18th May 2023

Poppies by the Quarry Pond

Edgar Allan Poe


Yesterday, while taking a walk at sunset, I came upon a small batch of poppies by the roadside. Not many, really just a handful, and they were not particularly pretty either.
Nevertheless, everytime I see poppies in the wild, two things happen in my head:
1)I am reminded of a short video I once took of a few poppies by a quarry pond near the recording studio (around the time when my mother was dying), and...
2)The line


...but fields of poppies they remain..



from the ROZZ WILLIAMS song


starts playing in my head.


Always. Every single time.

Yesterday, however, while having no problem with the visual aspect, I simply could not recall that line, nor the title of the song itself. At all. I just couldn't. There was nothing but a blank, black space in my head, where there SHOULD have been words instead. (The amount of things I cannot remember these days is becoming frightening).

Anyway, as I kept walking, I thought to myself that I could probably simply google-search for "Rozz Williams poppies lyrics", and the machine would most likely produce the information instantly.
But since I was way too busy walking (and because I absolutely do


believe in multi- tasking), I, instead, began to wonder what would happen, if I asked one of the myriads of artificial intelligence bots to

"create lyrics for a song entitled


in the style of

Rozz Williams



Since this was such a completely


idea, I, of course (out of sheer perversion), had to do

just that

once I got back home ...
... and, to nobody's surprise, the result was a total piece of clichèd



I was just about to close the silly application again, when I noticed the

don't hesitate to ask me anything

part in the bot's boastful opening statement. So, naturally, I immediately thought:

"Oh, reeeeeally?"

, and typed:

write a song lyric about gay anal sex

...but, after calculating for about a minute, the useless machine only replied:

"I'm sorry, I cannot fulfill this request as it goes against ethical and moral guidelines"


So much for "ask me anything" ...

Since the entire concept of chat bots and the like is really all about


and pretending to be something they are


(and because I, admittedly, had nothing more constructive to do in that very moment), I gave the A.I. one final task:


Write a poem, entitled

"Poppies by the Quarry Pond"


in the style of

Edgar Allan Poe


Having finally supplied the deceitful machine with a prompt that was apparently right up its fraudulent alley, the bot happily spat out the following verses ...



In the stillness of the evening,
By the quarry pond so still,
The poppies sway and whisper,
In a voice so soft and chill.
Their petals red as blood,
Their stems so thin and frail,
They dance in eerie silence,
As the moon begins to pale.
Their beauty is a mystery,
A secret they keep well,
For those who dare to venture,
To the quarry's haunted dell.
The poppies by the pond,
Are a sight to behold,
But beware the ghostly whispers,
And the stories they have told.
For in the darkness of the night,
When the poppies are in bloom,
The quarry pond is haunted,
By a spirit filled with gloom.
So if you dare to wander,
By the quarry pond so still,
Beware the poppies' whispers,
And the ghostly chill they instill.

OK, that's it. I'm done.

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