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SleepyWitch
11-30-2007, 06:57 PM
write a really weird, wired, wacky, absurd, abstract, abstruse, pointless, pointy-eared.. poem. sensuality and reference to your late Uncle Edward are forbidden :)
oops, this was supposed to go in the poetry games section, but I clicked the wrong link. could you move it, mods? thanks


here's mine





!!!Attentione, attentione!!!
madames et monsieurs,
prepare for a breath-taking piece
of intertextualism
and have all your expectations upset,
it takes a lot of breath, for sure
it’s not what you think.
Between the sheets
.
.
.
of a scarlet silk notebook,
made in China,
pink sunflowers facing orange pine-trees
or pine orange-trees? from Japan
there’s folded up a page,
A4, white with black letters,
common enough.
A poem.

A contract.
You handed it out and I must have
signed it. Or at least I underlined,
sheepish signatory, the important parts,
and jotted notes in the margin,
one out of thirty
not random
meaning : contradictions
stress is unlikely?
stress it’s unlikely
I stress that contradiction is likely
structure is taken up again and again
realized by clause
to live

Basically it said “Never”
about the poet and the girl
and love and all that,
or maybe “Yes, but only if."
And you know it’s unlikely.
Only, the poet put it much better,
otherwise he’d hardly be a painter,
when Africa’s children battle the bulge,
and the weeping willow dances at the skylark’s wedding,
and angels grow chest hair in blue-wine crates
and researchers know.

It travelled around the world
and peeked at the heart of England
from the lining of a frayed old coat,
silk, from China, like the notebook,
taken up again
not random
where it hid with coins and a teabag
for a year.
Ready to pounce.
The tea was still good afterwards.

But if you’re so sure it’s “Never”,
Why not write one yourself?
I’ll cry your tears for you
if you mind my own business
and you’ll renounce me
to keep me near.

PrinceMyshkin
12-01-2007, 02:51 PM
"Did you know," I hear from a woman friend
of mine, " women typically sniff their husband's/bf's clothes
but men don't normally sniff their wives'?"

Which only goes to prove
that having a really good female confidante
is almost as good as sleeping with one.

But please don't ask me the measure
or weight of "almost"...

Pendragon
12-02-2007, 11:55 AM
Believe it or not, this rather pointless blow-off of steam was published in LA in a magazine called Up Dare? for disabled people.

Another Day

The sun comes up.
The light through my window awakens me.
It’s another day.
Another day of fighting to stay sane.
Another day of struggle to keep this daemon under some control.
(For what daemon can torment like a diseased mind?)
Another day of turmoil, trying to keep mind and body together.
It’s almost a relief when night falls.
Then it’s time for sleep—
Sleep, the brother of Death—
where at last my troubled mind and body can rest.
Then the sun comes up—
It’s another day...

DL Harris
© 11/24/97

SleepyWitch
12-02-2007, 12:21 PM
heehee, Uncle Pen,
well... I'm sure this poem was something the readers of that mag could relate to , but it's probably not your most original piece :blush:
I wouldn't call it weird or abstract etc though :)

PrinceMyshkin
12-02-2007, 01:02 PM
Believe it or not, this rather pointless blow-off of steam was published in LA in a magazine called Up Dare? for disabled people.

Another Day

The sun comes up.
The light through my window awakens me.
It’s another day.
Another day of fighting to stay sane.
Another day of struggle to keep this daemon under some control.
(For what daemon can torment like a diseased mind?)
Another day of turmoil, trying to keep mind and body together.
It’s almost a relief when night falls.
Then it’s time for sleep—
Sleep, the brother of Death—
where at last my troubled mind and body can rest.
Then the sun comes up—
It’s another day...

DL Harris
© 11/24/97

I don't know about the rest of you but it's obvious to me that your pen ain't draggin'.

crazefest456
12-02-2007, 03:23 PM
I wrote this for my english class, a few months ago: (I have some arabic references, I'll translate in the bottom)

Decaffeinated Coffee

she lies.


