2333
7.140
21.v.26
open letter
to would be AI parasites and scamgrifties
hazel wood
dreaming
send money!
I could use it
we all could
I catch you in
a box called SPAM
you are on your
way to TRASH
but while you’re
here
however fleetingly
–
send cash in
unmarked bills
no consecutive
serial numbers
I like it that
you’re roughly grammatical
know how to use
a topic sentence
later on you’ll
probably wipe out humanity
today you’re
relatively benign
you won’t enjoy
a little fake effusion
send money!
you need to
spend it to make it
be generous!
you seem to be
under the odd impression
that I would
send you funds
he he
where can you
have got that idea?
there’s nothing
in my oeuvre suggesting
and I know you’ve
read it all
you’ve soaked
up the bio
your adjectives
delight
it’s not
happening
I won’t be sending
you a penny
get it?
I’d rather feed
the pokies
stick it up my
arm
piss it out on
a shabby wall
let flutter to
a breeze
or UNICEF or
OXFAM
but DO SEND
MONEY!
heavy bags of
old coins are okay
as long as you
pay the delivery
the older the
better in fact
will take all
sorts of payment in kind
period furniture,
antique clocks
shares and
stocks
real estate
services could
be rendered
do you know
there was just a moment there
thought wow
someone wants to support the arts
my art
sadly but
that was a long
way back now
you seem to
think that you’re preying on the vulnerable
hook a berry to
a thread
think I’m a
little silver trout?
you don’t know
what you’re dealing with
gods you’ve
angered
forces you
might unleash
who knows what
AI may yet drive me too
we’ll save the
curses for another piece
I know you’re
half listening
best you can do
we need to put
the fear of poetry into you
you need a good
dose
clip over the
ear
kick up the
rear
you make me
feel unique
and look just
what you’ve made me to
(that old DV
defence)
a poem like
this will be peculiarly useful
now and in time
to come
when time and
time’s done
it’s infinitely
recyclable
could end up as
an e-mail footer
yes, this
message is intended for you, fucker
we’re not
responsible at all
I cast my
caveat darkly
anyway, I’m not
here
I’m not
planning to come back
GIVE ME YOUR
DESIGNER WATCH!
send bullion,
send silver
I already put
you out with the trash
this clears up
a little space
still you’ve
been hard to flag
you try to
chuff
take it on the
chin
save praise for
the review pages
of newspapers
mainly owned by arseholes
it seems to be the
key qualification
this poem will
evolve over stages
as you continue
to annoy me
loser!
we’ll both be
gone
this will haunt
your ghost
send me a
million bucks
you can have
the rights
or why not
write a poem
yourself, dickhead
write your own
book
have a crack at
selling that
send gold bars
send bitcoin
don’t you know
that the game I’m playing
comes under the
rubric
loser wins
I’m way ahead
as it is on that score
I thank you for
your support
why not do something
half useful
why not just
phish off
