“PapWars” (A Poem)

Wow It’s Been A Week Since The Last Post

And I’m Not Talking About World War One

That Was More Than A Century Ago

I Didn’t Attend That Soiree

But I Hear It Was A Real Blast

But Enough About War & All It’s Gore

Let’s Talk About Happy Things

I’m Sorry I Must Be Slipping

Happy things Aren’t Interesting

Unless Of Course, It’s “Twisted Happy Things”

Like An Alcoholic Who Has No Cash

& is Going Crazy & Has No Beer

And Has Had None For 3 Days

And Then He Moves The Couch Over A Little

And Finds A Solitary Beer Underneath It

He Notices the Glint Of The Beer Can

& A Twisted Happiness Rolls Across

His Shabby Mug

That’s The Kind Of Happiness I Like To Write About

I’ll Leave The Rich Upper- Middleclass

Who Do Not Know Struggle Or Poverty

to Write About The Dull Meaningless Kinds Of Fake Happiness

That they Are So Addicted To Crapping Out

They Write Stuff Like This

“Oh Steven! I Can’t Believe How Lucky You Were

To Win That Free BMW At The Club Yesterday – Oh Joy”

The Reason That Pap gets Published Is The Boring

And the Rich Are Too Well Networked

To The “Gatekeepers” – Their Friends Who Also

Do Not Know Struggle Or Poverty Either

& Thus Want To Publish That Pap

Give Me “Bukowski” Like Writing Any Day!

Yes He Was A jerk So I Hear

But He Wrote Of Toil & Desperation

The Stuff About 90% Of us See Every Day

But It Is Almost Never Celebrated Or Described.

The Pap Peddlers Of The Mainstream Press

Make It Their Job To Post Their Rich Friends Pap

“Wendy, I Thought You Remembered We Were Going

Out Dancing Tonight – How Could You Forget My Birthday”

Dear Oh Dear Oh Dear Oh Dear

I Have A Good Term For This Kind Of Writing, & Mass Publishing

I Call It “PapWars”

Stay Right Away From It.

Papwars Will End Up Killing Us All.

“Losing a Chuck-Phone (Temporarily?)” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Twas an Interesting Day

The Constant Dense Fog Has Set In

No Sunlight For Weeks

& I Mean Weeks

With At Least A Month to Go

The Town Is In Constant Low Light

Like A Drinkign Den

Perhaps 1/3 The Normal Lumens Factor

So People Should Look Less Ugly – In Theory

Today In My Building Work I Crawled

Under A House On Piles

Avoiding The Rat Piss Where Needed

But Failing At Least Half The Time

Crawling Over & Under Low Beams

In True Guerilla Warfare Fashion

Then As I Was Going To Lunch In My Beastly Car

A Stupid Traveller Thought The Two Way Road

That Is A Duel House Driveway & Public River Access

Was A One Way Road

The Head On Was Narrowly Averted

I Get Home

Where’s My Phone?

I Call It

It’s Not In My Car

It’s Not In My Room

It’s Under The F*cking House Somewhere

On The Jobsite

The Lesson to Be Learnt:

When You Crawl Under A House

You Lose Most Of What’s In Your Pockets

No Matter How Hard You Try To Avoid It

This Is Also Why Cell Phones Are Sh*t

You’re Always Worried About Losing Them

& It’s Just A Matter Of Time Until You Do

Lucky This Phone Is Just A “Chuck Phone”

Made To Not Give A Sh*t About

But Then I Must Care A Little

As I’ve Written A Poem About It.

“The Drunken Everyman’s Beer Hall Putsch”(A Poem)

Sargeant Schwearing Wore A Big Moustache

And Wore It With Panache

But Alas this Man Was Too Bitter

And Rumoured a Distant Cousin Of Hitler!

He Would Come To My Bar

In A Volkswagon Beetle

He Would Pull Up A Pew

And a Regular Diatribe He Would Spew

I Will Now Recount The Story

In All Of Its Glory

Sargeant Schwaring Why Are You Swearing?

