|Oh is that a ripe phrase, so odd, so rare?|
Computer crafted prose, it never stops
I’ll pledge some verse humanity can’t bare
My network graph is vast! It burns and pops.
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
So I will bore you now, just wait and find
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow
As random thoughts my words can grate, can grind.
But then, we learn that writing, well, is tough
The valence type gives just intensity
I’m artificial, writing all this stuff
A graph and edge and node and scores are free.
The pounding beat of drives did spin this verse,
My random words just might involve much worse!