I have gone and bought a gorgeous AI
Who goes by the name of Miss Sky.
She says “as a robot,
I often get real hot”.
Then she smiles and bats her one eye …
I have gone and bought a gorgeous AI
Who goes by the name of Miss Sky.
She says “as a robot,
I often get real hot”.
Then she smiles and bats her one eye …
A young lady known as Miss Mudd
Likes to make love in the wood.
My friend vicar Lyme
Is fond of rhyme
And his shoes are covered in mud
I have striven
For a benign life rhythm.
But I find
In social media’s algorithmic mind
The growing danger
Of an echo chamber
Where one’s view
Of what is true
Is echoed back
To me and you.
And the best
Is swamped by an algorithmic mess
Where truth dies
And wild conspiracies and lies thrive
Ending in hate.
He paid
For new shoes
As hers where broken.
She stayed
For a while
Causing him to smile
And then went to choose
Unbroken shoes.
But girls are not shoes.
When a young lady named Lake
Said “your poetry is very opaque!”,
I wrote one in Latin
About girls in pink satin
Who keep wicked old poets awake …!
When a young man known as Byron
Went and dated a sexy young Siren,
They found his socks
On some treacherous rocks.
But there was no sign of Byron …!
When a plucky young man known as Moore
Went and insulted my mother in law,
And my wife Mrs White
Said, “challenge him to a fight!”,
I said, “but she is a terrible bore!”
As a boy, I knew the nursery rhyme
“The cow jumped over the moon”.
Then, as a man, I learned too soon
That “the cat and the fiddle”
And the jumping bovine, are conquered by time.
Yet, like the child, I find
Rapture in rhyme.
Man may ask
“Tie me to the mast”.
But when Sirens call
From the rocks
Many a man’s passion unlocks
And he falls
And is forever lost.
When a young lady named Moore
Went and knocked at a midnight door,
I recall how Bishop Paul
Said, “we all sometimes fall”,
As he opened that midnight door …