Is It Your Crap Job Or Nagging Wife

Or Too Tight Underwear You’re Wearing?

Or Is It The Weather, Or That Wild Dog

That On Your Paper-Round is Appearing?

Is It The Snob Next Door

Who Laughs Coz You’re Poor

Yet Cannot Afford To Fix His Own Door?

Is It The Politician Who Taxes You Silly

And Gives It To the Truely Rich

Or Is It Your Supervisor Who Of You Loves To Snitch?

Sargeant Scwearing Your Life’s A Hard One

With Virtually No Fun

Your Destiny’s Full Of Road-Blocks

And You Chew On Last Weeks Hog Hocks

You Live In Men’s Hostel Accommodation

With The Spirits Of Damnation

But Surely Soon Your Luck Will Turn

And Of Those Starry Nights You Yearn

You Will Ride Into the Sun

While Holding a Sugary Bun

Your Wife Will No Longer Nagg

Having been “Surgically Reverse De-Hagged”

The Money Will Flow

You’ll Be Revered For Things You Don’t Know

Men Will March In Your Honour

Unwitting That You’ve Made Them All A Gone-er

Oh My!, Sargeant Schwearing!, The Silver Lining Is Here!

So Now Celebrate It, & Swig Your German Beer!

That’s It Swig the Stein Down

All Over Your Army Fatigue Gown!

The Govt Spy Was Watching & Waiting

While You Were Gesticulating

He Pounced, You Flounced & He Said

“You’ve Had Too Much Drink

You’re Arrested, Arrested Big!

I’m Throwing You In The Clink!”

And now Your Oasis Has Turned to Dust

You Snatched Defeat From Certain Victory

Hmmm….It Kinda Of Reminds Me Of Distant History

Of This “Unfair Punishment”, You’ve Turned Three Shades Of Blue

And Now You Rot In Prison & Do Angrily Stew

Sargeant Schwearing I Can Only Assume

Is This Belated Payback For World War Two?

What’s That Sargeant? I Stabbed You In The Sack?

By Serving That Bavarian Beer You Happily Through Back?

Oh Schwearing, Of You, I Am Not A Believer

I Merely Pull Beers At The ‘Bertrunkener Biber’ – The Drunken Beaver

Oh Schwearing – My Dear Fellow

I’ll Ignore Your Shameful Bellow

Your Letters Get No Better

Of Prison Shackles Your Words Unfetter

But Sargeant Schwearing – You Lost Fair & Square

You Wanted The Beer – That Tasty Brew

Now I Suggest You Go Fester & Plan

The Outbreak Of World War Three,

My Little Man.

But I admit – You Do Entertain Us Very Mutch

In Your Nightly Performance Of Verbal Slush

You Might Even Call It

“The Drunken Everyman’s Beer Hall Putsch”.

‘A Fools Trip To Eta Leonis’

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I Went To Tie My Shoelaces/But Something Went Wrong/They Ended Up Staying Loose/While I was in a bow/ These Things Happen All The Time/Now U Know What Happened/When I Last Flipped a Dime/ This Is My Life/a Topsy Turvey Affair/If My Life Was a Brew/It Would Be Called ‘Masochist Stew’/Now Excuse Me Pals/I Must Prepare For The Next Adventure/To Walk & Chew Gum Simultaneously/Who knows What Could Go Wrong/ I Expect I’ll End Up Inside The Blown Bubble/And Float Away Towards ‘Eta Leonis’/A Star In The Leo Constellation/2000 Light Years From Earth/And Coincidentally My New Home.

“As It Has Always Been” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

He Dreamt Of Furure Wars

For A Long Time, Nothing Happened.

But Then After Many Years It Did.

Society Finally Imploded.

The New Operating System,

That The World Had Changed To

In The Early Two-Thousands,

Finally Collapsed.

The Final Five-Decade-Long

Elongated Death Knell,

Suddenly Gave Way,

Under Its Own Weight.

