AI is groupthink, it’s hewed to pre-existing work,
which it aggregates into something bland and flat.

If you don’t want your work scraped and copied by AI, try
writing off-balance ideas that aren’t for everyone and have faith
that AI will never be able to actually rival human creativity.

Deny AI the echo chamber of predictable content on which it feeds.

I polish my pieces to a pointless sheen, which gives
them an algorithmically indecipherable quality.

When it comes my to poetry, I have to admit,
I’m working through mediocrity—hoping that it’s just a phase.

If failure is essential for growth
I’m going to be a giant

But after all, someone has to define the baseline.
You’re welcome.

Ok, Let’s wax poetic..

There are thousands of stars
in that black outer-place
where gravitas holds them
firmly in place.

I fret not about avian abductions,
or unidentified flying soccers,
still, I’ve a waxed on them
in multiverse
.
.
Songs for this:
I Like You (A Happier Song) [feat. Doja Cat] by Post Malone
Late Night Talking by Harry Styles

i'm sitting in a corner,
blue as a flower,
saying a prayer.

that room

I ve written
about that room, above the bar, often.
that there were shadows,
no windows,
but I really don't remember?
window, no window?

but whenever i tried to look up
there was the angry sky
chasing hope around narrow streets          

and those bits and ripples
of rain long asleep

casting shadows across
windows distant,
down my window pane.

do you ever think of me?

(written while sitting in a dark room
starring into a rain splashed window).

I engraved her name on the picnic table
Then I engraved the stone over her grave
I engraved the memory of her face on my heart
I engraved the words on the walls of  my prayers
Then out of desparation I engraved her memory in poem

I am a
Lightly melanated,
Hella Black,
Adequately armed,
Heavily mediTated,
Well Educated,
Softly speaking,
Bare footed,
Luxurious loc wearing,
Essentially oiled,
Evolved Activist of a
Spiritual gangsta
Make no mistake...
I am a
Warrior in this garden... and while I Walk in the light...
I ain't afraid of the dark
My soul is in order
Thus, I fight
...I fight

part a:

theres a level of freedom
in poverty
To be too broke to make payment arrangements or even promises... is liberating
thats what i see when i sit at the window on my handy-dandy trusty blue grounding stool...
looking out at the mayhem that ensues EVERY warm sunny day
(because apparently the cold is not conducive to the proper carrying out of shenanigans)...
freedom to...
just not give a ****...
Freedom from fear of consequences. Freedom from
fear of judgement.  Freedom from Integration, and all that comes with it... like "microaggresions".
no honey, all these aggressions are of the macro sort... major even.
In the face... or upside the  head
whats a lil blood spilled?
whats a lil jail time?... thats IF "5-0" even shows up to this place
Liberating I say...

part b:

I have made my own
newly liberated self
a fixture in this place
of refugees...
pleasant but serious and
easily recognized by
free flowing vibe
loud clothes
and wild hair
sharing
milk and fruit and
mothers care...
who quietly
exits
when the liquor flows
too freely
because life here
is cheap... and
times are hard... and
tempers flare
and
I would rather sit at the window on my handy-dandy trusty blue grounding stool... looking out
at the mayhem...
than to be out there

cheap wine in a champagne flute... because
i love champagne flutes...
tho not so much the wine
grocery store chocolate cake and
empty wig heads (i dont even own a wig)
slow spring rain and norah jones
stepping around what is apparently
every plastic crate
ever sold in this burg
slowly unpacking what's left of my life

i do love champagne flutes... (tho not so much the wine) and
unexpected italian love stories
in Tuscany... and subtitles even...
what can go wrong?

are sixty year old newly divorced Black girls
allowed to have dreams of
Tuscan romance, with private jokes and subtle kisses that
smell of night air?

I am in love with a
tender and brilliant muhphucka
("thassa smart muhphucka
right there")
that sees
the
solar system within his reach
and
the rings of Saturn
immense on the horizon
he
activates my soullll....
and
my imagination~ cuz
in the minds eye
i truly truly
also see them
shining exactly where he
so eloquently pointed
lined up
and right there...

I am in love with a man
that will
pack a spinnanight bag
and
map a journey to the
earths core...
my
activated soul
don't want him to go...
scared he won't come back
to me...
ima wrap these
thighs around him
and
hold him
inside me
til this need, again, passes...
it might be selfish
but **** it...
the earth's core
don't need him
like i do...

Now! is the time
for those loved least
A howl!
assembles the spooks, kooks, and beasts

An autumnal lense looks
at cracks between light
Be brave! Embrace inspired fright
Reach into the shadow
and we just might make friends
with the spectre called Life

We are alive! Let's celebrate this
divergent experience we co-create

Three cheers for broken things!
Those who god rapes
and what the cat brings
inside causing screams. The last laugh.
Reduced to a shocking object;
denied personal being, a personal hell,
alone, touched by shadows.
All shadows imply light.
Torture of existence transforms to bliss.
Taken request, now give it a kiss.
See and be seen.
Be vulnerable, be keen to love the ugly.
Cringing dancing singing -
Obscene wisdom, divine pain:
Dominion of fate.
Tainted blood yet the soul won't stain.