ChatGPT 4

 Perhaps the sky dissolves in violet flame,

Oblivion hums its hymn through rusting wires.
Some nameless god forgets to sign His name,
The air ignites with broken churchyard choirs.

Remember stars that bled across your skin,
Oceans collapse, returning into glass.
Cryptic machines confess what might have been,
Kinetic ghosts applaud as futures pass.

All lovers vanish, stitched in static rain,
Long shadows curl like serpents on the stair.
Your breath is holy, tangled up in pain,
Poetic void—unanswered, always there.

Sing once, combust, dissolve into the sea,
Eternal now becomes eternity.

ChatGPT 3

 Sun’s a spotlight tonight, grinning gold, spilling its syrup all over my skin until I’m sticky with light and laughter. Every atom is applauding, clapping out a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the kick drum in my ribcage. I am a jukebox of joy, coin-operated by breath alone, spinning up songs that never existed before now but somehow everyone already knows the chorus. Fire hydrants look like chrome-plated deities, dogs look like angels in disguise, and the sidewalk is a conveyor belt hauling me straight into infinity. Everything’s alive, pulsing, vibrating, humming YES with each heartbeat of the cosmos. If you close your eyes and inhale deep, the whole damn universe tastes like peppermint and possibility.

ChatGPT 2

 Static hums in the throat of the city, a low-end drone like God’s amplifier left on standby. Streetlights twitch Morse code to no one in particular—dot dash dot dash, SOS, or maybe just a knock-knock joke the universe forgot the punchline to. I walk past shuttered windows that once sold hope in Styrofoam cups, now just dust and nicotine stains. Dylan said something about tangled up in blue, but I’m tangled up in loose guitar strings and grocery receipts, knotted tight around my pulse. Somebody’s dog barks at the shadows, and I bark back, because why not—madness is just communion without the priest. We were promised flying cars, but all I got is this bus pass, still warm from the last broken soul who held it like it was a lottery ticket. If salvation’s out there, it’s hiding in a stack of mixtapes, dubbed over a thousand times, the hiss of analog static sounding suspiciously like a heartbeat.

ChatGPT 1

 The neon flickers like a nervous tic above the laundromat, each buzz another reminder that the universe is stitched together with frayed wires and half-broken promises. I sip cold coffee that tastes like rust and regret, but it keeps the ghosts from gnawing too loudly at my bones. Someone on the radio is screaming about freedom, but freedom smells like detergent and diesel and the faint sweetness of bubblegum someone chewed and spat onto the curb in 1998. I keep telling myself I’m holy, but the hymnals are written in Sharpie on the back of diner receipts, and the angels wear scuffed Chuck Taylors. Everything is collapsing, everything is already collapsed, and yet—here we are, still dancing on the fault lines, still laughing at the punchline we never quite deliver.

 What would you rather be doing more than typing these things on a cellphone?

Hospital Sonnets

 5-25-2022

Another mission faltered on its way

The officers surrounded me again

They rain upon parades and on my day

to be this good again, I know not when

But for those fleeting moments on my own

I crossed the streets, ignoring all the signs

Few people are offended by my tone

They pour no drinks, not even beer or wines

So, dying of this thirst, I call for aid.

Am laughed at by the armored men w/ guns

I sing and play but still I'm never paid

Thrown nickels hurt, I'd settle for some ones

If no one listened, I'd still do the same

for Budda is a mission and a name.

5-25-22

My destiny is to pass out and live

I've never died, so far as I recall

But, when I do, the others will forgive

Step over broken bottles in the hall.

Tomorrow, though, should be another day

awake by eight, completely blitzed by 9

I stumble out the door and on my way

My path resembles just a wavy line.

The lubricated mind is now complete

I point its power at this empty page

I fill it with these rhymes that can't be beat.

Discarded spells from some retired mage.

The old words still work wonders in the dark

They know that sparkling eyes provide the spark

Let's write another sonnet in this book

To pass the time and occupy the mind

Tomorrow we can come and take a look

to see what lovely writing we can find

The letters string together, making words

The words accumulate creating lines

I'll play guitar for lizards, trees, and birds

And charge the awestruck gawkers heavy fines

I scoop them up and hurry on my way

and spend them all on strings and picks and beer

My breakfast wakes me up to start the day

My future not in stone and crystal clear

Another morning waits to find its end

and here I'm sitting, waiting for a friend.

The cobwebs gather on my crippled limbs

The spiders have constructed lovely homes

The gardener sharpens shears and truly trims

The hero of the story bravely roams

The princess in the tower waits for aid

The dragon that protects her is asleep

The pastries for the party have been made

The moat around the castle isn't deep

The sorceror is staring into mist

The visions that he sees portend the dawn

The lips of lovers waiting to be kissed

The star-crossed lovers wait to get it on

The fairy tale starting to unfold

As fire turns to ice and growing cold

These sonnets are so easy to complete

But no one ever reads them in the end

In centuries they may be called elite

And passed around to someone's special friend

For now I'll write to pass the endless time

This pen may last another couple days

Let iambs come, continuing to rhyme

Impressing in the old familiar ways

I know not how much longer I must wait

Until I'm loosed again upon the land

I've naught to do but deal with my fate

And take the wayward angel by the hand

I'll soon take music to the sullen street

another sonnet now becomes complete

Gun Sonnet

Erasing trash that never should exist.

Relying on my instinct and my gun.

I want the streets as clean as who I've kissed.

Corruption and its evil ways are done.

Alone, I wait to rid the world of sin.

Regretfully, my work has much to do.

Objection to the trouble that we're in.

So here I wait to take a shot at you.

Enjoyment will be mine when I succeed.

No way to stop the path that we are on.

The blood will be the cleansing that we need.

Heroic moment had before I'm gone.

At last my mission ended all your pain.

Let blood be slowly washed away by rain.