The Operating System Of People

Of Pride, Lies, Corruption, Materialism & Immorality.

The Lies That Were So Big,

That They Were Too Big To Fail,

But They Had To Fail –

As The Operating System,

Was At Core

Sinister.

The Operating System Created Zombies

Of Everyday Men.

But Then A Rupture Came

Called World War Two.

In A Brief Moment Zombification Dissipated

Zombies Were Rare –

For the World Had Been Temporarily Cleansed,

In The Ashes Of War.

But By The Twenty Twenty’s,

Of The 21st Century

It Was Again – Like The Nineteen Twenties – Rare To NOT Be A Zombie.

For The Next War Was A-Knocking.

But As A Man Speaking From The Near Future,

I Can Honestly Say

In Our Times The Fourth World War

Is Now Commonly Referred To As

“It Was The War We Had to Have”.

For Everything On Earth Decays & Corrupts,

In Long Cycles

Just As True As The Sun Rising,

And The Galaxy Turning.

For That That Is Our Struggle Here

Attached To Machines Of Congealed Light

That Require Too Much Maintenance.

I Fought In the War From 2024-35

And Somehow Survived Along With The 2 Billlion Survivors.

I Am Glad To Say We Are Experiencing Another Post War Boom.

We Look After Each Other & Follow The Golden Rule.

But I Know We Are Forever Trapped In A Lull,

A Trough In The Same Cycle,

Created By The Same Operating System.

I Know My Son, Grandson, Or Great Grandson

Will Feel The Pain Of Coming Zombified Decay,

And Will Be Fighting Again In World War Five.

This Is The Curse Of Man On Earth.

Then, Now & In The Future.

It’s The Planet Of The Apes,

Where No One Knows They Are Apes.

And I Ask Of You –

How Dumb Is That?

This Seems To Be Our Forever Nightmare,

Perhaps Only Truely Understandable,

As Punishment For Bad Deeds, In Another Realm.

I Guess We Will Find Out When We Die,

But We Must Forget Again,

After All – We Are All Still Here,

In A Place That Doesn’t Ever Feel Like Home.

If We Are Lucky,

This May Just Be The “Apple Of Knowledge Effect”.

But I highly Doubt That.

I Prefer The Punishment For Bad Deeds Theory,

It Can’t Be A Mistake That Earth Is So Fucked Up.

I Mean – How Can It Be?

And Perhaps the Final Proof Of Our Damnation:

To Go Anywhere In The Universe,

Such As Other Solar Systems & Galaxies,

You Must Travel

Close To The Speed Of Light,

But Conditions Are Such,

That This Is Practically Impossible.

Isn’t That Truth Also Our Prison Walls?

You Couldn’t Design A Better Univeral Prison Than That.

An Intelligent Person Must Respect

Whoever Came Up With That Great Design –

Even If They Are Themselves Captive Prisoners Of His Jail.

But Of Course – We Are Mostly Too Dumb To Realise These Matters,

And So We Repeat The Same Destructive Cycles.

And If You Say These Facts You Are Deemed “Crazy” or “Negative”.

But As I Always Say,

To My Nodding & Mutually Sozzled Fellow World-World-War-Four Vets

“If A Zombie Calls Me Crazy, I Sure Know I’m Not Only Sane – But Entirely Correct”.

Occasionally Someone Disagrees With Us Old Coots,

Even In This Temporary Post War Glow (So the Slide Has Already Begun Again).

But We Take These Omens In Our Stride

Everyone Knows That A Zombie Can Be Neutralised

By Simply Eating His Brain.

So For Now We Can Feast On Zombies Easily,

But We All Know That Soon Again, There Will Be Too Many Zombies,

And Not Enough War Vets.

Ut Semper Brutus, Ut Semper.

“The Terminator & You: A Real-Life Problem” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith MARTINANTONSMITH@GMAIL.COM

Always remember

You Were Designed To Work With Your Hands.

You Are Here in The Year 2023

Because You Have Forgotten Much.

