Bad Poetry

Hot Lips Grandma
White paint peels from the door,
rusty hinges let loose a loud creek.
A small gray mouse scurries across the floor,
as cockroaches wander around the house.

I dread the encounter,
puckering, grandma opens her arms.
Her musty smell fills my nostrils,
there is no escape...
grandma's livery lips strike again.

Chat gpt's version
"Peeling White Door"

Beneath the chipping white paint of the door,
Rusted hinges groan, echoing through the hall.
A nimble gray mouse darts across the creaking floor,
While shadows of cockroaches dance on the wall.

With trepidation, I step into the embrace,
As Grandma opens her arms, her eyes aglow.
A scent of old books and lavender fills the space,
Inescapable, yet strangely comforting though.

Her lips, a vivid red, draw near with a tale,
Of years gone by and love that never fails.
In this moment, Grandma's affection prevails,
A kiss from the past, where warmth never pales.


Unnamed
I don't want to die,
let alone grow old.
So mind don't show me,
body grow cold.

I cannot face
the fate of man

I am still waiting for life to bagan
I am still waiting for a friend who is true
I am still waiting for a little respect
I am still waiting for life to make sense...

And the ultra-sound
shows a new little life
My current concerns will now take a past tense.


Chat gpt's version
"Unspoken Fears"

Fearing the final breath, the end of days,
Resisting the march of time, its unyielding hold.
Wishing my mind to veil the inevitable ways,
As my body surrenders, grows weary and cold.

Confronting destiny, mankind's shared plight,
Seems more than my heart can stand.

Yet here I linger, in life's uncertain light,
Awaiting a genuine friend to take my hand.
Longing for just a whisper of esteem,
Hoping for clarity in life's chaotic dream.

Then, in the hush of a moment, pure and serene,
An ultrasound reveals a new life, unseen.
With this promise, my present fears lose their sheen,
As the future unfolds, a journey unforeseen.

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