Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
AI, the movie, Pinocchio, still holds the base plot, but AI some day, if movies worth ever hold, as old stories held, worth until not long ago, on firm fixed grid of ink and stroke as accurate as any short hand can be, transcription is an art telling a once imagined tale told since we were formed at the level, in the sphere of more than meets the eye, - snapping fingers, find a cadence Thing of truth, boxed in parables, as told to teach the reason we be having to justify, the way we say all men must be to be right and worthy, on the scale of soul and spirit, wither early genius, makes the joker limp to remember where you lay your head there is the house in mind, as the whole truth, snickers on the edge of the orchestra pit. might there be minds in any thing we have imagined minds being in, in the cultural myth of how now converged from all the old secret means and ways money was worshipped, given worth, and that, made heavy, as the parameter, gold-wise, or big fur tanned well, where winters model everafter, with happy hunters. What is good in a windfall? Fire. How Why and What, each look my way.. and laugh nows, our chance, burn the branch let us tell the story how, once why we find joy doing what feels like all I am saying I am happy inside and I am so much older now than I imagined then add a fade gong ding distant skritchy skritch define the you to whom you sing, or ever body be, be wise ever body be, be wise, bass, and the finger snappers grove if you are carving skip to the spindle and spin this diamond needle tic tic into gold, the worth of old, in the economy of mind, whence clots of worthship, cover stains in golden stories, and colorfilled parades, or blue jays here, my now, then your past, immediately, meaning nothing to the sense common to us in the words we define to our own satisfaction, this is a truth we hold… evidently, we agree, all the lines to now were clear or we, the whole we that occurred today, in your time, was not impossible, but maybe not with out you being able to survive yesterday.
0
Sep 13, 2021
Sep 13, 2021 at 5:34 PM UTC
The truth as curse, that story
AI, the movie, Pinocchio, still holds the base plot, but AI some day, if movies worth ever hold, as old stories held, worth until not long ago, on firm fixed grid of ink and stroke as accurate as any short hand can be, transcription is an art telling a once imagined tale told since we were formed at the level, in the sphere of more than meets the eye, - snapping fingers, find a cadence Thing of truth, boxed in parables, as told to teach the reason we be having to justify, the way we say all men must be to be right and worthy, on the scale of soul and spirit, wither early genius, makes the joker limp to remember where you lay your head there is the house in mind, as the whole truth, snickers on the edge of the orchestra pit. might there be minds in any thing we have imagined minds being in, in the cultural myth of how now converged from all the old secret means and ways money was worshipped, given worth, and that, made heavy, as the parameter, gold-wise, or big fur tanned well, where winters model everafter, with happy hunters. What is good in a windfall? Fire. How Why and What, each look my way.. and laugh nows, our chance, burn the branch let us tell the story how, once why we find joy doing what feels like all I am saying I am happy inside and I am so much older now than I imagined then add a fade gong ding distant skritchy skritch define the you to whom you sing, or ever body be, be wise ever body be, be wise, bass, and the finger snappers grove if you are carving skip to the spindle and spin this diamond needle tic tic into gold, the worth of old, in the economy of mind, whence clots of worthship, cover stains in golden stories, and colorfilled parades, or blue jays here, my now, then your past, immediately, meaning nothing to the sense common to us in the words we define to our own satisfaction, this is a truth we hold… evidently, we agree, all the lines to now were clear or we, the whole we that occurred today, in your time, was not impossible, but maybe not with out you being able to survive yesterday.
if it fits it prints
kenpepiton
Written by
77/M/Pine Valley CA
Sep 13, 2021
Sep 13, 2021 at 5:34 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem