My Paper, My Words is a collection of essays, stories, and poems that reflect the challenges of a middle-class husband and father trying to navigate a rapidly changing political, religious, and technological landscape of post-911 America.
For me, the biggest perk of retirement by far is time. Time to spend as you see fit, doling it out for reading, learning, creating, or just being available to my kids.
Lately, I’ve been reading essays and biographical pieces about Sylvia Plath, the brilliant and emotionally troubled American poet and author who took her own life in February of 1963.
Plath’s confessional poetry and prose unpacked gender constraints, patriarchy, and mental health with a raw and emotional acuity that made her a feminist icon. Her passionate and tumultuous marriage and very public divorce from poet Ted Hughes was emotionally distressful and humiliating, but also a catalyst for the most creative period of Plath’s career as a writer.
I haven’t read Plath’s most seminal works, “The Bell Jar” and “Ariel”, but with retirement, I have the opportunity to do so.
I wrote the following poem about Sylvia Plath and used the AI music engine Suno to put my words to song. Here is the link to the song, Trapped Inside the Bell Jar.
Trapped Inside the Bell Jar
Sylvie and Ted lie in a bed of false hope and betrayal in poems and prose where no one knows veracity from portrayal
A suffocating madness let’s the dullness settle in a manic wit, the perfect fit of grit inside her grin
Trapped inside the Bell Jar skinned knees pulled to her chest Cracked, she cried and fell far too far to be addressed
Her pain becomes obsession A catalyst of sorts Words explode in expressions of poisonous retorts
She digs her knife into the headboard etching hearts into the wood shavings fall like paper dolls of misspent womanhood
Trapped inside the Bell Jar skinned knees pulled to her chest Cracked, she cried and fell far Too far to be addressed
With tape and wet tea towels sealing windows and locked doors the sad girl that things happen to dies on the kitchen floor
“Please call Doctor Horder “ Her note said nothing more Nick and Frieda safe and sound Behind their bedroom door
Trapped inside the Bell Jar skinned knees pulled to her chest Cracked, she cried and fell far Too far to be addressed
My Paper, My Words is a collection of essays, stories, and poems that reflect the challenges of a middle-class husband and father trying to navigate a rapidly changing political, religious, and technological landscape of post-911 America.
What to do with a shoe box full of lyrics, looking for a place to live?
I’ve always wanted to set some of my work to music, but because I have no musical skills, nothing ever came of it.
I’ve been seeing a lot of AI-generated content on social media lately, so this morning I created an account on Suno.com, picked a genre, pasted a poem I wrote years ago (Baby Teeth and Bullets), and clicked Generate.
I wasn’t sure what to expect as I watched the progress wheel on the Suno website spin round and round.
In about 1 minute, Suno set my poem to music in accordance with a genre and other characteristics I selected.
I was amazed at how quickly Suno created the song and, even though I feel a little conflicted (guilty?) about using AI to create art, I was giddy at the result.
Checkout Baby Teeth and Bullets the song and let me know what you think about it and about the ethics of using AI to generate art.