Tomorrow I will tread along
the cracks that form the horizon
of yesterday. My every step sparks
in ballistics gel—Ah! It's sign
SQUARED ex, not negative co—
La, Na'am, Laysa...Bala!*
WHAT...now is, time
which shouldn't be. We dwell,
and I
am the fiber of the leaf on the dried-out
neem tree of what was, un—
Real-ity is the clapper under the cobwebs
tightly wound inside the body
of the bell that when she strikes, roars!
inside the parchment soul that's freed.
She is the box that holds the cat who's
dead or alive or dead and alive—well,
you see that there is authentic thai furniture
inside the 15 bdrm, 5.75 bath with, of course,
a brand new jacuzzi! Let's go inside—
her heart, her mind, her yellow facade that
melts on her forehead, not in her spine.


and she lives.


* La= no
Na'am= yes
Laysa= there does not; not existing; not to be
Bala= yes (a reply to a question like "Did you not go to school?")

Yeah, my whole class was cracking up when my teacher was reading it (no one knew who wrote it)...People guessed it was me after a while...

SleepyWitch
12-03-2007, 06:23 AM
I wrote this for my english class, a few months ago: (I have some arabic references, I'll translate in the bottom)

Decaffeinated Coffee

she lies.


Tomorrow I will tread along
the cracks that form the horizon
of yesterday. My every step sparks
in ballistics gel—Ah! It's sign
SQUARED ex, not negative co—
La, Na'am, Laysa...Bala!*
WHAT...now is, time
which shouldn't be. We dwell,
and I
am the fiber of the leaf on the dried-out
neem tree of what was, un—
Real-ity is the clapper under the cobwebs
tightly wound inside the body
of the bell that when she strikes, roars!
inside the parchment soul that's freed.
She is the box that holds the cat who's
dead or alive or dead and alive—well,
you see that there is authentic thai furniture
inside the 15 bdrm, 5.75 bath with, of course,
a brand new jacuzzi! Let's go inside—
her heart, her mind, her yellow facade that
melts on her forehead, not in her spine.


and she lives.


* La= no
Na'am= yes
Laysa= there does not; not existing; not to be
Bala= yes (a reply to a question like "Did you not go to school?")

Yeah, my whole class was cracking up when my teacher was reading it (no one knew who wrote it)...People guessed it was me after a while...


wow, craze, that's really weird! I like it :)

Pendragon
12-21-2007, 01:43 PM
This is just a weird one about ghostly places, I've been chatting with someone about ghosts and stuff. Marie Laveau is a favorite song by Bobby Bare as well. The wail from the song goes into the poem. BTW she doesn't haunt this particular cometary, she's in St. Louis Number 1, but it felt good to throw her into the whole mess. Have Fun I chose Cyprus Grove as the cemetery, because it's on every list of haunted New Orleans Cemeteries. Never near the top, it is still significant, and always in the top ten.

The Significance of Five Years

Full moon rises over the bayou,
Mist hangs in the Spanish moss in the trees.
Saw someone moving in the Cemetery at Cyprus Grove
The hour is Midnight garden of good and evil.
She wails away somewhere in the swamps
Voodoo Queen, dead undying Marie Laveau …
Gonna be some trouble come morning…

My cloak always hides me in the darkness of the night,
Seems some old boy acquired a hand of glory.
I could tell him that in theses graves Tis best to leave the dead alone.
But he has the spells and the wax and now the hand.
He moves away towards his target, a mansion near the entrance to the Grove,
Laveau screams in the dark somewhere behind him…

Now he’s made his move inside the house and the Hand of Glory flames.
As long as those fingers glow blue none in the house but he can move!
What does he want from them? Their daughter. How pleasant! Lovers.
They are outside now. He draws a water pistol filled with milk and removes the flames.
In a second or two he has recovered the limp hand of the hanged man,
Now something follows as he carries his girl away in the fog

Said I not these graves in Cyprus Grove are best left undisturbed?
It is Laveau again, but this time chanting, as if dancing in a spell.
The Young Man lays his burden down to rest for a moment,
And taking the hand out seeks to throw it as far a he can.
The wind sighs down through the Cyprus tress stirring the beards of moss.

A hand takes the young man by the throat.
Eyes like flames inside of cannon barrels fixate themselves on his face.
“I’ have back my hand, me. You take from Rene, eh? Rene take from you.
“My han’ have five fingers, yes? You use no p’misson. I tink I take 5 years of your life.”
The Horrible eyes turned and spotted me among the stones,
“You tink Renee be fair, Reaper?” I silently raised my scythe in a sign of justice.

