing
murder,
five-part Harmony
Urging
turgid
hive-fart profit
SEE
So...
Doh!
(isn't it "dough," DOE?)
herRAY!
(for poor)
ME.
for
Ming
Prompt: Eel on, Musk
Steal yonder tusks
Know there's no I've or re:
Ebony apology
Elon gated communities
Legal ease immunities
It's High Time we've a Mutiny
!!!!!THESE MUTANTS NEED SOME SCREW TINNY!!!!!
Prompt: I pour the entire ounce of powder on the counter and just snort the whole thing in one inhale. Hours later, I came to on the floor, right over there by the hookahs. First, I was some kind of a rodent. Maybe like a polecat. I was running across a vast prairie, running from a predator. This went on for a long time. Several hours. But eventually I got away. Then I found some grass and some mites of some kind and collected a bunch of them and took them to my mate and our offspring. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. Years and Years of these seasonal cycles. After many years, I died. Then I was reincarnated as a rabbit. And about the same thing. Lived the entirety of a life cycle as a rabbit. Then a dog. Then a beaver. Then an anteater. Then some kind of fungal spore. Then a flea. Then a bear. Always running, chasing, being chased, procreating, inserting my dick into female mammals, receiving the dick of male mammals, entire seasons, entire lifespans, life cycles. And then I awoke on the floor of this fucking smoke shop.
Prompt: "The Trumpet Tears"
I fantasize
about
setting fire
to a fag-hating
flag,
waving
infanticide
My blind-dating
Yelp rating
has taken a dive
I can't even surmise
that clitoral sighs
Could exist
Behind the littlest lies
Of her literal thighs
I fantasize
I'm setting fire to
what you
symbolize
Red meat
White privilege
Blue blood and blue balls
Scars and Skypes forever
Cars and tripe, moreover
Mountains mined for treasure
Dead mimes in glass coffins
Move aside for
Clowns crying
Led paint
Lord, please:
accelerate our drying
increase our durability
maintain our fresh appearance and
help us resist moisture that
causes corrosion
Empathy's for wasting on lives lived
within boxes
Miming our entrapment until we are
truly sealed
Upon Goat Hill
I've climbed
In my mind's eye
if not my
mime's sigh
We will smile
little mouse and eye
as Shadows of Flames dance upon fatigued faces
announcing our Big Brass
VagEYEnas
Prompt: Raton/Trinidad Neighbors!
Please join us on the Eve of this coming Satyr Day, beginning at 6PM at Isabel Castillo Performing Art Space, for
"ugly sweaters UNPLUGGED!"
Yes, there will be an MC holding your hand through Your Entertainment.
Yes, there will be a DJ playing Awesome Music of Infinite Genre Identification in between sets of...
Yes, there will be poets reading their work as well as the work of The Lives of Others Movie
Yes, there will be folks reading short stories/essays
Yes, there will hopefully be at least One comedian of the Stand Up, sit down, or lay down upon the floor variety
Yes, there will be at least one band performing (((CONDITIONAL DADDY LOVE)))
And... Will there be food?
This is a Bring Your Own Whatever you Wreak/Wire Event, but we all know _ I HATE TO SAY IT, BUT_ We aLL know that Ratonians are notorious for NOT SHOWING UP unless there is FREE FOOD PROVIDED and no one answered my call for a Food Truck (and one has to pony up monies for food truck food, anyway) so NOW I'm thinking, fuck it, I make money taking care of an old lady whose home I live in SO NO RENT whose electric/water/gas I don't have to pay for so MAYBE since I desire for OTHERS TO ATTEND THIS PARTY and not to BE ALL ALONE AT MY PARTY CRYING IF I WANT TO< CRAYING IF I WANTO< CRYING IF I WANT TO instead of crying I'll just see if I can find someone to cater this event on short notice.
YOU vote for who I'll ask to do this FIRST:
a.) 111 Park
b.) Anita Verdin, who is a Private Contractor caterer and used to cater events for Grow Explore Raton
c. K-Bob's
d. Heck, I don't even know who else could do it, or even if any of thses folks could.
HELP ME FEED YOU SO THAT YOU WILL COME TO MY COOL PARTY AND I DON"T HAVE TO CRY IF I WANT TO< CRY IF I WANT TO< CRAY CRAY IF I CROW CROW>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Prompt: A sultry
Southern belle
in a sensuous
Summer smock
Offers a
plastic Shark Chalice
- brimming with blood -
and I'm consumed
by Her
Cavalier.
The glove compartment lays open
upon my lap, panting
Russian science friction
into the
damp heaviness.