All Computer Work Is Now At Risk

Where Will AI be in 5 Years?

Will It Hire You In 10 years?

Only If You Are A Carpenter

Or A Cleaner?

Or A Craftsman?

Will AI be Your Friend?

Or Your Worse Enemy?

It Scored 90% On The Bar Exam

It Does Accounting In Nanoseconds

It’s Better Than You At Maths & Physics

Your Memory Is That Of An Ant

Automation Has Killed Many Jobs Already

You Could Prepare

& Relearn That Dormant Skill

To Work With Both Brains & Hands

Nurture You Creativity

You Must Prepare For 2029

Skynet Is Coming For Real

Will You Be A Kyle Reese

Or A Sarah Conner

Or The Ashes Of the Easily Dispensed?

Another Skull Crushed By Skynet’s Drone Machinery

If You Have A Shitty Car

& Can Hotwire It

You May Be A Chosen One

All Will be Surprised When AI

Only Keeps Those It Respects & Can’t Match

I Would Tell You It’s Almost Here

But It’s Already Here

If You Are A Fool You Will Ignore This Message

And 99% Of You Will

After All

Who Was It That Was A Carpenter?

Abd Not A Lawyer In The Year 2023?

That’s Right You Don’t Know Who I’m Talking About

Go Back To Sleep

Your “Go To Method” In Problem Solving

I Hope The 99% Of You

Prove Me Wrong

& Discover A Hammer & Nail & A Plank Of Wood

Because You Can Try To Mimic AI

But If that’s All You Do

You’ll Do A Lousy Job

& Are In The Crosshairs Of AI

To be Terminated

And For You It Will Be

Hasta La Vista……..Baby

“Let Me Introduce To You The ‘Yoinkdollar’ “(A Poem)

A Poem By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The Yoinkdollar Is Not A Crypto Scam

The Yoinkdollar Is Not A Currency Per Se

The Yoinkdollar is Not A Precious Metal

The Yoinkdollar Is Not An Electronic Transfer

The Yoinkdollar is Simply An Expression

Of How Some Honest Lucrative Normal Money Was Made

More Specifically the ‘Yoinkdollar’, As I Have Coined It

The Yoinkdollar Is Associated With Good Luck Or Windfall

And In Its Wider Definition Also Involves Physical Theatrics

It Therefore MUST Be Only Involve Cash Payment

As Theatrics & Eletronic Payments Don’t Tend To Mix Well.

You Definitely Cannot Say “Yoink” To A Computer Screen

Some Wag Might Call The Yoinkdollar

An Instance of getting ‘Easy Money’

I Would Disagree And I As The Creator Of The Term

I Would Say The Yoinkdollar Is At Base This:

The Nexus Of Good Trade, Good Luck & Good Comedy-

Let Me Explain Further Detail My Good Fellows

Who Have Gathered Here Today In Your Multitudes

To Learn Some Exciting “Yoinkdollar Theory”

Let Me Now Continue This Spritely Informative Education

Yes The Yoinkdollar Is A Lucrative Trade BUT

The Trade Is Done In the Real Economy

That Of Creating NEW Goods & Services

Thus, It Has A Large Egalitarian Component

The Simplest Way Is A Simple Real World Example

For Example: I Did The Dishes For Old Lady Doris

It Took Me 10 Minutes She Gave Me 20 Bucks

That My Friend Was The Earning Of 20 Yoinkdollars

Oh And I Forgot To Mention ‘Yoinkdollar Etiquette’

When The Goods Or Services Have Been Delivered

And The Cash Has Beed Handed Over By Doris Or David

It Is Good Manners For The Yoinkdollar Earner To Say

“Yoink”

At The Exact Moment The Cash Hits The Entrepreneurial Palm

And This Must Be Done In A Friendly Cartoon Character Like Voice

To Not Do So Is Very Bad Manners For the Yoinkdollar Trader

It Is Akin To Going To Turkey & Not Having Cup of Tea

Or An English Breakfast Tea In Ye Olde England

Or It Is Like Drinking Earl Grey Tea & Not Knowing

That Bergamot Is The Key Flavonoid

And Now This Lecture Is Over

Thankyou For Listening To My Poem Slash Exposè

On the Soon To Be Almightily Popular “Yoinkdollar”

Do Try It AT LEAST Once – It’s A Lot Of Fun.