Now you know why the haunted graveyards of New Orleans are so popular.
The have a lookout to see things go on, but go on fair.
The couple were married and are doing quite well.
He worries about the little tattoo mark on his chest now and then
And he still hear Marie Laveau cry in the misty nights.
He shouldn’t worry that much. That mark just sped up his date with me.
By exactly 5 years…

Pendragon
© 12/21/07

NickAdams
01-23-2008, 12:49 PM
I hope this fits the theme of the thread:

Nicotine drones
bumble through a tracheatric tunnel;
fertilizing oxy-domes.

Tick-a Tick-a
Tick-a Tick-a

Hydrothermal ash, caldera mote,
volcanic winter; unvise the hemorrhage,
With a geyser-throat

Tick-a Tick-a
Tick-a Tick-a

SleepyWitch
01-24-2008, 08:00 AM
I hope this fits the theme of the thread:

Nicotine drones
bumble through a tracheatric tunnel;
fertilizing oxy-domes.

Tick-a Tick-a
Tick-a Tick-a

Hydrothermal ash, caldera mote,
volcanic winter; unvise the hemorrhage,
With a geyser-throat

Tick-a Tick-a
Tick-a Tick-a

yep, I guess it's kinda weird, Nick :p *understatement*

blp
01-24-2008, 08:24 AM
A lot of my recent contributions to the bad poem thread would probably fit here. Was thinking of starting a thread called 'Let your unconscious run rampant' or 'Write automatically' or 'Don't think, just babble', but I guess this will do the job.

Padge bud beep boulder baddoo
You are so scrappy mr hortensia that
no matter where you lay your hat
It will be melted when you get back
do you not dream of some more avuncular
spiritual adornment? where in the lands
of butter, margarine or coca-cola
can one find a gentle spot of shady repose?
merely, says the gottama, cross-eyed,
at the end of your smelly, but illusory nose.

blp
01-24-2008, 08:28 AM
I wrote this for my english class, a few months ago: (I have some arabic references, I'll translate in the bottom)

Decaffeinated Coffee

she lies.


Tomorrow I will tread along
the cracks that form the horizon
of yesterday. My every step sparks
in ballistics gel—Ah! It's sign
SQUARED ex, not negative co—
La, Na'am, Laysa...Bala!*
WHAT...now is, time
which shouldn't be. We dwell,
and I
am the fiber of the leaf on the dried-out
neem tree of what was, un—
Real-ity is the clapper under the cobwebs
tightly wound inside the body
of the bell that when she strikes, roars!
inside the parchment soul that's freed.
She is the box that holds the cat who's
dead or alive or dead and alive—well,
you see that there is authentic thai furniture
inside the 15 bdrm, 5.75 bath with, of course,
a brand new jacuzzi! Let's go inside—
her heart, her mind, her yellow facade that
melts on her forehead, not in her spine.


and she lives.


* La= no
Na'am= yes
Laysa= there does not; not existing; not to be
Bala= yes (a reply to a question like "Did you not go to school?")

Yeah, my whole class was cracking up when my teacher was reading it (no one knew who wrote it)...People guessed it was me after a while...

This is so good.

And so is yours, sleepy, but I won't quote it all again.

blp
01-24-2008, 08:32 AM
My late Uncle Edward
was sick
he ran febrile fingers over furry fabric
for kicks.

blp
01-24-2008, 02:22 PM
Your spies have been tailing me
across innumerable city squares
finding shadows in open land
to hide themselves
and their black objectives

your face itself keeps changing
likewise your voice, sex, body, taste
and wardrobe
which runs by itself on a changing selection
of trouser legs and stockings
in a bleak terrain that savages your shoes

We are already in Hell, which is why we can do so little
for one another, why
when we might be luxuriating in the soft gazes of
a thousand newborn horses
we find ourselves instead
lost, wandering separately
in the maze of hallways
in whatever government building
we use to observe one another's time
wasting

SleepyWitch
01-24-2008, 02:25 PM
We are already in Hell, which is why we can do so little
for one another, why
when we might be luxuriating in the soft gazes of
a thousand newborn horses

hey this is really weird. I like these lines best :) I've got a thing for horses (not real ones, but those that got misused by philosophers to illustrate some point that has nothing to do with horses at all :D)

blp
01-25-2008, 09:00 AM
hey this is really weird.

