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ping

ping

in the waving of the golden leaves
i notice the chill
the sound of rustling
and a shrill “ping”

my ears search for the source
piercing my reverie
smoke from backyard projects
brings me back to the moment
light dancing golden with promise
“ping”

a neighbor has a new car
a new alarm system
saying “ready”
“ping”

we’re being swallowed by ai
they say
and tech we can’t control
or understand
sort of like love
or longing for love
on a november dawn
“ping”

crap
all poetry is useless
ai writes good limericks
by arranging letters and words
into the next best word sentence paragraph
“ping”

in a mimic of language
copy paste of a billion ideas
blended and blurred into form
as useless as trying to meow to your cat
the cat appreciates the effort
“ping”

no soul in the machine
anti poet society
hyper-sales entertainment
and pharma miracles to make you happy
thin
loved
“ping”

i spent a summer in the mountains
aspen leaves laughing at my breathing
napping
longing
hope
and

zero ping

11-09-23

i am the poet of desire by john oakley mcelhenney

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