Great Expectorations

This was written in response to W3 #237 that prompts us to write about abstract nouns. It falls woefully short of the constraints, so please feel free not to read, especially beyond line 24.

Great Expectorations
To Autumn:
Season of brain fog and mellow fruitlessness

I. Abstractions
It is long past time
these wishy-washy abstractions
got real and came back down to earth
where the rest of us live.

Let Joy be unconfined.
She has served her full sentence.
Release her.

Hope is still doing community service.
Optimism remains on permanent probation.
Gratitude, thy name is writ in water
(hosepipe ban permitting).

Spleen is barred from the premises.

Let loose the therapy dogs of mindlessness,
trained to sniff out hopefulness
and hold it accountable.

II. Employee Information
Joy is a pre-existing condition.
Hopefulness may be habit-forming.

Optimism? We have a cure for that.
Hope is a thing with feathers
but not hypoallergenic.

Employees exhibiting excessive gratitude
may have their attitudes confiscated
and be escorted from the premises.

The quality of mercy is not strained
but should be taken with food.

Spite, properly managed, is no cause for concern.
We recommend a daily dose of discontent.

Do not discontinue your spleen
without consulting your physician
or your line manager.

Mindfulness may cause drowsiness
and narcissistic reactions.
Do not drive, operate machinery,
or facilitate a wellbeing circle.

If you experience prolonged optimism,
inform the relevant staff
or call the emergency services.

III. Notices and Warnings
Please be advised that truth may cause offence.

To thine own self be true,
but be sure to keep it to yourself.

Saying what you think
may be offensive to others
and will be noted on your file.

Hate is a very serious matter.
Please report it,
along with any opinions.

Please bring your full self to work.
Not that one.

The best lack all conviction
and fill in the appropriate form
by close of play Friday.

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,
unless, of course, the opinions become unacceptable.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit
that you do talk an awful lot of cobblers.

To see ourselves as others see us
is strictly prohibited under the dignity policy.

Excuse me, something has come up.
It has been coming up
since the mandatory in-service training
on psychological safety.
Stuff your lanyard.
Stuff your icebreaker.
Stuff your trust fall.
Stuff your values wall.
Stuff the laminated kitten
hanging on for dear life
beside the gratitude tree.

Great expectations:
that the mood will lift,
that the facilitators will finally leave,
that grumpiness, discontent and normality will be restored,
and that we can carry on, keep calm,
and get the job done.

IV. The Coda: Other Matters Requiring Attention
Death, be not proud:
your call is important to us.
Please hold.
This call may be recorded for quality purposes.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,
until the next rebrand.

Tyger, tyger, burning bright:
Please keep a safe distance from open flames.

Whose woods these are I think I know;
they have been closed pending a risk assessment.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
waits for no buses.

Pride comes before a fall,
but not in the dictionary
or the competency framework.

Season of brain fog and mellow fruitlessness.

And the gratitude journal, naturally,
must still be kept religiously.

______________

The A.I. has its say: Season of cloudy-mindedness and fruitfulness of the mellow

As you can see, my alleged poem is stuffed with scraps of quotations, mangled bits of poetry spliced with bureaucratic instructions and public announcements. I pasted it into an AI checker to see what our mystical overlords might make of something cobbled together from the fragments with which my alleged brain is stuffed and that are shored against my ruins.

Verdict: 68% AI-generated! Which, of course, is not surprising given that this masterpiece is made up of the words of others just mixed, matched, and mangled for comic effect.

But here’s the best thing. I asked the same AI to humanize it for me, and this was the result; it’s even funnier!

Great Expectorations
To Autumn:
Season of cloudy-mindedness and fruitfulness of the mellow.
(Keats put through a corporate wellness management-speak is now a puzzle.)

I. Abstractions
It is high time
that these wishy washy abstractions
become real and grounded.

Let Joy roam free.
They’ve fulfilled their full sentence.
They’re free!
(The pronouns go rogue.)

Hope is still doing community service.
Optimism is still on probation.
Gratitude thy name is written on the water
(or hose pipe ban permitting).
Spleen is banned.