Yeah that was the idea!



I like these lines best :) I've got a thing for horses (not real ones, but those that got misused by philosophers to illustrate some point that has nothing to do with horses at all :D)

I don't know about these horses of which you speak, but, yes, I agree, I like those lines best.

Weirdly, as I was writing this, someone just walked by my desk with a dog on a leash. Not really that relevant, but somehow, it was quite weird.

Pendragon
01-27-2008, 01:50 PM
The Bible-thumper was adamant
in trying to convince me
that Satan actually existed.
I turned to a man
who had walked up almost unoticed.
"Can you believe this guy?
He's ready for the funny farm, he is?"
"What's the problem with him?" He asked.
"He thinks the devil and hell are real."
The guy's eyes became pits of fire.
"Oh, that. I do. It does. Anything else?"

Pendragon

blp
01-28-2008, 08:50 AM
We have tried for so long with this
separation of our corticle axes
but achieved
only a plate of brains on a plate,
turning grey in the diffuse light
of Cordoba's main square.

Let us try your ritual again
not in some arcadian meadow outside Strasbourg
where we already know death is too
but here
where it is most needed, Herr Man,
on my desk in this office
where the grey carpet tiles, clean as they are,
may yet benefit from purification
by the slaughter and bleeding of a goat.

white camellia
01-29-2008, 11:03 AM
This is dark, but I like it.

white camellia
01-29-2008, 11:09 AM
Yet as I read it again, I strangely feel lighter. Maybe that's the power of ambiguity where you can come up with your own interpretation that helps in particular, as the mind creates what it seeks.

white camellia
01-29-2008, 11:12 AM
Yet as I read it again, I strangely feel lighter. Maybe that's the power of ambiguity where you can come up with your own interpretation that helps in particular, as the mind creates what it seeks.

white camellia
01-29-2008, 11:16 AM
Sorry, duplicate, but the connection barrier caused that.

Haven
01-29-2008, 12:48 PM
Wonderful feelings I have being with you
Everywhere we go is so totally new
I know that this is just a generated view
Realised by pixels and computer graphics
Doesn't make it less real than molecules and matter

blp
01-29-2008, 02:34 PM
Yet as I read it again, I strangely feel lighter. Maybe that's the power of ambiguity where you can come up with your own interpretation that helps in particular, as the mind creates what it seeks.

I know it's my own, but I find it makes me laugh.

SleepyWitch
02-04-2008, 08:50 AM
Let us try your ritual again
not in some arcadian meadow outside Strasbourg
where we already know death is too
but here
where it is most needed, Herr Man,
on my desk in this office
where the grey carpet tiles, clean as they are,
may yet benefit from purification
by the slaughter and bleeding of a goat.

I love this stanza :)

mir
02-04-2008, 09:03 AM
Pen and blp's poems are far too easy to connect ;)

Another Monday
The manager clocks us late
Waiting at the door;
After lunch we will send him -
And his watch - to lazy gods

SleepyWitch
02-04-2008, 09:32 AM
Spring is early as it never was,
we must decide perceptually,
Lucanus cervus, your antlers are stuck
in the bark. Don't you see your nimble legs
aren't dancing at all, you're flailing,
it's 2: 0 for the tree.
Lovingly and with awareness,
stag beetle, where's your wife now?
Why don't you go home?
All hope reduced to showering bums,
because it's fun and you're so frisky,
so ggnaaaaaaaaaahh,
unworthy,
too good.......
don't touch, don't, don't tell me I'm beautiful,
I'll pay this time and next time you won't, either,
so we're square,
selective reading of drying hair,
all those years you peeked at her collarbones,
come on, hurry up
Tongue attached to palate,
channel of divine blessing,
no this slope isn't going down,
it's a slip of the eye,
like when you drive on the
highway at 1. a.m., red lights ahead,

on

off

on

off


airstrip, aliens, goddamit!
All stations, this is the brain:
prepare for cardiac arrest!

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

It's only a windfarm after all,
speak after me in the silence.
Return.
Now.