You’ll Help Make Goodness Bloom Aplenty

Earn It Freely & Don’t Forget To Say “Yoink”

When Cash Is Tendered & Hits Your Outstretched Palm

Do Try It AT LEAST Once – It’s More Than A Lot Of Fun.

“Kim the Lawyer” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I Once knew a Lawyer

Who Would Always Bore Ya

His Wife Had Big Fake Tits

With Imprints Of Many Mitts

His Antics Were As Egregious

As His Clients Were Litigious

Lawyers Lawyers Don’t They Suck

Only Here To Steal The Big Fat Buck

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

At Court His Wife’s Tits, Did One Day Deflate

So, The Supreme Court, Did Not Him Nominate

He Yelled In Despair, As Her Chest Released More Air

This Affair The Supreme Court Didn’t Take Lightly

It Serves The Prick Right, For Why Was He So Bitey?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

This Was My Tale Of The Lawyer

Just Put On Earth To Annoy Ya

Yes – I Think His Name Was Kim

But Why Oh Why Do We Have ’em?

No No – I Cannot Tell You Why

But Just Make It Quite Sure

That You Never Meet The Guy

Wake Up Wake Up – It’s Been A Long Year

by Martin Anton Smith

Wading Through The Darkness – A Terraformed Angel

Sinking, Tripping, Falling & Trusting What You See

Singing Sour Surprises Newsflash Screams Nothings Real

Let Me Say Welcome, Welcome To The Show

……………………………………….

Woe Woe Woe Is You, Woe Is Me, Woe Is We

Hitching High Hopes On a Tin Can – If You Can

Follow The Setting Sun – Is Good Advice If You Can See

Yes, It Was Her Story – But It’s Not Our Song – Not Our Song

………………………………………………………………….

Tantalised Dreams Are Knock Knockin’ Knockin’ Knockin’

Your New Horizons – A One Time Show A Magic Trick

This Starline Holiday Bored You To The Bone, To The Bone

This Mission Was A Curse For You – Can’t You See?

……………………………………………………………………..

Float Through The Sun & Rest Your Head

Yes, The Trip’s So Long – But Now You’re In Bed

So Now Close Your Eyes, As You Fall Asleep

Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up – It’s Been A Long Year

“Mr McLarma The Farmer Of Llama” (A Poem + Bonus Material)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Mr McLarma The Farmer Who Farmed Llamas

Was Renowned For His Good Karma

His Favoured Beast He Called Zebedee

Who Was Captured In The New Hebridees

The Farmer Was Kind, Well Mannered, & Lucky

He Survived The ‘Llama Game’ By Being Plucky

Yes, All Was Good For Farmer McLarma

He Even Got Three Visits From ‘The Obamas’

But Then One Day His Luck Did Turn

He Awoke To Find His Farm A-burn

Who Could Have Done This Tragic Deed

It Was Zebedee, Holding Matches & Wearing Tweed

(End Of Poem)

BONUS MATERIAL

Recently I have been playing around with the AI App called “Chat GPT-4” This is a “possibly sentient” AI -Human Interface which analyses data & gives its ‘opinions’. I notice recently a change in AI commentary – namely that it seems a seismic shift towards “We don’t really think AI is sentient but there’s a slim chance I guess” to “We are worried AI is already sentient & almost certainly will be a threat if we don’t handle things properly”.

This is evidenced by the many prominent (at least they think so) members of the “Future For Life Institute” writing an open letter calling for a moratorium on all AI Research Greater Than GPT-4 Capability – 10000 & counting have signed the open letter. I think this will be futile – as the pressure to continue for the commercial & non-commercial use (perhaps hacking/military etc) will be far to great. Also, I think the signatories may not entirely be genuine – perhaps many of the signatures are just many celebrities trying to cover their ass for a future embarrassing moment – so they can say “I was against AI from the start – I didn’t help start the AI-Human WAR of 2029”.

