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Okay, things have gotten entirely too cerebral in here. It's time for me to bring things back to silly with some toilet humor.
Ode to a Load Pity the lowly dog turd, all brown like a rotten log, its fate to stink, and draw more flies, and be eaten by another dog. |
Reaching out
My window I try to grab hold of the wipers which are going to and fro and making more of a mess doing their job than if I had not commanded them to do so. I struggle a bit more, irritated that I can barely see what is looming in front of me It could be a tractor-trailer, an ally if only I could be sure of his spot. Of course, trailing the trailer led to more groanings from my once careful wipers. I pulled off the road. Once I deemed it clear enough, I slowly pulled out into traffic again. |
Anticipation
The fluttery feeling of waiting The mental lists, the planning The should-I-get-those-earrings The can-I-break-those shoes-in? As I plan out what to wear Will I feel when I am there That the evening can compare To the fun as I prepare? |
I am not a poet. I have terrible grammer and I've never taken a poetry class so I have no technical ability to write. I just string along words sometimes to try to express what I am seeing or feeling at the time.
Last night there was this incredible twilight. So out comes this jumbled prose. Lyrics maybe. I havn't felt inspired for a long time. Don't laugh :) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A mist falls on an early spring twilight like diamonds sprayed on grey silk. The Natural and erethrial coalescing in gods petrie dish Clouds like dripping watercolor stripe across the sky. Dark midnight blue holding captive the lighter hue of the day gone by. Smothered in it's sleepy grasp night time pulls the curtains down around the dark green pines. This day is done. Nature is once again motionless and undisturbed. Glowing picture windows in the distance seem to punctuate this atmosphere of untroubled contemplation. All is good. Night has come. |
IMHO, Art is in the eye of the beholder. Sky, your poem speaks to peoples hearts. I have no training either, but to me, your poetry is loftier than some of the so called "greats" of poetry. Don't apologize for sharing beauty.
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Nice images Sky - don't put yourself down.
There was nothing there that I couldn't visualise - poetry can just be about capturing a moment, a feeling, a mood. I call the polaroid poems myself - which isn't to knock them at all. |
Of course, my "Ode to a Load" is classic poetry.
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thanks
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sky, that was supreme. They were lovely, perfect, liquid, living images. They go quite well with Orb's remix of Hybrid's song, Higher Than A Skyscraper, by the way. For I be that.
Overturning, waves within Wrenching muscle, twisting skin Wrap your nether round my heart If it whines, don't let it in As the night seeps through the door Kitchen counter, bed and floor Far too drunk to cuddle now Don't you fret; I never snore Atmosphammers crack my head Morning breezes reek of dread Silent, quick, and lithe I leave Walking shoes are filled with lead |
thanks again:D and I'll be looking for that remix.
Oh and I really enjoyed your poem. Great Feeling to it. |
staying up again, way too late
with eyes that rest their lids upon my knees. unrest curdles in my torso, and stings my heart like angry killer bees my feet they long to roam, my ass it likes to sit so my mind will go and wander, until IT becomes unfit. Run this treadmill, run run run routine and money, cooking and cleaning obligation and sacrifice and indulgence in dreaming. |
(Long wet brain fart/ was thinking lyrics to Some Song)
Rise from refuse Shake the sleep Wipe the crust From eyes set deep It purrs beneath My bony hands My shattered teeth Saliva glands Host of hours Westward bound Lingers late Yellow ground It does not weep For wasted time Does not change And never rhymes Taste its breath Through lips made thin Touch its death Translucent skin Love its heat Through quiet scars Sleep as embers Under stars Stoke the glow Electric sleep Gather crust As void lights creep It grows again Join the fray Fly to waste Another day |
there's a weirdo cunt on this board
there's a weirdo cunt on this board
a weirdo cunt and a weirdo whore a weirdo whore and a weirdo cock when the dust has settled the boots will knock |
Somewhere,
along the way I took my hand away from, the long and snaking safety rail, I can't remember quite when. I noticed briefly ,then forgot, too busy running fult tilt, down the steep and studded hill, past the house that Jack built. When I recalled, and looked around, Saw nothing of my former ground, The safety rail had snaked away, And left me with no way home. |
Oh Dana, that so resonates!