SleepyWitch
02-04-2008, 11:33 AM
here's another very weird and pointless one:





What use is der Mensch,
so elegant and pure,
applicable to all,
except himself,
you're not the first to get married,
and not the last to die,
the bigger the horse,
the longer its legs.
Only yesterday you were eagerly confessing
until death do us part,
you hereby named this ship
a new beginning,
new fragrance, redolent, happy,
custom made sails as clean and white as these
must surely reach the shore,
no captains need apply.
But quite by accident the twittering lark
had strangled the nightingale in its nest
under a blue sky when days were bright
and birds went unwatched
for lack of unlucky omens.
and all things considered
IN CAPITAL LETTERS,
night is just retrospect inverted,
head talking to itself.

blp
02-04-2008, 03:24 PM
Pen and blp's poems are far too easy to connect ;)


It's a red herring!

blp
03-10-2008, 07:37 PM
I'm walking on a hillside
with the light behind it.

Rabbits that live on this hill
stay hidden in their holes.

Another thinks on the hill
and stays apart from it.

I also think on the hill,
but I don't think of it.

Why didn't I think of it?
It is so obvious.

blp
03-10-2008, 07:49 PM
Nothing is convincing,
not even the implausible way you move through life
like a kitten being born in an exploding spaghetti factory.

This idea of yours
is like some kind of irritating disease you've come down with,
or a nervous disorder, a mental form of diaper rash as it were.

Worse is the obscenity,
of your enthusiasm for patterns left behind on used dinner plates,
which any dignified person would be embarrassed to admit to.

lucidnightmares
03-10-2008, 10:22 PM
piano keys in my head
wonderfully saddening
painfully artistic
arthritic movements of the soul
aging and deteriorating with every moment
the moments are practiced, alone in the dark
to find perfection we isolate our selfs
the world is a distraction it seems
perhaps we better rid ourself of such a thing, if we are to be perfect
"it`s not me it`s the world with the problem"
piano keys inside my mind
are wearing out with the passage of time
the electricity of the modern world, is killing classical
note by note the guillotine creeps
slowly downward until the final verse
one last sorrow filled note to end existence

Il Penseroso
03-13-2008, 02:20 AM
these are a whole lot of fun to read


The past is like a drying refrigerator magnet,
not the soiled one, but the one fondly growing
as the birds begin robustly against the window.

Items are the wavering of encroachment
fashioned through a mold, the key
is flicked aside by more mighty imaginings
than those yellow slippers resting like arms
of a fur covered chair, not sleeping
but in cold anticipation, shuddering without
weeping as the kitchen plasters itself to the floor.



and to write :)

Oniw17
03-13-2008, 04:03 AM
As he would sit and contemplate
About the vices that were stopping fate
He failed to see the monster's face
Stuck, spiraling throughout his conscious state
The very same which daunts escape

The walls swirled as the whole world turned inward
The numbness would circumvent learned sin words
In spite, this light resembled burned vinyards
A waste the taste of which was heard in verse
Like Sandoz ripped your hands off. Earn; get yours!

As the boat rolled on and night of cold turned dawn
The host made toasts of moonshine with twin deuce signs
Yes, the note holds charms; fact's that the joke rose arms
The egg yolks that AIDs broke left children supine
Actions caused no harm, but made the cards alarmed

As they became perturbed by 4 As and a jester
The fleeting rain disturbed and made bleating pain deserved
The heating feigned perverse thoughts of reading, brains, and work
Conquer the order, brought by the former, chained and hurt
Life is like a box of chocholates, then you're shamed in dirt

blp
03-13-2008, 08:15 AM
It's become lighter in the garden.
I'm sorry, what did you say?

I said it's lighter now outside
Maybe I'll go out and work on the sculpture of the Vantage Point.

He stepped out, taking her pink sunglasses.
And seemed to be followed by a trail of lizardly ineffable irritations.

Real insects approached the honey jar militarily.
She wrote a note, appended with an obscene sketch.

If you get a rude message in the mail,
Please put it in your darkest place. Consider it to be from me.

V.Jayalakshmi
03-13-2008, 01:29 PM
Dear Members,
Nick Adams win hands down here according to me.Any imgery that is zig zag will fit in perhaps.Runaway thoughts are weird perhaps.Here is one from me not to be counted out.
A crazy game this.
------------------
Out goes the finger and the replay shows him a little doubtful,

What game is this?Is this Cricket?

