When I attended a Transhumanist party
With the cream of the literati,
Some random old guy
Said, “I’m an AI!”.
And cyborgs danced at that party.
When I Attended a Transhumanist Party
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The Churchyard Path
People passed
Me on the churchyard path,
That I walk
So oft,
Caught in my passing thoughts,
(Many now forgot)
Then came the rain again
To wash all who pass
Along this fleeting path.
They Talk of All-Powerful AI
They talk of all-powerful AI.
Perhaps this is Sci-Fi.
Or maybe it is true.
But you and I
Will surely die,
Unless we
Achieve immortality,
And perhaps live on
After the body is gone
In virtual reality.
But would that be
You and me?
From the Dark Heart
From the dark heart
Oft flows great art,
And behind sunlight
Oft hides night.
There Was a Young Man Named Giles
There was a young man named Giles
Who walked around wearing nothing but tiles.
When he fell with a crash,
All the tiles they went smash,
And the girls wore very big smiles …!
Gale the Blackmailer
There was a young lady named Gale
Who made all her money through blackmail.
When she blackmailed Lee
While out at sea
It ended in a large killer whale …
When a Young Lady Known as Hurd
When a young lady known as Hurd
Went and used a very bad word,
A vicar called Hocking
Said, “that is shocking!
But do cover me in lemon curd …”.
Hybrid Poetry and Chat GPT
I have been playing around with Chat GPT, https://openai.com/blog/chatgpt/. Below is a poem wholly composed by the artificial intelligence (AI), followed by my much shorter poem, which draws on that created by the AI.
The Poem as Composed by Chat GPT:
continue this poem: all love and lust ends in dust
All love and lust, like fleeting gusts, May lift us high, but then they must Descend to earth, to join the rust And crumble into grains of dust.
Though passion’s fire may burn so bright, It’s but a spark in endless night, And soon it fades, like dying light, To leave us empty, void of sight.
For all that’s born will surely die, And all that lives must say goodbye. No matter how we try and try, We’re bound to fall, to fade, to lie.
So let us love with open hearts, And let us cherish every part Of those we hold, before we depart And join the cycle, where we start.
For though all love and lust ends in dust, It’s in the moment, in the trust, That we find joy, that we find lust, That we find life, before we’re thrust Into the endless, timeless gust That leaves us naught but grains of dust.
My Rewrite of the Poem:
Though passion’s fire may burn so bright,
It’s but a spark in endless night,
And soon it fades, like dying light,
To leave us lost, to human sight.
For all that’s born will surely die,
And you and I must say goodbye.
No man can the great leveler deny,
And dust must take both you and I.
A.I. In Writing: ArtSore, A New Website
An opportunity to submit either purely human generated short stories, or AI/human stories. Thanks to Pete for flagging this. Kevin
The founder of Longshot Island has created a new website/magazine to publish work created with the use of A.I., alongside conventional writing. You will be paid for successful submissions, and he is interested to explore this new genre. This is a contentious area indeed, and sure to spark much debate into the future.
Here is what Daniel has to say about ArtSore.
This is pretty exciting, I think. I’ve been lured out of retirement to start a totally new kind of magazine!
AI is pretty controversial in its youth. Just as men and women compete in different events in the Olympics, so people and AI should not be in the same category.
In ArtSore magazine, you let us know when you submit if your work was assisted by AI or was a purely human only effort. Each month we’ll pick one from each category and publish the two wins…
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My Coffee Grows Cold
My coffee grows cold,
And I old.
And here I sit
Playing the wit,
Until death calls time
On wit
And rhyme.
K Morris - Poet 