You wake
You move
You fall the fall that’s all
You see
You fly
You sleep
You fix the fix for what
You need
You look
You bend
You fight the fight until
You end
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah!
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah!
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!
You know you know you made me cry!
But who’ll believe we’re breathing fire?
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah!
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah!
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!
Why are you looking out the window?
Why aren’t you looking at me?
Why are you looking out the window?
Why aren’t you looking at me?
Why are you looking out the window?
Why aren’t you looking at me?
Why are you looking out the window?
Why aren’t you looking at me?
Month: December 2022
Silver Bells
The South Pole Is Empty Tonight (A Krampus Carol)
Tonight’s the night Krampus comes to town.
He’s leaving the South Pole, making his rounds
With a sack full of switches (no toys)
To beat all the bad girls and boys, oh joy!
Oh, the South Pole is empty tonight.
Santa’s list…was double-checked twice.
Krampus knows that you’ve not been that nice.
So the South Pole is empty tonight…
He’s got a scraggly beard, a face that is feared.
That click-clacking above ain’t no kinda deer.
He’s got hands filled with chains and a headful of horns.
Oh, if you’re a bad one: be warned!
‘Cause the South Pole is empty tonight.
Santa’s list…was double-checked twice.
Krampus knows that you’ve not been that nice.
Now the South Pole is empty tonight…
So if you want to stay on the nice list
You better behave and do what you’re told
Or Krampus might pay you a visit
With a switch and a poke and a scold!
Watch out!
Oh, the South Pole is empty tonight.
Santa’s list…was double-checked twice.
Krampus knows that you’ve not been that nice.
So the South Pole is empty tonight…
Yes, the South Pole is empty tonight.
Santa’s list…was double-checked twice.
Krampus knows that you’ve not been that nice.
So the South Pole is empty…
Oh, the South Pole is empty…
Yes, the South Pole is empty tonight…
Just Outside the Globe, With Loaf of Bread in Hand, I Pause to Write a Sonnet
Upon high banks of the river Thames, I sit
Eating a Toastie thick, so glutenous and dry.
I contemplate existence and my mind's a-flit
With thoughts both base and existentially awry.
Like life, this dirty river flows, a never-ending stream
Of molecules and mysteries, old and vast and wide.
I ponder all the history below, waiting for us unseen
Underneath the ripples cast from steady, rolling tides.
I toss a slice of the baked and bleached-white bore,
Meant to sustain nutritional goals,
Into the drink as a reminder of this mortal norm:
O! the price we pay for living is an unwelcome, hefty toll.
Yet still I sit, still I ponder, still I carry on,
Me and the waters of the river Thames, until the break of dawn.
GPT-3 vs. GS-1
In Paradise
In this paradise of blood
Where the sun can never shine
I’ll try to keep us intertwined
And we will try to find a way
I come for white-hot, falling stars
I come for red hearts beating truth
I’ve loved you in this long, long night
Like the light that I once knew
In a silence with no shadow face
Stands a statue with no arms
I dream of losing pronouns
Picture perfect, proper place
Now I’ve changed my mind again
What ever is a poet’s love
in a perfect paradise of blood?
Please
run your fingers down my forearm.
I’ll run my fingers through your hair.
Jason Preu 
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