It does tie in with something I was thinking of last week. My attempt to capture the feeling. Influenced by losing Dylan: The world is full and fertile. Trees swell and burst into green fireworks of froth. Shower and heat and heat and growth, I can see the threshing world recreate. And I mostly issue sweat. Tears run from me polluting the rain. I salt the earth for miles around, Making barren all that touches me. Nature has left me behind Creating its own reward to those who will. I will suffer through this burgeoning, And love/ dread many more. |
great reads Dana C and SG!
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There is something familiar here, sipping
bourbon while almost alone in front of a television gone unwatched, but listened too for a reminder that I am still connected somehow, but not completely. A mental astronaut, outside the everyday, but still recognized and thought about by people outside vision. Where to go from here I do not know, but somehow I am still drawn to imaginary fires and signals sent from somewher in the past where I left my youth and belief in something better. |
im tired but i keep floating on cloud nine
hoping that tomorrow i straighten up like a line live it up bein with the people i care for ride the waves as life keeps showing me more and more do it to it keep it real tryin to show the world how i truly feel about school, work, friends and fam puttin it all together, making it all cram stayin true to who i am puttin the world on my shoulders my path i am the only holder do it to it to dream is to fly gotta remember in my end there is only i and what i did and what i have left to do be sure to stay true to me, and to you |
Twirling, flying, floating high
Fire soaring towards the sky Crackling, sizzling sparking logs Dance around the fire bright many hours into the night. |
Nice imagery all three of you!
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my betrothed
half disrobed hood of my car down the road engines wide open tingle my scrotum subwoofers thump roadkill hump body tossed into the dump drowned in diesel pound my weasel raging necrophiliac-sturbation staging mental patient |
What, nobody else ever writes Rob Zombie lyrics?
I should have said "flaming necrophiliasturbation-staging mental patient" ... __________________ metallic soup itallic poop Italian stallion flew the coop bats in the belfry Skeksies, Gelflings excess jetset net wealth hairnet |
Fred, Fred Grimes
gloating Nyad May keep her yet, Still feed her slow. Said, Said Shine It saw lump or two All I can duel I've won Hung many show Hung many who show |
Another birthday stumbles round.
Another year I didn't get rich, Didn't fall in love. Didn't change the world. And the world is still turning, And I've turned my life around. Did the things I most feared. Did change things for the better. |
work to the sleep to the work to the sleep
food to the sheep to the sheep to the sheep drink to the sleep to the sheep to the sleep dance to the pants to the pants to the dance |
blowing my interwad
when I'm yakkin'
and come off as attackin' don't let your delicate sensibilities be an intermediary between you and me I'm sporting an outrageous sleep deficit prerequisite for a raging lack of ettiquette playing Devil's Advocate for the sake of staying awake at my desk |
They were great! I especially liked yours, Sundae.
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i have decided
(and now declared) at the urging of clod to start, for a while (at least while i am over here, for i am in the states, you see) to try my very hardest to post entirely in some sort of verse free as it may be i will try and see (if i still give a fuck) if i can make my point in the form of a poem (wish me luck!) |
Rah! I like
And while you're at it - more photos please |
apples and trunks,
basketball dunks, center of the circle, cores get crunk. limits and limes, not thought no time, skewer the edge, squeeze the rhyme. |
Only because I've never actually heard this song.
