Here’s another piece of AI-generated art inspired by my poem “Blood-Black Heaven Fantasies.” The art was generated by using the program, Night Cafe. Here’s the text from the poem:
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You are my last hope in this rotting city of thieves
The only gore-angel that I still believe
The agony and venom that I receive
Makes me love this sugary disease
Nightmares, visions, cries, and dreams
Your splendor brings me to my knees
I left the city, my feet aching, left you far behind
I followed the scar-faced vagabond who was deaf and blind
To the slaughter fields where I thought I could find
The grave of my father and my tribe which has been confined
Alas, you followed me there, your eyes seared and shined
With the ferocity of a hundred demons and the spirits of war
We marched among the living and stepped over the corpse
Of the burning man who burns no more
And the deity children who dared confront us
I am no longer a man but a beaten down animal
I wander and drift, my homeland in tatters
Pain sears through my body, each and every atom
You are not the liberator whom I thought would bring peace
But a grim reaper and Hades’ ravenous beast
Murder me now, give me my final rest
Here is my knife, sink it into my chest!
But you’d rather see me suffer, die slow and agonizingly
Wither away until my pain is gratifying to you
You are a creature, a truant, a curse against men
And I will hang myself in these killing fields
Bring this all to an endShare this:
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Here’s a piece of artificial intelligence-generated art I created by feeding some lines of a recent poem of mine into the program. I like how this turned out! Super creepy. The poem that inspired the robot to create the art is called “Brain Bleed,” which I published on the blog recently.
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Hunger rips my insides
My stomach explodes with shame
I shouldn’t have done that back there
Making the public believe their savior is a counterfeit and he’s really out to extinguish the cells in their tiny brains
Out here, in the wilderness, my dreamscape is abandoned
Yet, it’s full of the blackness and dirt of galaxies
Dark matter, everywhere, clouding my eye sockets
And burning up the skies with auburn alien lights
Those meteors are not naturally caused phenomena
They are celestial divinations manifested from our persecution complex
Judgment days on summer nights, firefly obsession
The insects cover us all and puncture our leathery skin
And the sky opens and dumps buckets of blood rain
It smells like the fatal sins of Saint Francis
And these black-blood drops of liquid taste like outlawed heavens
That I saw in the dreams of the dead children
We never stop dreaming, hoping for our illusions to be realized
But once we get there, it’s so cold and hostile
That we wish the demon deities would let us go back
Heaven is right here! Come get your salvation!
I’m selling it for only $29.99, and you get a free trial
Cancel any time, stream your pornographic paradise straight to your mind
That’s what the dead want, just to be close to us
And cuddle our warm bodies at nightfallShare this:
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Weird fiction has quickly become one of my favorite literary genres. I was always a fan of Edgar Allan Poe, which led me to Lovecraft, which opened up whole new avenues of weird horror writers.
Though weird fiction is often associated with the past, such as writers like Lovecraft and Arthur Machen before 1940, there has been a resurgence in interest in weird fiction in recent years. Some call this “The New Weird,” including authors like Jeff VanderMeer and China Miéville.
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Trapped in a time loop
My face fell off, I picked it back up, and it tasted of dust
A spoonful of sugar for my difficulties
Like an acid dose that makes my eyes hemorrhage
Why did you bring me here, father?
At the nexus of sin and glory, I chose the wrong door
I don’t recognize these colors, and the animals and flowers are not from this planet or any of the worlds we have traveled to so far
My skull weighs so much that it falls off my shoulders
Rolls down the hill and destroys the city
I feel mortified for all the times I didn’t mark the calendar
The days when Death showed up and coughed in my face
Oh, no – the time loop is re-starting
Time to slit the skin off my body and hurdle into the black hole
Wish me wellShare this:
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The woman’s body had been dismembered. Entirely and utterly torn apart, pieces of which were strewn about the apartment. And there, in the dark, we found the symbol of the killer glowing on the wall: the two Xs for eyes and the smiley face. It was the third such case this month.
“I wanna know, how does he not track blood everywhere when he leaves the place?” I asked my partner, Matthew. “He’s careful, but not that careful. If he was more careful, he wouldn’t leave such a mess.”
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