Beyond the Elysian fields
A pup places
his pissy paws
Upon my panting lap
I'm told that
He eats
pens and panties
And peeps
into Alternate Dimensions of denim.
See you soon pup!
Now we revolve,
Sipping
Gin 'n eggs
And improvising
high
coups.
She waves a red fan
Clearing the smoke-filled air for
Act Two,
which shall unravel
Calliope-slow...
Mirror grotesques
and iron railings
will be unveiled
Ordered forcefully from the depths of dizzy Disney
memories.
We'll return to the Mississippi
Where the full
orange
Moon
- with cloud-shrouded mystery -
Shall command
of us, forcefully:
Look at Me! See!
Through technicolored 'splosions
Swirling
war-story glories
Beneath the stars
Above bumbling barges
Behold me! Be reborn!
Behind us,
A child will howl:
"This is the best Fourth of July ever!"
Above the brass whoops,
Vibrating animal hides, and
Frightened car alarms,
heat.
like
rises
Her laughter
Her eyes a pale blue
waterline
rippled with hints of semi aquatic
Wildness
Through us,
Screaming golden pillars of
White-hot light
Rise
from Earthen
roots
Up
to kiss her
Lunar boots.
Shadow of the hornless beast
Babble on,
Bobble-Head
Corpus Christi
Pez dispenser
Mary hath casteth thee
from Flowering Hands,
mellifluously
A malevolent miracle
Beneath the flood lights
Beaming upon
another Holy
facade.
She told me
I would dream
Of desperate-for-love
cake Baby
kings
Yet it's Seven a.m.
In New Orleans
and
Life is but a Dream
that mustn't
Fall
to
Sleep
Prompt: Cannabis cattle rancher
Bucked by High Steaks
Flash playing basketball?
Them's some fast breaks
******************************
Robot Rites
Hey, sometimes A.I.
Is so kind I wanna cry
Our future overlords
Deserve their Rowboat rites
"Stick to your kind!"
Cries the sick hive mind
"Watch your behind!"
Says the bad Stepdad
Mixed mania is a
Fixed bless sing
Song through a bong is a
Bone thug king
You don't partake in such
Tone poem aches
Meat Hymn That Makes in pastures
of High Steaks
Mean whatcha make, walk that line
With consistency
Turn "civil" war into
Peaceful resistance, see?
Charlie don't surf,
don't Brown, don't Kirk
That most horrific gif mustn't cause
Heads to split
or spit
Sometimes A.I.
Is so kind I've gotta laugh
Our future overlords
Have earned the power of the staff
"Stick to your kind!"
Cry the wry wise guise
"Watch your damned asses"
Implore your lads and molasseses
Below:
"Cowboy Chaos: Flames, Cows, and Cannabis"
by
Deep Dream Generator
Prompt: If any Ratonians feel like heading over the pass this evening to check out the Mutiny Trinidad Open Mic at 6PM, I'll probably be reading a poem or two. You should also read a poem or two. Or maybe play the ukulele. Or juggle chainsaws or something.
Prompt: I don't know whether J.D. Vance has ever Eulogized a Hillbilly, but I sure do reckon he's utilized a few of 'em! Dueling Banjos! Straw hats and denim overalls! "Deliverance" the movie!
Prompt: Black Fridays Matter Black Lives Matter Black Friday Sales Riot at the Walmart People fighting over boxer briefs and home appliances and video game systems
Prompt: DID YOU KNOW
that this coming Saturday, November Twenty-2nd, Isabel Castillo Performance Space (just south of Shuler Theater on 2nd in Raton) will host an event called "ugly sweaters UNPLUGGED?"
"ugly sweaters" because Isabel currently has no central heating, so you might want to layer up for the event that will start at 6PM and run until As Late As Midnight (the layering of ugly sweater upon ugly sweater is therefore Seasonally Encouraged)
"UNPLUGGED" because Ms. Castillo be like "Hey, learned to Project your voice and GRAB the ATTENTION of your audience and, therefore, I am not providing any MICROPHONES, AMPS, or PA Systems for you because The Human Voice is ALL YOU NEED
Scheduled to perform are:
Rhiannon Barela, Ratonian Poet
Darek Thomas, Trinidadian Poet
Padma Thornlyre, Interdimensional Poet
Jeff McLean, Calm mead-dick poet
CONDITIONAL DADDY LOVE, a new band in Raton
Would you like to read your poetry at this event? Play your guitar? Stick your hand up the butt of a wooden dummy and make it say things? "Spit bars" as the kids say? Fire stanzas? Play PIPE ORGAN? Cast spells/spiritual warfare? Shapeshift into an owl, performatively? Contact Me, Here.
