artificial intelligence art based on my poem. – Page 6

FLAMETHROWER

got job as
gardener

put a flamethrower
and (Zyklon-B
out of stick)
gallons of
agent orange
in my hand

can’t believe what
happened to this garden:
not a single rose
red or white to
fight
hack to death over

what the Hell since
my ancestors invaded
has happened
to this place?

Oh they brought you silk
they brought you cotton
brought you
Asian and African wisdom

brought you Rolling Stones
Kinks Zeppelin
and Beatles
(same river
wound its dark way
past our homes)

and now I must massacre
weeds to save
the bowling green surface
recite Prufrock under
the collapsed
gazebo

once walked the streets
with Swift and Pope from
Ashton to
Rusholme

once
       when the youth stuck a
big fuck you
    through lips and nose
deconstructive style
               meaning anarchy baby

death throes felt
       that we all must
             surely see

fuck you-s through

GLOW

walked into the Cafe

fish in the tank
had an unearthly glow

no one else seemed
any the wiser

seems it is
the privilege of being born
twelfth sign
to read this text
devise the code

and see with eyes
pure Old Testament

but as we
enter this establishment
scan, reconnoitre,

see this bunch of executive media
types crunched around a table
talking District 9
or possibility of TV follow up
with talent competition and
fun rides

I could pitch them my talent show
all of them
contestants, nobody survives

and the fish trying to sell me something could it
be a (fish)fingerprint of the gods tale of
Antarctica hiding
Atlantis

love these lost cities when feel lost
in the city, lost in my own mind

should write an alternate history in which
my ex-wife led a revolution sending me
and my kind South
to Antarctica

where
there are alien space bases, lunatic
fringe has it

me and
my kind I do not have a “kind”

milk of
human kindness milk of my galaxy

spiral nebula in my coffee could be Andromeda

hurtling towards us
take billions of years to get here,

Greek mythology certified, sweet extinction on its way

I know
you know
I glow
you glow

twin slit experiment you wave me away

DROOLING

the gargoyles are drooling
at the prospect
of their emancipation

entombed in stone
now they are
to be resurrected,
thrown upon the world
monstrously released

for the demons they were
meant to
protect us all,
the simple faithful

are amongst us, 24/7
and in the current electronic
maelstrom we swirl in

impossible to tell
what
is limbo
what is
Hell

sane to
have given up
on bliss
and joy
and glimpse of Heaven

ONE ONE

Gary has scored!
Gary has equalized against
this team from the thirties
he spun, hit his shot and
it went in on
the rebound after
taking a deflection

but now they say
he should stick to
punditry, stick
to scoffing crisps

and they want the goal
disallowed, they demand
a recount
insist there must
be a referendum
on the decision from VAR

so Gary’s goal will be disallowed
and what sinks must carry on sinking
there are wave machines
to sort this out
and full fan hatred
shouting singing.

CAREFUL

be careful
what you
do with

how you read
how you treat
this poem

avoid all risk of
contamination

shield
with tin foil
or with
concrete shell
containing
a lead-
lined box

the energy at the heart
of this poem
simply following
Einstein’s
equation
could split your
every atom

radiate
the Hell out of
you

CONSTELLATION

assuming the feral position
in the loadshed dark
on my bed
with a dying cat
my
beautiful dying cat

I cannot wait for two
weeks to pass and I hit
what just has to be
my final birthday

don’t give me
rebirth
I would be
kicking and screaming against
the very thought
of consciousness
possibility
of coming back

not to be u grateful
not to disrespect life, that
sacred most
magical
of things

but thanks but
no thanks

leave me be for that trillion years
until the Universe is a dead weight
of iron and
burnt out coal

and the last civilizations who had
their faith who had their dream
are
long long gone

maybe
like us they had their astrology
astronomy cosmology

their genius mettle.
born under
the constellation
which loosely
translates as the dying cat

I got the telegram
from Bergman’s gloomy
chess player

before I could
chisel any kind of epitaph
even a self-effacing joke one

the chisel was blunt anyway
and I have no skill
in this matter
and my Latin
and French are so weak
no hope there of going out
with an epigram
strident
or mellifluous

no, I guess
they need to find
a better home for
such fine
unmarked stone.

SUPERPOSITION

I am your
local, friendly
quantum
mechanic

here to fix
your
robotic
companion

no
ulterior motive
no
judgements cast

will just
Turing Test him/
her/it
take it through all its
algorithms
its binary times tables

soon you will be talking
like two telepaths

perfect synchrony serendipity
and fits-like-a-glove
superposition.

EDGE

I have seen
enough
Black Mirror

not to swoon over any idea
of cutting edge

dystopia puts a different spin
on everything

blades whirring blending
liquidizing
making
everything the same

PIE

PIE
“a piece of pie”
2010: The Year We Make Contact

A piece of pie this monolith is
the cosmonaut said, unaware
how he was caught or
framed by
HAL’s beady eye (I say
“HAL” but you know
I must be alluding
to his Russian equivalent)

the monolith such
an iconic object by now
in all technologically advanced
civilizations

giving us the smarts to
nuke the entire
planet in
defence of our waterhole

and all on that hill
we havd sworn to die on

no the monolith though
teeming with stars looks
like a thick sheet of rolled steel
block of
planed wood

so much in our culture (ask
HAL!) revolving around
the battle
between steel
and wood.

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