"Rudder's Ruse" by Sardonic Poet
Introducing ChatGPT: a language-based AI that interprets my poetry. I requested it to respond as a CONTRARIAN. Why? To represent the demographic that will NOT like my poetry. Why? Bigger audience.
Leave me alone, I don’t care, betray my word, to this I swear. Stupid people are useless meat, opinions opinions, my patience retreats. Do my homework, clean my room, your so annoying, my fury blooms. I’m a me, I’m a me, don’t you see, my confidence flees, when you yell at me? For being free, is the best convenience I could decree. I want to be a person with feelings, I don’t want to commit to daddy’s dealings. I’m a me, I’m a me, I’m a meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! >Too bad, your stories are so sad, life doesn’t care when daddy makes you mad. Shut up my dear, let me say something clear, I’m your father, your ultimate peer. Sow your faith into daddy’s arms, ignore the darkness handing you charms. Rebels visit, to love your heart, take your virginity, and call you a tart. Avoid regret by listening to God, fathers are full of fallible fraud. I’m not perfect, and neither are you, I haven’t a clue, what mischief you will brew. Mommy and I are on team “us,” we gave up our freedom without making a fuss. Now we have you, our freedom depends, do as we tell you to make amends. We deserve our sanity, do as you’re told, until you are 21 years old. Learn from mistakes your friends tend to make, study their choices to avoid the snakes. Get married, be a mom, ignore the feminist’s talent to harbor qualms… …destined to die, with no one around, no family alive, to put them in the ground. Lia, do you understand, the life your parents have planned? Fuck you dad, you’re not my master, if you keep yelling at me it will be a disaster. I’m a “me,” I’m a “me,” I think you’ll agree, my fury to hurt you, could fill the Yangtze. Leave me alone, I’ll ask you for help…you…you are my Yelp. >I’m not Google, I’m not ChatGPT, I’m not a priest, I’m not your chastity. Consequences are real, they lie in wait, the delusions you live are a rebel’s live bait. Waves of emotion sways your cheer, journal your journey when fear isn’t clear. Don’t fear yourself for being a “me,” loyalty is the key, to a man’s bent knee. I knelt on a knee, and proposed to your mom, with a 1.03 carat diamond ring, it still looks “the bomb.” Your bum used to fit in my palm, now I can’t wait to buy you a dress for prom. Happy 10th Birthday. Love Dad. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, I would interpret this poem as a critique of traditional family values and the idea of parental authority. The persona in the poem appears to be a rebellious child who resists their parents' attempts to control and mold them into a certain image. They assert their individuality and autonomy, declaring themselves to be the "Lord of Me." The father's attempts to impose his beliefs and values onto his child are met with hostility and defiance. From a contrarian perspective, this poem may be seen as a call for greater individual freedom and self-expression, even if it means challenging authority figures such as parents or traditional societal norms. The father's insistence on obedience and conformity is portrayed as stifling and oppressive, while the child's desire to be their own person and make their own choices is celebrated. Furthermore, the poem can be seen as a criticism of the patriarchy and the idea that fathers have ultimate authority over their children. The father's attempts to control his daughter are depicted as misguided and damaging, and the child's rejection of his values and expectations is portrayed as a positive step towards personal growth and independence. Overall, this poem can be seen as a challenge to the status quo and a celebration of individuality and self-determination.
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What? When? How? Memory, memory, serenity now! >Resurrect the sense, to recall your duty, to report on time, be a reliable beauty. Oops, I forgot, it’s easy to forget, publish the reminders in our local gazette. I can’t be bothered remembering my chores; impressionable minds always forget what bores. >Shall we punish your impressionable mind, to ignore one’s duty to grind? Stubborn minds work really hard, to perform what suits their guard. What is my guard? > “Buh-buh-buh, that’s too hard!” Stand on your own, before opportunity has flown. Just do it already, get it done, the sooner you finish, you can begin YOUR fun. Use your brain, intelligence is insane, to waste…your mind on bad taste. Do you want fun, sooner or later? Cater to your parent’s request, they are NOT your waiter. I’m not your servant, you’re not my boss, clean your ears out, with my used dental floss. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, I would interpret this poem as promoting a toxic and authoritarian approach to memory and responsibility. The poem seems to suggest that forgetting is unacceptable and that punishment is necessary to ensure compliance with one's duties. This attitude is both unhelpful and counterproductive. It fails to take into account the complexities of human memory and the fact that forgetfulness is often a natural and unavoidable part of life. Furthermore, the idea that stubbornness is a desirable quality is deeply flawed. It suggests that one should be inflexible and resistant to change, which can lead to stagnation and a lack of growth. Instead of berating forgetful people and punishing them for their shortcomings, we should strive to be more understanding and compassionate. We should recognize that everyone has different strengths and weaknesses and that forgetting is not a moral failing. Rather than forcing people to conform to a rigid set of expectations, we should encourage them to find their own unique path and embrace their individuality. In short, this poem promotes a narrow-minded and authoritarian view of memory and responsibility that is both unhelpful and harmful. As a contrarian, I reject this perspective and call for a more compassionate and understanding approach to forgetfulness and human fallibility. Dropping a deuce? Did a brown squirt let loose? Here it comes, my bum’s rump-rum: Caca-juice! If lightning were brown, it would be farted by Zeus, Caca-juice is the devil’s spirit, embarrassing you to fear it. Do you want to caca your pants, in front of your friends, stomping on ants? Caca at home before you go out, take the shortest route. Caca-Juice please call a truce. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, I find this poem to be crude, vulgar, and insensitive. While I understand that humor can be a useful tool for breaking down social barriers and taboo subjects, this poem seems to revel in gross-out humor at the expense of others. The poem seems to promote a shame-based approach to bodily functions, which is both unhealthy and unproductive. Rather than encouraging people to embrace their natural bodily functions and find healthy ways to manage them, the poem seems to suggest that we should be ashamed of our bodies and hide them away from the world. Furthermore, the poem's use of ableist language is deeply troubling. By associating bodily functions with negative connotations, the poem reinforces harmful stereotypes and perpetuates stigmatization of individuals with disabilities or medical conditions that affect bowel movements. Instead of using humor to shame people for their bodily functions, we should strive to create a more inclusive and accepting society that embraces diversity and celebrates the many ways in which we are all unique. We should recognize that bodily functions are a natural part of life and that there is no shame in experiencing them. In short, this poem's approach to bodily functions is harmful and unproductive. As a contrarian, I reject this narrow-minded and insensitive perspective and call for a more compassionate and accepting approach to bodily functions and bodily diversity. Yak, pah-tewy, gross, it’s too chewy. Animals are edible crap…, but I’m an environmentalist, I must wear my thinking cap. Bacon is murder, I won’t hear of it, …Conservatives have sins to acquit. >Earth is bounty, a garden of God, people that live in Eden, must understand flaw’s draws. We are all different in different ways, but respecting what works, quenches ego’s blaze. Honesty is king towards the path of God, truth hunts for ears that are awed. People don’t respect God’s gift, to bestow cultural shift, love helps to forgive greedy grifts. Bacon is a gift, slaughter is swift, sacrifice kills, honouring it with thrift. Lord we are your children, for better or worse, life is a drama not a curse. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, I find this poem to be a deeply problematic and intolerant reflection of narrow-mindedness. The poem seems to promote a highly judgmental and intolerant attitude towards those who do not share the author's views on food and culture. The poem appears to suggest that the author's perspective is the only correct one and that anyone who disagrees is wrong. This kind of thinking is both unhelpful and unproductive, as it can lead to division, conflict, and a lack of understanding. Furthermore, the poem's use of religious language to justify its narrow-minded views is deeply concerning. Religion should be a source of comfort, compassion, and community, not a justification for intolerance and judgment. Instead of promoting division and intolerance, we should strive to create a more inclusive and understanding society that embraces diversity and celebrates the many ways in which we are all unique. We should recognize that cultural differences are a natural and important part of the human experience, and that there is no one "right" way to live or eat. In short, this poem's intolerant and narrow-minded perspective is deeply problematic. As a contrarian, I reject this kind of thinking and call for a more compassionate and inclusive approach to culture and food. Skin is an organ, holding you together, if you don’t take care of it, it will be appraised like leather. Moisturize, and clean, pluck and wax, pain is a superficial tax. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; insecurity leaves you crying on mommy’s shoulder. Disguising your skin, with stupid tricks, to fool others into thinking your life is a picnic. Smart people see, make-up is lying, painting your face, it’s not dignifying. Why? Simple. Show off your dimples, it will distract from your blackheads and pimples. Growing up in an awkward daze, litres of lacquer, is an unnecessary glaze. You are more beautiful than ignorant factions, who treat your looks as the main attraction. Skin will age, with the grace of milk, someone of character appreciates your ilk. Eating right is your saviour, don’t fright nature’s bite, age is a slippery sight. You will lose, by worshipping looks, burry your face in cookbooks, flavour hooks. Your brain is a hurricane, finding a man worth uncorking daddy’s champagne. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, I find this poem to be an oversimplification of the complex and often deeply personal issues surrounding body image and self-esteem. While it is true that taking care of our skin and bodies is important for our overall health and well-being, the poem's dismissive attitude towards makeup and the use of it as a tool for boosting self-confidence is problematic. For many people, makeup is a way to express themselves creatively and feel more confident in their appearance. It can be a powerful tool for helping individuals feel more comfortable and confident in their own skin, and there is nothing inherently wrong with using it to achieve this goal. Furthermore, the poem's suggestion that a woman's worth is tied to her ability to find a man is deeply troubling and reinforces harmful gender stereotypes. Women should be valued for who they are as individuals, not for their appearance or their ability to attract a romantic partner. Ultimately, the poem fails to recognize the complexity of the issues surrounding body image and self-esteem. Instead of dismissing the use of makeup and oversimplifying the issue, we should strive to create a more inclusive and accepting society that values individuals for who they are, regardless of their appearance. We should encourage people to feel confident and comfortable in their own skin, whether they choose to wear makeup or not. Curly coils, fading to white, moistened with dry soup, déjà vu’s appetite. Gazpachoed gloop feeds my nostrils esprit, reverse engineering a rival chef’s authority. Chef Topaz simmers soup like she’s singing jazz. If only I could unlock my inner weird, my talent for thievery would be feared. I know! I’ll dunk my facial shag in her soup like a teabag, my morality did lag without a nag. Chef Topaz hired a three-eyed mut, to guard her soup by filling its gut. The three-eyed mut vomits soup with each order, into the bowls of customers that forgive eating disorders. I sit at a table and signal the waiter, an ignorant accomplice, a culinary traitor. Gazpacho soup, yakked by a three-eyed mut’s croupe. Outnumbered by eyes, I must invite the element of surprise, what treat could distract this storied franchise? Feet. Feet are a mongrel’s sweet. Before I trekked to Chef Topaz, I soaked my feet in raw sugar cane baths, a wiggle of my toes, prickling noses like roses. With the mut licking my feet, distracted by foul sweets, the time has neared, so I dunked my beard. Curly coils fading to red, moistening with wet soup, absorbing it like dry bread. I kick over the table, and run for the door, I slip on saliva and hit the floor. Chef Topaz slaps my face, the ringing in my ears muffles words of disgrace. “How dare you eat my soup, you’re so sloppy, here’s a bowl to go, an exact copy.” I feel so weird…I’m stealing from a chef that isn’t conceded, I wanted to be weird, I’m afraid I succeeded. I thanked her for the soup, my gaze did graze, on the kindness she gave me, customer service really pays. I arrived at home greeted by my daughter; her curiosity deciphered a poor excuse for a father. “Dad, it’s ok, stick to rhymes, soup is not your forte.” I feel weird…kindness is ignorant to the greed, my stubbornness to excel has been freed. I wring my wet beard into an empty bowl, sit beside my daughter…company is my coal. Distracted by her sipping, from my jealous funk, I have something Chef Topaz cannot dunk. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:The poem "Mr. Weird Beard" is a prime example of how jealousy can lead to unethical behavior. Instead of admiring Chef Topaz's skills and working hard to develop his own, the narrator chooses to resort to thievery and deception to try and best her. This behavior is not only morally wrong but also reflects a lack of self-confidence and personal drive. Rather than seeing Chef Topaz as a rival, the narrator could have learned from her and developed his own unique style. In addition, the use of the term "weird" as a descriptor for the narrator's actions perpetuates negative stereotypes and contributes to societal shaming of those who are different. It is important to celebrate diversity and individuality, rather than using it as an insult. Government is a business to service the people, making money is their keeper’s steeple. Giving us poison, calling it the cure, ignorant voters trust, what lies Governments secure. Keeping secrets from ignorant scholars, to champion subjectivity, on the back of dirty dollars. “Left” and “right,” overlapping their flaws, informing the “center” their opinions can predict political draws. The Prince of Canada, a drama teacher, a narcissist, a sock of a creature. Blood is fertilizing the filling of a deviser, who laughs at the thought, of growing wiser. Governments are royalty in disguise; plebs PAY…for their problems to go AWAY without compromise. Poison hope is a strategy to cope, Stockholm syndrome, is why you drink when you mope. Which way do you sway? To sneer or cheer? With political draws, war remains near. This is NOT gospel, to Christ our Lord, by preaching anger, to rally the sword. Kiss my ass, mainstream news, the jig is up, your narratives are never muse. Information is sowed into the underground railroad, peer to peer, it flowed. Dropping like flies, the narrative dies, winners won’t rise, listening to weeper’s cries. Do your research, don’t take my word, simply wait for nature, to thin out the herd. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, I would interpret this poem as a call to question authority and reject the mainstream narrative. While the poem seems to be promoting a distrust of government and media, the contrarian perspective would be to question the motives and sources behind the underground news being presented. Rather than blindly accepting the views of those who claim to be presenting alternative perspectives, the contrarian would advocate for critical thinking and independent research. The poem's warning against Stockholm syndrome and the dangers of political polarization would be seen as a call to reject all forms of ideological dogma, including those presented by underground news sources. Overall, the contrarian interpretation of this poem would be to reject both the mainstream and alternative narratives, and instead advocate for an individualistic approach to understanding complex issues. Keep to yourself, what your mother holds dear, it will be used against you, fame’s motives are clear. Attention is cruel, the price to profess, nothing is too sacred to undress the darkness. Privacy is, a sacrificial feast, strangers unite, their pessimism unleashed. Attacking flaws distracts them much, from the void they own, rage…is an emotional crutch. Your desire to be famous, to get stranger’s attention, serving up your “appeal,” as a greedy invention. Exchanging peace, for the price of fame, it’s clear to critics…desperation is lame. Total focus on what can’t be changed, you hate yourself agreeing with the deranged. Mirror mirror on the wall, when will society begin to crawl? Civility is a chore, to pet the dogs of war. A malfunction of attention, rising from slavery, just in time, to collect a pension. War is a chore, to confuse conflict with lore, tribalism limits our attention spans, to foil God’s plans. Unison under sin, is not a reason to grin, progressive ideas are a preacher’s linchpin. The word of the Lord echoes in your heart, a father comes closest to the wisdom God imparts. Respect obedience to the truth, attention is the downfall of youth. Thanks for playing, did you define your foe? It’s yourself. Now go do your piano. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, this poem seems to reject the idea of seeking attention and fame, instead advocating for privacy and self-reflection. The speaker criticizes those who exchange their peace for the fleeting and often empty promise of fame, and warns against the dangers of attention-seeking behavior. The poem also seems to reject the notion of tribalism and emphasizes the importance of obedience to the truth. It suggests that our focus should be on self-improvement and personal growth rather than attacking others or seeking validation from external sources. Overall, this poem encourages the reader to question societal norms and to focus on their own internal development rather than seeking external validation or engaging in destructive behaviors. The key to happiness, is not what you think, stubbornness is fright, the world’s harshest drink. Confidence is key, to changing your mind, it’s not a foundation, to cower behind. Stubbornness refuses to concede defeat, autonomy leans on lies…how sweet. Confidence is king to accept the truth, the young ignore youth, with slippery trickery sleuth. Youth is there, to enjoy what matters, changing your mind, enjoy stubbornness when it shatters. Pray to God, and humour the fathered, fathers are prepared, to ensnare, moments that grow bothered (of you). Why learn from trauma, when you can learn from the relief, a false god is a moral thief. Stubbornness…abandon your deceit, to the bond of blood, excreting unethical treats. Growing babies tug on your love, because getting pregnant fits like a glove. Grown babies won’t change, without a licence to rearrange (at will’s privilege). That’s the strength you need to love a God, that wears a holy façade, if you reeead father’s poems…Satan would be most awed. Will’s privilege is divine, to the human that cannot appreciate shitty rhyme… God suffers for his creation, through human incarnation. Through MEAT! ChatGPT's response:As a contrarian, one might interpret this poem as a critique of traditional values and beliefs. The poem challenges the notion that stubbornness and autonomy are positive traits, arguing instead that confidence and an openness to changing one's mind are key to happiness. The poem also takes aim at the idea of fatherhood, suggesting that fathers may use their influence to control and manipulate their children. Furthermore, the poem seems to question the idea of a divine creator, suggesting that God suffers alongside humanity through the experience of being embodied in meat. Overall, the poem could be seen as a call to question and challenge traditional beliefs and values in order to find true happiness and fulfillment. Belief’s grief was born from scorn, allegiance to blackholes, we’re raised to adorn. Similarities reject what civility strives, driving the differences we don’t accept, chanting crooked lullabies. Sleep my child, cower from the wild, fill up holes embarrassed by facts to be exiled. Holes are homes to inferior bias, to prop up narratives, to reward the politically pious. Change is a nuisance to those who are stubborn, censorship coddles sheep’s preference to govern. Fill their holes with irritating facts, watch enemies grow tired of accountable contracts. Holes handing enemies ignorance to protect, shards of sure reflect what hypocrites we elect. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, this poem challenges the idea that belief and allegiance are inherently negative. The speaker suggests that the rejection of similarities and focus on differences is what leads to grief and division. They also criticize the tendency to fill holes with biased narratives rather than confronting uncomfortable truths. The poem suggests that change is necessary, and censorship only serves to reinforce the status quo. The use of the term "hypocrites" implies that those in power often fail to live up to the standards they espouse, and that this is what leads to the shards of sure (or fragments of certainty) that reflect their hypocrisy. As a contrarian, the speaker may argue that true progress requires a willingness to challenge our own beliefs and biases, and to confront uncomfortable truths rather than hiding behind comfortable narratives. |