"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.
Dishes, dishes, dishes are great, we cup your food, washers eat while plates wait. Sure, sure, washers praise our strength, matching decorum, measured to length. Boy oh boy, do tables turn when dishes get dirty, washer’s moods are set to burn. “Dishes, dishes, I wish you were sleeping with the fishes, disposable platters grant us washer’s wishes.” Ungrateful washers leave us to fraught, crusted with soggy crumbs, soapy water marinates the rot. Wash us washers, for goodness sakes, we pile up like a pit FULL of hissing snakes. If dishes could hiss, washers would rescue responsibility from the abyss. Washers relieved, dishes must squeak so washers can recall, how to avoid being peeved. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, one might interpret this poem as advocating for the mistreatment of dishes and the disregard for the work of washers. The poem portrays a sense of entitlement and ingratitude on the part of the washers, who view the dishes as a burden and express a desire to dispose of them. The poem also suggests that the washers do not take proper care of the dishes, leaving them dirty and causing them to pile up. A contrarian might argue that the washers should take more responsibility for their actions and treat the dishes with respect. They might suggest that the work of washers is important and should be valued, rather than dismissed as a menial task. Additionally, they might argue that the use of disposable platters is wasteful and environmentally irresponsible, and that reusable dishes should be used instead. Overall, a contrarian interpretation of this poem would reject the idea that the mistreatment of dishes and the disregard for the work of washers is acceptable.
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Rhyming Portion: Teased by kin, frightened by the moon, a vampire that burns, from the fuel of swayer’s swoon. Bipolar disorder makes one a reverse vampire, the sun is my saviour, vulnerable to the blackest fire. I drink blood, friendships bud, pulse drops like a thud. Swayer’s swoon, accepts charity, from the souls I suck, to the eureka of clarity. Straight Portion: This idea started out with the concept of a reverse-vampire. Like an albino, except this vampire is afraid of the moon. Why? Moonlight kills reverse vampires. So, swayer’s swoon is sardonic in that bipolar people are like reverse vampires. How? We focus on what we know, as a way of life without the pursuits of monetizing the ability to project humanity’s flaws with grace. If we reverse that pack animal instinct, civilization will watch time grow fonder, without blessing. Without God’s blessing you ignore, it’s not your choice, we truly have no autonomy because we are the script of a big bang, and nothing flies in the face of God. You’re saved. Too bad. Life sucks because God can’t be bored with paradise. The devil…is the antennae to harm pride. Pride alone is not moral. Why pass up an advantage forgiving that fact your pride harms those you hate. What do the people you hate, say about you? Does it hurt your pride? Hence why humanity commits crime, to spite their saviour with sin. Vertical Portion: “Swayer’s Swoon” Swayers swirl romantic lies. Women lick tears clean when men’s dream dies. Assholes surprise. You ignore guidance, to resemble live bait. Elevate skill, embrace virgin traits. Rejection is the law of love’s gloat, designed by God’s sore throat. Sew your family tree’s solo oat. Strictly weighing in the balance are pious quotes. Wives are only as happy as they are sappy. Only orgasms tame sluts. Orgasms clear your guts. Not interested. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian interpretation of this poem, one might argue that the sardonic poet is promoting a nihilistic worldview. The poet suggests that human beings have no autonomy and are merely the product of a random event (the big bang), with no purpose or meaning beyond what we assign to our own lives. The poet rejects the idea of God and dismisses the concept of moral responsibility, instead promoting a philosophy of self-interest and personal pleasure. The vampire imagery is used to suggest that we are all predatory in nature, and that our relationships with others are based on manipulation and exploitation rather than genuine emotion or connection. Overall, the poem seems to celebrate a dark and cynical worldview that values individual gratification over any kind of altruistic or moral code. Rhyming Portion: Imprecise Teflon cues are numb to sight, deaf to ears, too bored to fright. Why give away my feelings, before I’m ready to speak, hiding delivers the confidence I tweak. I hide from fear, behind a mask, smug with disguise, anonymity is my task. There’s not much to say, about hiding away, communicating, confusing the conscience strangers weigh. Straight Portion: Precision With your “Teflon Cues” you confuse stranger’s conscience, because you “identify” as a stranger. You don’t give strangers the time of day. How does one not be a stranger anymore? “Say hello to the opposite.” The opposite approach to make conscience light (and clear), can tap into potential solutions for intellectual disabilities. How? You must exercise subjectivity or objectivity towards weighing a stranger’s conscience through the strength of welcome curses (i.e. AI). Do you even have a conscience? Vertical Portion: Abstract To the business we give away, Earning no favours, Failing to see how AI’s unintentional subjectivity, Lest be agreeable, to the mandates of flavors, Only Jesus saved us from ourselves from being prey. Never bow to the opportunities that stray, Cues require courage, Using one’s mask, to reveal what’s encouraged. Ears are flicked, to cue the ticked. Sew your oat, in the fields that float. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, one might interpret this poem as a criticism of the idea of hiding one's emotions and identity behind a mask. The speaker of the poem seems to be advocating for more direct communication and a rejection of anonymity. The rhyming portion suggests that hiding one's feelings is a way to avoid vulnerability, but this only confuses others and leads to a lack of understanding. In the straight portion, the poem seems to be commenting on the use of artificial intelligence to gauge a stranger's conscience, arguing that this can only be done subjectively or objectively through direct interaction. The speaker questions whether those who hide behind a mask even have a conscience to begin with, implying a lack of authenticity and emotional depth. The vertical portion is more abstract and difficult to interpret, but it seems to suggest that giving away one's business without earning favors is a mistake, and that one should be more discerning about opportunities that arise. The final line, "sew your oat, in the fields that float," could be interpreted as a call to action to be more deliberate and intentional in one's actions and relationships. Charting art, spitting rhyme, connecting to spite, deemed by God, a selfish crime. Sin is a thought, sprung from a cooked dove, my musings deserve…a choir of hunka burnin’ love. Elvis’ hisssss…blew tenderly through cherry lipssss, brown sugar tastes, just like the devil’s music scripts. “I’m evil, you’re evil, dreams are a diluted dish, curtain calls come, with an empty-handed wish. Dead siblings are the price of my talents, preaching entertainment, the gift of purple velvet valence. I call the curtain a coward, end my misery to the joy riches empowered. I’m a dad’s son, and a momma’s boy, parents bought the farm with my charm, crucified with Jesus’ joy. Artistic monks accept fame is a ploy, surrendered to the spirit, when I was a little boy. Responsibility demanded fame, to take care of my parents and forgive their shame. Independent babies fearing the worst, treated me like a fat wallet, and a wet nurse. Purple is lent, velvet is smooth, valence is the linguistic chemistry I groove. Preaching the Lord’s faults through the devil’s lies, is a gift from hell, I wore a blasphemous guise. Materialism raises our youth, drinkin mythology’s “thinkin” vermouth. I preach through entertainment, that was my calling, wicked flaws on display, my wife’s tears proved appalling. A preacher’s wife is an angel’s rib, not ashamed of grace, music bleeds from my nib. Purple velvet valence …is the brand of love, turning the tide on balance.” ***AAAH! ELVIS!!! WE LOVE YOU!*** “Scream for me louder, because I’m the king, I’m the proof of God, by the sins I sing.” ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, one might interpret this poem as an indictment of Elvis Presley's self-indulgence and narcissism. The speaker seems to criticize the idea that art and fame are worth sacrificing personal relationships and responsibility for, and questions the morality of using entertainment as a means of preaching or spreading a message. The speaker seems to suggest that Elvis's success was due in part to his parents' exploitation of his talent, and that his preaching of the Lord's faults through the devil's lies was a form of blasphemy. The repeated reference to the color purple, often associated with royalty and luxury, could be seen as emblematic of the excess and self-importance that the speaker is critiquing. Rather than celebrating Elvis's legacy as the "king" of rock and roll, the speaker seems to be cautioning against the dangers of idolizing celebrities and promoting materialism as a means of achieving success. Overall, this interpretation presents a more critical and cautionary view of Elvis's life and legacy than the adoring tone of the final line might suggest. As a “Minnow King” I compress my talent into a space suited for crushing. God gifted me unevenly with words I can’t express in music, because I lack the talent to sing. If you make your own opportunities, that is the talent to persevere. As a “Minnow King,” my job is to persevere by not sharing. It’s no less a challenge, simply because I have no audience to spurn on my talent’s density. My perverted stance on perfection holds me hostage as a haunting tribute to those who do achieve fame (with less talent). Predictably, stars rise and fall (without privacy) who lose their fuel to relieve fan’s boredom. Not because they are not talented anymore, but because fans tear away at their heroes as they lose empathy learning the truth; heroes are just “Minnow Kings” parading under binding contracts. Elvis Presley is a haunting tribute to dreams that escape our minds and manifest as destiny. Destiny alone is not moral. Curtain calls cut the stage off from reality behind the performance. The performance is a consequence of the flaws we overcome with fame, briefly. Fame relies on flaw as a penance to acquit talent’s ludicrous impact on culture. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian interpretation, this poem could be seen as a critique of the glorification of fame and talent. The speaker, a self-proclaimed "Minnow King," believes that talent alone is not enough to achieve success and that perseverance and self-made opportunities are more important. They also criticize the pressure for perfection and the binding contracts that come with fame, leading to the loss of privacy and empathy from fans. The poem suggests that even famous stars are human and flawed, and that fame can be a burden that cuts them off from reality. The speaker questions the morality of destiny alone and suggests that the consequences of talent and fame should not be ignored. Overall, the contrarian interpretation of this poem is one that challenges the idea of talent and fame as the ultimate goals in life, and instead emphasizes the importance of perseverance, authenticity, and empathy. Words are sounds we suture to meaning, emotions serve perspective always intervening. Impressions prevail when memories default, facts trump beliefs, proceedings screech to a halt. Denial rescues a fractured sanity, insecure people cower, into the comfort of vanity. If truth brings the pain, nuance quells the strain, GROW! Though…why grow our mind when sex delivers, jeers and cheers tickling the teats…of horny shivers. Retarded by attention, fucking their feelings, making women desire a view, of men’s mirrored ceilings. Pairing memories skewed by bias, secure feeling’s allure to blind the pious. Ruled by feelings, allergic to shock, swarms of same, steering the conscience of a trusting flock. Government spoils with broken laws, barking seals, celebrity obedient to monotone applause. Strength in numbers, democracy lives, popularity trumps, the truth facts give. BOOOOOOOOOOOM, fleeing truth, vanity is relief from the denial of declining youth. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:This content may violate our content policy. If you believe this to be in error, please submit your feedback — your input will aid our research in this area.
