A tribute to the wonderful Brian Wilson.
If I could write the music of the spheres
I wrote this with ChatGPT…
A satirical examination of AI poetry.
Walking Whitley Bay Blues
A talking blues in homage to Bob Dylan on his 84th birthday. Inspired by the English seaside town of Whitley Bay.
Prayer
Clear as the green of May,clean as the light of daywhen winds have swept the clouds awayI see Far as the sea is widehigh as the surging tideand, setting all my fears aside,I pray For many days like thismountain heights, seaside blisssealed with a loving kiss,you by my side May inspiration bringme to awakeningsweet, sacred... Continue Reading →
Drilling, Drilling, Drilling
We will be drilling, drilling, drilling while you're filling, filling, fillingyour gas-guzzling juggernauts with discount fuel. We will be grinning, grinning, grinning while we're winning, winning, winning and we feel we are, god-like, ordained to rule. We'll keep on drilling, drilling, drilling while you're drowning, drowning, drowning in your cars, swept away by the flash-floods. And we'll be fiddling, fiddling,... Continue Reading →
First frost-breath of Autumn (II)
(Continued from Part I) ...It led us on, towards a pedestalwhich held us in its thrallamongst the ivy, hidden by the tallsurrounding trees, loftily arching, standing sentinelthat seemed to usher us towards the weather-beaten wallwhere, above all the line, clear as the day was fairspoke its strange message here, and everywhereor so it seemed to... Continue Reading →
First frost-breath of Autumn (I)
It was the first of Autumn, not a soulbut you and I were theredew on the grass, and sunlight in my hairthe churchyard gate was open - just a crack, a creak, ajarwe entered that quiet garden, the parishioners, unawarewhile, from afar a line, clear as the autumn airpoured forth its strains, for all the... Continue Reading →
Still Time
I wonder, by the riverside while following the swirling tideof human filth, spilled far and wide:Is there still time to save us? The factory's putrefaction stenchand farmed manure, in ditch and trenchadd to the rot, compound the stench:This is no way to save us. Yet somehow, it is not despairbut strength, in nature's song I hear,(while... Continue Reading →
Spring
Spring, once again spring,outside our window, starlings singas light takes on a gold-green glowsomehow I know (somehow I know)that new life is awakening I sense a stir — a quickeningand all things turn towards the lightas well they might (as well they might). Day breaks like the waves upon the beach, through tide-washed caves,carving the secret codicesof... Continue Reading →
An Apple for the Teacher
Give an apple to the teacherwith a twinkle in her eyeand a one-way ticket to a dreamnine miles high. Give an apple to the teachertell her not to be afraidand an apple to her daughterwho wishes she had stayed home — light in her eyeslike the dream she held so dearwhich you turned into a... Continue Reading →
Experiments in Fiction 