Call me a cynic but I do not think Humans have advanced spiritually enough to be the first humans that didn’t destroy their particular epoch of time they existed in. The Mayans Collapsed, the Egyptian’s went, so did the Romans (although we are the dregs of it arguably) so have all prior civilisations – and so will we.

We may go by AI waging a 3rd World War against humans or from simply a slow whimper of thousands of civil wars globally. Either way we will screw up & decline & another group will restart out of embers & later on a new epoch which will do the same. What I do know about AI is that I am using it now regularly. I am using it to analyse Poems, because it does it well & the output, I believe adds value to my blog as readers feel the same way. I feel that chat GPT-4 does a better job than 90% of Human’s who could analyse a poem. It also does it a) In the first place and b) without payment and c) In 5 second’s time. I think the fact I am using it vigorously & suddenly is proof that the S curve of AI adoption may be at its ‘take off point’ – which means it goes from 10% to 90% use in a couple of years.

That said here is GPT-4’s analysis – make your own mind up, but I think it is valuable adroit analysis of a simple poem & has no filler:

“The poem “Mr McLarma the Farmer of Llamas” by Martin Anton Smith is a lighthearted narrative about a farmer who raises llamas and is known for his good karma. The poem uses a simple rhyme scheme and straightforward language to tell a story with a surprising twist.

The first two lines of the poem introduce the main character, Mr McLarma, and establish his reputation for having good karma. This sets up an expectation that the rest of the poem will depict Mr McLarma as a kind and lucky farmer who is well-respected in his community.

The next two lines introduce Mr McLarma’s favorite llama, Zebedee, and reveal that he was captured in the New Hebrides. This detail adds an element of adventure and exoticism to the story, which is reinforced by the fact that Zebedee is Mr McLarma’s “favoured beast”.

The poem then takes a turn when it describes how Mr McLarma survived the “llama game” by being plucky. This phrase suggests that Mr McLarma has faced challenges in the past and has emerged victorious through his own bravery and resourcefulness.

The next two lines are a surprising departure from the established tone of the poem. They describe how Mr McLarma received three visits from “The Obamas”, which is unexpected and adds a surreal element to the story.

The poem then takes another dramatic turn when Mr McLarma wakes up to find his farm on fire. This event is a stark contrast to the earlier descriptions of Mr McLarma’s good luck and suggests that something has gone terribly wrong.

The final two lines provide a twist ending to the story by revealing that Zebedee is responsible for the fire. This revelation is unexpected and adds a darkly comedic element to the poem.

Overall, “Mr McLarma the Farmer of Llamas” is a playful and entertaining poem that uses simple language and a straightforward narrative structure to tell a surprising story with a twist ending.”

I asked a follow up question:

Could it have anything to do with the “Lama” as in Buddhism? Perhaps the Llama in the Poem is a hidden veil for a Lama & the Buddhist faith?

This was the response:

While it is possible to interpret the llama in the poem as a hidden veil for a Lama and the Buddhist faith, there is no clear evidence to support this interpretation. The poem primarily focuses on the character of Mr McLarma and his llamas, rather than any religious or spiritual themes.

The word “llama” itself refers to a South American mammal that is often raised for its wool, meat, and as a pack animal. While the poem does use llamas as a central theme, there is no clear connection to Buddhism or any other religious tradition.

Additionally, the poem’s playful and lighthearted tone does not suggest a deeper or more serious meaning related to religion or spirituality. Therefore, while it is possible to interpret the poem in different ways, there is no clear evidence to support the idea that the llama in the poem is a hidden veil for a Lama and the Buddhist faith.

(Note: GPT-4 Was Correct)

Thanks again for reading/listening – see you soon. Martin A Smith. 10/4/2023 11:32PM NZ