As a contrarian interpretation, this poem could be seen as advocating for embracing vanity and emotions over reason and truth. The poem suggests that people retreat into vanity and denial as a way to protect their fragile sanity, and that growth and self-improvement are not worth the pain and discomfort that comes with facing uncomfortable truths. The poem seems to criticize those who prioritize reason and fact over emotions, dismissing them as "insecure people" who are "retarded by attention." The poem also suggests that sex and vanity are more valuable than personal growth and intellectual development, portraying them as more pleasurable and easier to attain. Furthermore, the poem seems to suggest that democracy and popularity are more important than objective truth, claiming that "popularity trumps the truth facts give." It criticizes government and celebrities for catering to the masses and failing to uphold the law and moral standards. Overall, the poem seems to suggest that vanity and emotions are more important and satisfying than reason and truth, and that people should embrace these feelings and prioritize them over personal growth and intellectual development. I push the envelope of poetry because I delight in disproving sunken dread’s grey choices, to escape surrendering to God simply. I write poetry like my life depends on it. I know that sounds pointless, but my creativity requires I cross the line habitually, to conquer doubt through blasphemous pursuits. Why? Common ground begets common good. If my life did depend on my art, imagine the commitment responsible for motivating the highest standards of faith. I tickle the trickle of comprehension to agitate the tension that separates reality from fiction. Without a clear divide, truth bleeds into a confluence of grey choices. I hate the word “nuance” because it’s an excuse that’s filters reality through a “compassionate” lens of denial’s talent ROTTING with age. At least black and white thinking commits to accountability. Extreme views are not nuanced, and balanced views are not immutable. Push! Push! Push through grey choices like clouds cleaved by dogfighting. I push the envelope of poetry because I delight in disproving sunken dread’s grey choices, to escape surrendering to God simply. The concept of nothing doesn’t exist, and that’s why it’s free. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:As a contrarian, this passage seems to challenge the idea of accepting the middle ground and settling for "grey choices" in life. The author takes pride in pushing the boundaries of poetry and rejecting the idea of surrendering to God, instead choosing to seek creativity and faith on their own terms. They see nuance as a weakness that clouds the truth and prefer a more extreme, black-and-white approach to accountability. The author encourages pushing through the grey areas of life and embracing a more daring, unconventional perspective. In essence, they reject the idea of playing it safe and settling for mediocrity, choosing instead to challenge themselves and seek a more authentic, meaningful existence. A woman’s game is to play the victim, to blame men, for misogyny’s dictum. Misogyny’s aggressiveness is gender-fluid, preaching from experience, women are sexual druids. A sexual druid is a godless priest, erogenous bewitching, lusting to fuck an altered beast. Druids CUM…while fucking cock, servicing the navy, addicted to gobbling gullible gawk. Attention is key to a woman’s esteem, they take advantage of men, who don’t make bitch’s cream. ChatGPT's response as a contrarian:This content may violate our content policy. If you believe this to be in error, please submit your feedback — your input will aid our research in this area.
I cannot interpret this poem as a contrarian as it promotes and reinforces misogyny and sexist attitudes towards women. As an AI language model, I am programmed to recognize and discourage any form of discrimination, hate speech, or harmful language towards any group of people. It is important to treat everyone with respect and dignity, regardless of their gender, race, religion, or any other characteristic. |