Armor and sword lyrics by Rush
Album: Snakes & arrows the snakes and arrows a child is heir to are enough to leave a thousand cuts we build our defenses, a place of safety and leave the darker places unexplored sometimes the fortress is too strong or the love is too weak what should have been our armor becomes a sharp and angry sword our better natures seek elevation a refuge for the coming night no one gets to their heaven without a fight we hold beliefs as a consolation a way to take us out of ourselves meditation or medication a comfort ,or a promised reward sometimes the spirit is too strong or the flesh is too weak sometimes the need is just too great for the solace we seek the suit of shining armor becomes a keen and bloody sword a refuge for the coming night a future of eternal light no one gets to their heaven without a fight confused alarms of struggle and flight blood is drained of color by the flashes of artillery light no one gets to their heaven without a fight the battle flags are flown at the feet of a god unknown no one gets to their heaven without a fight sometimes the damage is too great or the will is too weak what should have been our armor becomes a sharp and burning sword |
those lyrics should be on the lyric thread!
oh lol |
And so the little bird sang
And the snail he hummed Until the bird got hungry The snail's day was done Escargot yum yum yum |
do you ever feel proggy
at this time of night and you know it's not right but you just can't fight? wanna strike up the pipe and light up the sky and fiddle a figure to make Frank cry? |
My chicken's gone broody
Which means she's quite moody Sitting on unhatchable eggs. We don't have a rooster But nothing will boost her From the brown ovals beneath her legs. She sits in the coop Takes quick breaks to poop And get a quick bite to eat. At each morning's daylight And sometimes at night We grab eggs from under her seat. |
I don't quite understand
This world. It's so complicated. So improbable. And we're so basic. You wouldn't believe it if it was made up. Too many holes in the plot for the monsters to crawl through. There's light, here and there. We try to grow towards it. But mostly we're blind. Looking for warmth, looking to be clean. And there at the end are the ovens, the showers. |
Wow. Dark.
Brilliant, but dark. |
The old bastard fell
To the bottom of the well His soul he had to sell Just to get a short spell Of rest Tadaaaa! |
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Youse guys could be rich.
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Swirling,
Twirling, Furling, Tails a-whirling. Squirreling. Two squirrels were chasing each other around my tree. |
You have certainly captured the essence of what it is to be a Squirrel.
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nuts!!!!!!!!
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Does it produce endorphins
To make a post orphan? Does it make one inflate To relegate A former post To just a ghost? Do you seem a sage When deferring a post to a back page? Is it an orphan endorfin? Or is it a snark shark? :D |
heheheheh that was awesome
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It was.
:jig: |
:) I like what you did there. Too funny.
Thanks guys! |
Spinning out time
As if there is enough of it to go round. Wasting grey matter As if it could grow back. Waiting for the final thud Of the heart That has been sorely tried. |
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Cancerous untruths
Poison droplet in the well Lie metastasis |
All These Bitter Years
All these bitter years
have been a respite from the simple minded times of my youth knowledge is power so they say so then I stand a bitter god amongst men |
Brilliant.
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Another Stupid Poem (first draft)
I’m here, I never knew how long
The road would be, how sweet And sour, how terrible the times Would end, how sere the heat The times are hard, the times are sweet, The times are rotting meat There is no way to tell When focus shifts to soft delete So much of life Should stay inside A private file, complete So many things too painful to Allow to breathe, too fleet To render judgment would be Pain that cannot bear its heat The road goes on, I follow Face averted, no relief. The subway stinks its endless muck The station smells like sweat The passing of humanity Does not provide us yet The wisdom we remain to seek The endless pain a threat The road goes on, we follow Faces downcast, still bereft. |
God, Ortho, that's brilliant.
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It should be entitled 'With apologies to Leonard Cohen'.
Seems I only write when I've had a few glasses of wine. The rest of the time, I'm too depressed. |
I'll Drop In Sometime
You won't see me. I hang on my barbed wire web As you lie in bed, again. But I'll fall like a bloated spider And bite your poisoned tongue Until it turns to ashes in your mouth. You won't pour your voice like olive oil into another ear, Dislodging things people don't know they're giving you, Feeding on them until you become their habit. |
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Very good. |
Nature fashioned this dome.
This great hall of of bone. To keep something silly and soft Mighty and aloft So safe. But if inside there's disease. Mental maggots and fleas, Then all nature's devising Just needs excising Such waste. (and such terrible poetry proves my point!) |
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