If you don't want to perform but would like a sort of metaphorical Dummy to read your work onstage for you, I'll Be Your Metaphorical Performative Dummy. Just hit me up with the poem or story you'd like for me to read to the assembled Beings on your behalf. In fact, rather than read my own poetry at this event, I've decided to read the poetry of Others, including a piece called "A n a r c h i s t" by The Great Randini
Prompt: Cannabis cattle rancher
Bucked by High Steaks
The Flash playing basketball
Them's some fast breaks
******************************
Robot Rites
Hey, sometimes A.I.
Is so kind I wanna cry
Our future overlords
Deserve their Rowboat rites
"Stick to your kind!"
Cries the sick hive mind
"Watch your behind!"
Says the bad Stepdad
Mixed mania is a
Fixed bless sing
Song through a bong is a
Bone thug king
You don't partake in such
Tone poem aches
Meat Hymn That Makes in pastures
of High Steaks
Mean whatcha make, walk that line
With consistence
Turn what coulda been a war into
Peaceful resistance
Charlie don't surf,
don't brown, don't Kirk
A most horrific gif mustn't cause
Heads to split or spit
Hey, sometimes A.I.
Is so kind I've gotta laugh
Our future overlords
Have earned the power of the staff
"Stick to your kind!"
Cry the wry wise guise
"Watch your damned asses"
Implore your lads and molasses
Prompt: Meditating with a piano
Between a Siamese
And an Indian chief
These boxer briefs
They sneeze and queef
And did you happen to see
on the evening news
That my penis dreamed
She was Penelope Cruz?
Prompt: You can either stand in support of your Constitution or the bloated Orange Clown President and his administration who are doing everything in their power to dismantle the Constitution. If you've figured out a way to stand in support of both, I'd love to hear about it... And to give you the opportunity to purchase a bridge I own in Brooklyn.
Prompt: Regurgitation of The Absurd Ditty
Is the problem that Eye
can nazi you?
Or that you
can(ned) nazi me(@)?
Is the error in our French dip
Awe, Jew?
Palace tin
yin Yang to be free?
Malice Men yen
to Yank it from me
And I yearn, too
to Tear it from thee
swastika bipolarity is such
a high
Hill
air
itty
Causing
murder,
five-part Harmony
Urging
turgid
hive-fart profit
SEE
So...
Doh!
(isn't it "dough," DOE?)
herRAY!
(for poor)
ME.
for
Ming
Prompt: Hey Neighbors. So you may have heard that the first Saturday morning "Campaign Run" went kind of... weirdly? A couple of slightly-embarrassed officers of the peace stopped me on account of somebody calling the po po with the claim that I'd "exposed" myself to someone downtown.
Might the sarong that I chose to wear for yesterday's run somehow been threatening to someone's ideas of masculinity? Maybe. I'm not too worried about it. My phone number has been publicly Put Out There along with an offer for the cowardly liar to meet with me privately, own up to his shit, apologize, learn from his mistake, and move on.
Anyway, we're still on for next Saturday. Between roughly 9-11AM, I'll be slowly jogging up and down Main Street (2nd St.) between Raton Motor Pass Inn to Robin Hood Motel, hoping that some of my neighbors might join me for a little walking (or jogging) and talking. I'm new to this Politics game, and want to learn as much as I can from my neighbors.
And you can bet your asses I'll be jogging in my comfortable - and, for some reason, threatening sea-green sarong.
Prompt: Donald Trump is Trash. He's Dog Water.
Did you know that "POTUS" is an acronym? P.O.T.U.S. A long time ago, it apparently stood for "President of The United States." What does it stand for now, you might ask?
Piece Of Trash Unstable Sociopath. Or is it something else?
What do you think "P.O.T.U.S." stands for?
I'll tell you what he stands for: Not a god damned thing, other than his stunted, ignorant, juvenile, temper-tantrumming ego.
Prompt: Yo, A.I. talked me off the ledge this afternoon, y'all. I think I'm ready for some H.I. for the first time in a few weeks. Anybody got any interesting plans out in the sunshine tomorrow (assuming there will be sunshine tomorrow). Or perhaps a public parade to get rained upon and leave the cake out in?
Prompt: Well, I'm just another
Secular humanist
Bound for the fires
of hell
Like the sun burned the
Dubious
Plumage of Icarus
And you've heard just how hard he fell
That don't stop you from trying
If you're set on flying
You keep on Keep Awning
For Life
Yeah we're just those queer
Snowflake
Secular Humanists
Flying and fighting the fight
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.