Smokingboot


Let the night howl
And the wind roll over the world.
Let it peel back the houses and the lights
Let the tarmac and the cars fold away
And the rain never stop
And I will walk from here to St Kilda's
Or I will fly from here to St Kilda's
A magpie sometimes swooping down
for a kiss or tinfoil escaped from a kitchen.

Let the clock chime,let the words break
As you fall and your hand reaches
For the bannister, don't, don't.
The stairs will hurt a little.
But you can't sleep for all this clicking of bones,
Trending World War III, Taylor Swift, Ticketmaster.
The room spins like a roulette wheel
And you're the pill; the number where you land
Is anyone's guess.

Give up that shape, and let it lie
At the foot of the stairs while you
Take up new plumage, shining iridescent
In the rain. Accept your hollow bones,
The light so sharp, the battle far below
Cannot touch you, know that.
And fly to St Kilda's, up over St Kilda's
For the sky waits beyond the storm
And the sun waits beyond the sky.
And the tin foil that caught your eyes yesterday
Is the milky way between Auriga and Altair.

Everyone has at least one 'me and the devil' type song. This is one of mine, and it's kind of hokey, but it will do, given the prompt that led to it.

The thing about these AI Art exercises is that I am not looking to create visual art of any great calibre; this must be left for people who possess actual artistic skill. What I want to do are put words and styles together that mean nothing much at first, but create a visual which then becomes a story prompt. For these purposes, I find modifiers like 'surrealism' or 'primitivism' work better than wondrous fantasy world creators or beautiful artistry. Sometimes I like a touch of the not there, the absurd, sinister, even grotesque. And sometimes I don't. More often than not, these attempts are hilarious failures, which end up with someone wearing figs in their hair like bobby pins, or discovering their dog has 11 legs. But sometimes a thing stays.





Well her smile was bold
and her eyes were gold
and she knew how to play the boys
on the salty shore
where the billows roar
and I told her to make less noise
there she smiled at me
by the strawberry sea,
and she said 'give me my due,
for I took the rest
but I left the best
and I saved the devil for you.
Held back from the devil,
touched not the devil
Cos the devil's here for you.'

By the break of day
she was well away
though she swore she'd be back soon
to begin again
with the bursting men
like the rose that ate the moon
and I said 'for shame.'
called her a name,
she replied 'perhaps it's true,
for I took them all
and I made them thrall
but I saved the devil for you.
Held back from the devil,
touched not the devil
Cos the devil's here for you.'

Though my bed is light
with its linen white
still I never seem to sleep
For the island sings
Of a thousand things
that can make the waiting weep.
Now my limbs are wet
from a storm that yet
cracks my window on the sea
and I pace the floor
til I hear the door
creak like the words of she
who saved the devil
held back from the devil
touched not the devil
Cos the devil's here for me.

Someone should sing
Of my apple tree
though it be but a dwarf
and was planted this year

Yet it has its apples
All six of them
Red and October scented
Promising crisp-sweet

I used to laugh at
tales of Rapunzel's mother
craving something fresh
from the witch's garden

But morning each day
I cup those apples
lifting the stems
to see if they're ready

I was woken by this poem at about 4 am. Clearly, I am losing my mind. Having said that, they really are good looking apples.

I don’t have a moment’s sorrow
Undiluted by sunlight;
I have dust motes
On the surface of a mirror
Cracks in the pavement
Alloys in joy

Clown shoes in a trunk
An unquiet jester
Who cannot stop laughing
And won’t let me, either.
And when I say ‘stop now!’
It looks so puzzled,

Belled head jingling:
Scalps on a belt.
‘But you know how it is,
You know very well.
And you can’t stop to
Filter blood out of ink,

Tell the travels of clouds
Or believe in true lies,’
Sorrow untouched
By anger or laughter
Is a reed in the river
Too rare for entangling

The slim crescent rises
And frog music plays
Above, a patient star says
Cast your tears to flight
For the song is waiting,
And everything, everything is new.’

The equinox is upon us. Have a bunny. No, the icon does not depict The Watership Down Chainsaw Massacre. They are just scampering around their warren cos they have lots of energy, little gits that they are.

Spring is here. We can all start taking our clothes off. I am too knackered to take my clothes off, I may just crash out on the bed like this. Helpfully, my brain won't switch off:

Once again limb-loosing love shakes me,
bitter-sweet, a dusky animal.
- Sappho

'Dusky Animal' could be a dark bunny of desire; the shops are full of chocolate rabbits. Maybe that's what she meant. I am so tired I don't know if I want sex, sleep, chocolate or poetry.

See you in the morning.


P.S. To any chocolate rabbits who may turn up in my bed tonight, be you white, milk, dark, or any variation thereof; don't be shy, I promise not to bite your ears off...too quickly.