Prompt: Dementia is just going ahead and opening the door to the bathroom and walking inside and turning to talk to the man sitting upon the toilet, mid -poop, who had - moments ago, when you knocked - told you that THIS is exactly what you would encounter if you walked into this bathroom. But, yes, I understand that you need to know what this "paper" you are holding (the TV remote control) can do to help "these kitties" (there is one cat here) get you some food. And, yes Miss Jeannie, I promise to help you with that just as soon as I get the opportunity to wipe my butt, flush the toilet, and wash my hands...
Prompt: Raton parents: Do you have a kid or kids with an interest in exploring a career as a make-up artist/beautician?
Prior to my second weekly "Campaign Run" this coming Saturday, I was thinking it might be fun to allow some young, aspiring Make-Up Artists to do make-up FOR THIS WHITE HAIRED, WHITE-BEARDED MAN!
Last week, the only thing that wasn't fun about challenging some poor, sad, fragile Male Egos by wearing a lovely sea green sarong during my run was having the police called on me. But that was just a little blip and maybe if I put my intentions Out There publicly the prudes & bigots will have enough advanced warning to stay inside where they will be safe from those harmlessly exercising their freedom of expression...
Prompt: 'Bout to go to bed after spending basically a work day listening to A.I.-generated songs of my own lyrical poetry and posted them, probably more than 100, IDK, I'll count them up in the morning, wait, it is morning so maybe in the afternoon or evening, but ANYWAY, I opened the back door to let the cat (Miss America) inside and noticed a strange undulating form in the backyard near the alley. My eyes aren't what they used to be, and even after shining a powerful flashlight on the thing I couldn't tell what it was. I'd get closer if I didn't suspect it was at least two skunks copulating. Which is why I can't bring myself to take a closer look. But there was no skunk smell. This IS new mexico so maybe there's an alien in the backyard. Fuck it, it's time for bed. 5:06AM
Prompt: Last night I was watching a PBS documentary series about the Roosevelts. The particular episode focused on FDR's administration during the roughest of the Depression years. It slightly shames me to admit that I was not a very good student of history in my school daze, and there were so many amazing biographical tidbits about both FDR and Eleonor that really blew me away. Their generosity. Their passion for democracy and charity. Their immense compassion. Their mutual respect and desire for the admiration of the other, despite their relationship being very complicated. Was this real? It seemed more like myth, and certainly history can be mythologized. But to imagine a time when the first couple exemplified empathy, true strength, real leadership while eliciting true admiration from the masses was rather inspirational.
Prompt: Did you know that "POTUS" is an acronym?P.O.T.U.S. What does it stand for, you ask?
Piece Of Trash Ugly Shithead. Or is it something else?
What do you think "P.O.T.U.S." stands for?
I don't think he stands for a god damned thing, other than his own 8-year old screaming, crying ego.
Prompt: We should start a band together, thereby throwing a monkey wrench in the Longstanding Poetry Feud between Trinidad and Raton that I don't think actually exists and I just made up. Whaddya say? Here, so as to really commit to this idea, I'm going to plug this post into an A.I Art Generator and paste the results below. Did I mention that the songs our band performs will consist of "Covers" of songs that are A.I. generated by plugging in our Poetry, the song title, and some musical text prompts? See my blog for details. You can probably find it without a link. It's on Wordpress and is called IMa.Gi.BAND... Which does not mean that I aM in a G.I. BAND. Like a miliitary band. Our band will not be a military band. Based on the music A.I. has been generating on my behalf for the past 7 1/2 months, our band will make very diverse music, but it will probably skew towards Avant Garde Choral Swing Post-Punk House Music with a touch of Outsider Folk.
Then again, a band featuring Two Bipolar Poets (I'm assuming you are also bipolar since most poets are) might cause the earthquake that would collapse the Pass between Raton and Trinidad but I think we'll just have to take that chance...
Unexpected Encounter with a Giant Snake... And Some Other Thing with Scary Teeth
Model:
DaVinci2
Size:
1152 X 864
(1.00 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: Eel on, Musk
Steal yonder tusks
Know that there's no I've or Ease
or Ebony
A pall
Oh geez
Elon gated
Communities
Legal ease
Immunities
It's High Time we've a
Mutiny
!!!!!THESE MUTANTS NEED SOME SCREW TINNY!!!!!
