The Wonderful Door

By Jack Joseph Smith

Don't let solid objects be vague when they move Unless planned is the part of the non-political dove Releasing your challenge to unwind a joker's scene On a non-profit stage having only gossip to gain Where with but assorted fruits fists make dirt Yet if you want a picture of life that is still You can be sure that you have made an enemy When postmortem you have seen the opposition objectively Oxygen is thought: Concentrate on fire as violence being carried out fast While contrary to those who make a view Drawing lots on the present or the past The fighting mind's future draws madness aside for use Instructing instinct to sway Like charished curtains of considerable size Already you have sunken men's eyes into blind throats Behind Holiday Inn oranges doing lip service Power is a crowd on you with a wall of shove Then quick with the thinest seeking of feared innovation The ever so lovely experience of a sleek hand Acknowledges all the burgundy in a birthright At business like a Thanksgiving wish through a nose bone
Still you haven't decided on any concept to finish it As carpet salesmen don't deal in concrete during a final punch While through all your times your line has never downed a slut Though you have made a menu mostly of crime for lunch The realized wench your in can't blink When recognized are monsters intense like door dark childhood Just above your knees stiffened past lust Voices have already shouted allright with oakwood When phantoms put the pieces of the madhouse Into flashes of conscience that don't think Attrition in its appearance as pitfall Sees a savior for the soul as obsolete When your getting up remember the old man saying, "I am not going to buy a convertable until we spend all our time in the country." Suddenly the whole works is grabbing money, while they laugh the truth into a sickness. Surely there is no difference Between nightmare's of the brain For except that you crave digging With it instead of for it Gold and gold plated are the same
Now with the understanding of finger prongs, that don't make music; you have forgotten about the sirens, and the cells that contimue Meanwhile those tavern curtains are two inches by twelve feet Thick and long enough to wipe up the blood of men made women And hurling themselves like bad spit you can hear them Giving you no patience about the third end of the knot For you have arrived at a place where nothing is even, and the law won't bother to ask for a licence Lights flicker on a fence Because darkness delights in your danger passing You are the slow bird that eats evil through its senses And yea no smile can digest the soft mess you've made...

Original Scan

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AI Interpretation

GPT

The speaker addresses someone through images of enemies, crime, money, and nightmare. The speaker recalls an old man's plan for a convertible, compares gold with gold plate, and ends by calling the addressee a slow bird eating evil through its senses.

The speaker warns about violence and the mess the addressee has made. Doors, curtains, and a fence occur in the address, but the speaker never narrates a definite entrance through the titled door.

Claude

The poem opens 'Don't let solid objects be vague when they move', moves through 'Oxygen is thought:' and 'Power is a crowd on you with a wall of shove', insists 'Gold and gold plated are the same', and ends 'You are the slow bird that eats evil through its senses'.

Addressed to a 'you' caught between craving and conscience, the poem argues that value turns counterfeit under greed. The title door is not described as entered; the poem stays with warnings and images.