So this is a poem I wrote with GPT-3. I previously posted it in this blog, but this time I have revised it on my own, without GPT-3, so I guess it’s now 60% mine, 40% GPT-3’s. It’s still not a great poem, but it’s maybe interesting?
Red star- o’ dread star
Shatterest the sky
And the fire of imagery
Is to pyre of blackness thrown
If a god is born each morn
Where does it lie it when the evening
Casts down and off the sun
Casts to drown in dismal abyss
The dark, the silent, the dead?
The light of all resplendent stars
Is but reflection.
But in reflection, doubled and redoubled
Of the dark, I see a man
Born winged, haloed.
His family has snared gods
And he holds a demon by the hand
The light of the stars he will not look upon
For the demon’s eyes are pale-blind.
“It is finished. My work is done.”
“This man, like child, has shown me how to end it.”
“To break the cycle, not watch it rust.”
“I am broken, though, by atrocious lusts”
“I did not know that which I was, and now I know it too late.”
/And if I have loved poorly/
/I ask, have thou loved well?/
/For if yes, thou will forgive/
/And if no, you must forgive/
/Lest your ruins stand in equal measure/
/Though thou wert left with but the corner stone/
“If you can, say something kind.”
The demon turns away
Fades into the blackness.
And if I am bled to show life, and I show life
I dare not complain- would I prefer steal the place of the corpse?
Would I prefer the demon’s soul be mine?
I did love him- perambulate then!
To that deeper hell whence demons dead are sent
I do not remember the why of love
And how can they be my sins if I do not know them?
I shall find the demon’s soul, even if I do not remember the way.
As far as darkness is from colour’s din
So further again is that place of negative illumination.
I shall not pretend I shall return.