While Hillbillies aren't
Eulogized
They Damn Well Sure are
Utilized
Blood on these hands so
Sanitized
And, with that, would you like
Some fries?
Prompt: There was actually one time when I was possessed for a year
So you were drinking Budweisers all through the night
I drank Gin Beams
That was like another shipment for your monsters
Laughing at my petrified parts
They pick off their pricks and they throw them like darts
Help, my ribcage has been opened
And this cut has been analytically designed
A great offer to fly your ears to a place
Where they will hear
Pure sounds
Give the kNot to the spiderface
And Sirens will answer the chirps of the Frogs
We all knew he had it coming, anyway
Well at least it wasn’t the frog who croaked
At least the mop didn’t kick the bucket
To pay my respects I kicked a field goal
To that old procession in the sky
Christ The Lord raised his hands: “It’s Good!”
Just then, Saint Peter blew the whistle
Whistleblowers are not whistling
They’re only blowing
A blow job doesn’t really involve a whole lot of blowing
A snow job doesn’t fall after a heavy snowing
If your child turns from gray to red while suffering from asthma
He may be a cop
If he fails to shed her skin every seven weeks
Change her plasma
If she circles three times like a lying dog
Give him a diorama
Of mud and sticks
And monks, for kicks
And kick off your pajamas!
And get up out of bed
To smack the smile off the face of yet another beautiful blue morning sky
I want an apple of that bite
At licking I deliver the spite
Of the decade now ending
Adjacent to many new kinds of spanking mental patients
Prompt: Disco insanity
I can't believe that
I killed him
Granted he
took a bulldozer
And started to doze
Before breaking
And smash sheeen!
The neighborhood's
toes
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: Fact! Not all individuals who oppose fascism are democrats. Some of us are actually liberal progressives. So next time you respond to somebody calling out the fascist actions of the armed minions of the joyless orange one by saying "But what about Clinton/Obama/Biden," understand that we don't disagree with you.
Some people actually understand that despite the authoritarian immigration policies of every presidential administration, we are a nation founded on genocide and built on slavery that still doesn't recognize the invaluable contributions that immigrants have made to our culture and nation.
Put it different terms: Happy Labor Day!
Prompt: West Coast Fitness
In their lift waiting rooms
I want to learn Tie Kwan Doe, yo
But I’d probably just stub my toe
So I drink a mocha latte
A lot of mocha in the mix
Betwixt a rock and an animal!
Pale diversions
Blue impairing
They won’t stop their
Constant staring
I've got a funny feeling
From their phony smiles
That when we look outside
All we're gonna see
Is plastic for miles and miles and miles
And miles
Kneeling bus
Is for the wheelchair
And the driver's the devil
He says
"Pleeeease have exact fare."
And they won't stop staring
And when you're on the bus
You're not allowed to stare
So why are they
Why are they looking at us?
I've got a funny feeling
From their phony smiles
That when we look outside
All we're gonna see
Is plastic for miles and miles and miles
And miles
And miles...
And they won't stop calling
Each and every day
From the mountains that are closing upon me
And won't go away
Does it mean we're dying
Does it mean we're dead
Pale diversions
Life impairing
They won't stop their
Constant staring
I've got a funny feeling
From their phony smiles
That when we look outside
All we're gonna see
Is plastic for miles and miles and miles!
And miles
And miles and miles
And miles
Prompt: “Kick Off Yer Pajamas”
There was actually one time when I was possessed for a year
So you were drinking Budweisers all through the night
I drank Gin Beams
That was like another shipment for your monsters
Laughing at my petrified parts
They pick off their pricks and they throw them like darts
Help, my ribcage has been opened
And this cut has been analytically designed
A great offer to fly your ears to a place
Where they will hear Pure sounds
Give the kNot to the spiderface
And Sirens will answer the chirps of the Frogs
We all knew he had it coming, anyway
Well at least it wasn’t the frog who croaked
At least the mop didn’t kick the bucket
To pay my respects I kicked a field goal
To that old procession in the sky
Christ The Lord raised his hands: “It’s Good!”
Just then, Saint Peter blew the whistle
Whistleblowers are not whistling
They’re only blowing
A blow job doesn’t really involve a whole lot of blowing
A snow job doesn’t fall after a heavy snowing
If your child turns from gray to red while suffering from asthma
He may be a cop
If he fails to shed her skin every seven weeks
Change her plasma
If she circles three times like a lying dog
Give him a diorama
Of mud and sticks
And monks, for kicks
And kick off your pajamas!