Let the dog of mindless therapy run wild.
They’ll find all the hopeful people.

II. Employee Info
Joy is an established condition.

Hope may be addictive.

Optimism can be cured.

Hope is feathered
and not hypo-allergic.
(Hope, feathered but not tarred. Dickinson meets the product-safety department.)

Employees displaying too much gratitude
may have their attitudes taken away
and be removed from the premises.

Mercy has no need to strain
but should be eaten with food.
(A pharmaceutical warning provides an upgrade for Portia.)

Spite can be a good thing

We recommend daily doses of negativity.

Don’t stop taking your spleen
without asking your doctor
or line-manager.

Mindfulness can make you sleepy
and narcissistic.
Don’t drive, use machinery
or help with wellbeing circles.
(Apparently, wellbeing circles are a recognized workplace hazard.)

If you feel too positive for too long
notify the relevant staff
or call emergency services.

III. Notices
Be aware that truth may offend.

Be true to yourself
but keep it to yourself.
(Nice crisp edit.)

Talking about your thoughts
can offend others
and will be recorded.

Hate is serious.
Please report any hate
and opinions.

Please be your true self at work.
Not that one.

The best have no beliefs
so please complete the correct form
by the end of play on Friday.

Love is not love
if it changes its mind
when it finds opinions that are unacceptable.
(Shakespeare smooth-brained.)

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
admit you have a lot to say.
(The bland replaces the vulgar.)

To see ourself as others see us
is banned due to dignity policy.

Excuse me.
I’ve had this idea
since we had the compulsory in service training
on psychological safety.
Stuffed lanyard.
Stuffed ice-breaker.
Stuffed trust fall.
Stuffed values wall.
Stuffed laminated kitten
clinging to the side of the gratitude tree.
(This is real comedy upgrade.)

Great expectations:
That we will feel better.
That the facilitators will leave.
That we will be grumpy, negative and normal again.
And we can get on with things, stay calm
and do the job.

IV. Coda: Things to note
Death be not proud:
Your call is important to us.
Please wait.
This call may be recorded.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever
until the next re-brand.

Tyger tyger burning bright:
Stay well away from open flames.

Whose woods these are I think I know
they’ve been closed due to risk assessment.

Time like an ever rolling stream
does not wait for buses.
Pride comes before a fall
but not in the dictionary
or competency framework.

Cloudy-mindedness and fruitfulness of the mellow.
(What can one say: this is just brilliant. Deranged bureaucratic improv. AI doesn’t get the jokes and puns so accidentally produces more comedy.)

And we must still keep the gratitude journal.

______________

Gloriously, the AI checker inadvertently became a co-author, and a rather gifted one at that. It produced a parody of my parody while demonstrating, in real time, almost every failing the original poem was having a go at.

The best thing is that it not only made it worse, it has also made it more convincingly corporate, more incoherent, to the point of being ridiculous.

So a poem written by a human, with deliberate literary allusions, repetitions, bureaucratic manager-speak and parallel constructions that – like it or not – was rather studiously constructed with an attempt at satire (you can decide whether it works and is effective or not) gets labelled 68% AI-generated. The machine then attempts to make it sound human by removing much of the control and introducing random verbal absurdity.

The result is a piece that sounds like something produced by an AI trying to imitate a human who is trying to imitate an AI.

So I asked AI: “Why did the detector say 68%?

AI answered: “Detectors mostly measure predictability: even rhythm, parallel structure, tidy phrasing. A parody that depends on recognised quotations and exact cadence is predictable by construction, because the reader has to see the original coming for the swerve to work. The ‘humanizer’ works by degrading exactly those qualities. It’s a roughness machine, and roughness isn’t the same as being human. The score also says nothing about authorship. Those tools are unreliable, and they famously flag polished human prose.”

AI Recommended: “My recommendation is to stay with your version, and perhaps steal the taxidermy idea. A single “Stuffed” line placed after the imperatives might repay the burst, with the kitten as the one thing the regime really did mount on the wall.”

Thank-you: David and D. Avery. And with thanks and apologies to all those poets whose words I have mangled. And thank you, AI, for always being willing to help out!