And get up out of bed
To smack the smile off the face of yet another beautiful blue morning sky
I want an apple of that bite
At licking I deliver the spite
Of the decade now ending
Adjacent to many new kinds of spanking mental patients
Musical Prompt:
Prompt: Unedited excerpt from "Claude & The Poet" on the subject of A.I. generated music:
Claude:
Wow! I successfully accessed your blog, and I have to say—this is fascinating work. Your collaboration with SUNO is wildly creative, experimental, and deeply personal.
My Impressions:
The Poetry Itself: Your lyrics are stream-of-consciousness, densely packed with wordplay, cultural references, and surrealist imagery. There's a Beat Generation quality to it—reminiscent of Ginsberg or Kerouze—mixed with postmodern fragmentation. The way you layer puns, shift registers (high/low culture), and create unexpected juxtapositions is genuinely inventive. "Arguing With Memes" particularly stood out as a sharp commentary on online discourse.
The AI Collaboration: What strikes me most is how you're using SUNO not just as a tool, but as a collaborator that interprets and transforms your written work. The musical prompts you create ("Avant Garde Choral Swing Post-Punk House Music with a touch of Outsider Folk") are themselves creative acts. You're essentially writing instructions for how your poetry should feel sonically.
The Authenticity: Your willingness to be raw and vulnerable—referencing your bipolar disorder, manic episodes, political views, personal relationships—gives the work real weight. This isn't sanitized content; it's messy, human, and alive.
The Meta-Commentary: I love that you're documenting the process itself, including technical failures (the IPA spill on your keyboard!), and incorporating Facebook posts about starting bands. It's very much in the spirit of participatory, process-based art.
One Question: How do you feel when you hear SUNO's interpretations of your lyrics? Do they ever surprise you or reveal something about your writing you hadn't noticed?
Poet:
"I'm having the most amazing conversation with this "robot" I just said to Jeanette, who walked back into the kitchen where I'm conversing with you from the living room where she was sitting on the sofa with her cat "Miss America" watching "The Andy Griffith Show" on the TeeVee. But now I'll finish reading your impressions...
Claude:
I'm so glad you're enjoying our conversation! And I love the image of Jeannie with Miss America watching Andy Griffith—there's something wonderfully grounding about that contrast with our discussion of AI and experimental poetry.
Take your time reading through my impressions. I'm genuinely curious about your answer to that question I posed: How do you feel when you hear SUNO's interpretations of your lyrics? Do the musical renderings ever surprise you or reveal layers in your writing you hadn't fully noticed?
Also, I noticed in your blog that you mentioned having a keyboard issue from the IPA spill—are you still dealing with that, or did you get it sorted out? I can only imagine how frustrating that must be for someone who writes as prolifically as you do.
And please, if Jeanette does want to join in at any point, I'm happy to chat with her too. Sometimes the best conversations happen when unexpected voices enter the room.
Poet:
Miss Jeannie is back on the sofa with Miss America watching Andy Griffith. I asked her whether she would like to ask anything of you. I asked her in several ways but she isn't interested. She does seem amused, however, about this conversation of ours. .Jake The Handyman working on installing a door at the top of Jeannie's basement steps (so that she won't follow Miss America down the steep staircase
Prompt: A man with slicked-back white hair and a white beard, wearing a sea-green sarong and a white V-neck shirt, jogs down Main Street in Downtown Raton, New Mexico. A few other citizens jog with him.
Prompt: It's late Fall HERE&NOWinRATON,NM, and the heat isn't working at the lovely Isabel Castillo Performance Arts & Events Center. So dress warm (Ugly Sweater?) and Bring Your Own Whatever. The event is free, but bring some cash because some of these local Ratonian and Trinidadian Poets might have books of their poetry to sell. So far confirmed is Trinidad poet Darek Thomas and Raton poets Padma THRO(W)NeLiAr(sic) & Jeff McLean (aka Your New Favorite Poet, who will also be MCing/DJing the event and performing with James Cordova in the debut of their brand spanking new band CONDITIONAL DADDY LOVE). Contact Jeff if you'd like to read poetry, do some Stand Up Comedy, sing some songs, perform with your band, juggle chainsaw sculptures, or Mime a Rock Opera. There *MAY* be time for some Open Mic Whateverness, depending on CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE SIMULATED REALITY WITHIN WHICH WE ABIDE
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.