That creature that tweeks at nights'creek,creek',

How does the name came to be a sport?

Cricketing fraternity will ask the cricket,

That tweeks at night and you might know,

Round and round I talk about the Cricket but it is a game you know!

Out ,the forum will tell me now and I will doubt the replay.

Weird,I tell you this cricket,the creature and the game too.

blp
03-14-2008, 08:00 AM
You're so right to give belated kudos to Nick Adams, VJ. I meant to mention it myself, in fact, thought I had.

blp
03-18-2008, 06:52 AM
Stupor colours lids
sludge coloured

Mad dog behind door
of eyes

Affect me not
Forget-me-not

In this chair in
this room is old with it

Touch off
Touch out

kelby_lake
04-13-2008, 02:12 PM
Ode to a table

Oh table! Oh table!
Your four legs sublime
I have but two
How I wish you were mine!

Oh table! Oh table!
I am but a chair
Oh superior furniture
How can I compare?!

Oh table! Oh table!
Covered with cloth
I can but admire
And oh, how far off!

Oh table! Oh table!
Your four legs sublime
I have but two
How I wish you were mine!

autolycus
04-14-2008, 06:01 AM
Here (http://tworavens.blogspot.com/2005/01/two-ravens-021.html) is one of mine. Is it weird? What's weird?



hear the dogs barking
in the undergrowth

fenris

watch the dogs playing
with their sense of self

fenris

watch the shadows cast
doglike in the cave

fenris

and all at once, see

fenris



Enjoy.

blp
04-14-2008, 09:49 AM
Cosmonaut
Man

Mond is Welt

Head upon a page

Pincer cup caught
cough and collapse

Fingers fill out coverlet

Half knot
Half thought

Dream picture
brought

Thumbprint
whistles in doorway

blp
04-14-2008, 09:53 AM
Along that line of
the valley, trees, the cats
muddy against the green and bloody
fangs, folded hands, businesslike about killing
curl into the cabin in a line like a trail of wriggling stones
fleas scattering along their backs.

Sarasvati21
04-14-2008, 05:38 PM
Disappear into the ink-well
The think-well
The drink-well
The…the…
The…

Ah yes, the ink-well

Dip your self into it
Into the dark-ness
The stark-ness
The arch-ness
Of this great and present
Dark-ness

Indulge your captors
Dive into the deep-pit
The steep-pit
The sleep-pit
Bathe within the ink-well

You will never go else-where
Pulse-where
False-where
Let this night become you
The dark-ness
Ink-well
Deep-pit
Bathe in the beauty
Of this steep and endless night

mantis2006
04-14-2008, 05:57 PM
Disappear into the ink-well
The think-well
The drink-well
The…the…
The…

Ah yes, the ink-well

Dip your self into it
Into the dark-ness
The stark-ness
The arch-ness
Of this great and present
Dark-ness

Indulge your captors
Dive into the deep-pit
The steep-pit
The sleep-pit
Bathe within the ink-well

You will never go else-where
Pulse-where
False-where
Let this night become you
The dark-ness
Ink-well
Deep-pit
Bathe in the beauty
Of this steep and endless night

Im literally smiling right now. that was uplifting. for i don't know why. its rhythm i think. Makes me wanna jive.

Sarasvati21
04-14-2008, 08:23 PM
Well, now I'm smiling, Mantis. thanks!

blp
04-15-2008, 09:47 AM
Oaf tofe cop glob betterment defense engine
satisfy hopgood
it is defy
or wettermet
fence guest
groomed for globulous an d so
in this house
wherefore 'tis desireth sothigoth
metiate mine manse sirrah
salve me
und Unterglaubengerrichtenspiese
Caress me
For I am bum.

Pensive
04-15-2008, 10:02 AM
Paranoia

Am I left with a lot of fortune
By some rich aunt I have never known?
Has he been dared to get me to say I love him
By his evil friends?
Did my sister ever dump him
Or did my brother ever had
Anything to do with his sister?
Did I ever hurt him so
That he wants to take tevenge?

His eyes that follow me
Everywhere I go
Why this they do?
Why does he say he loves me?
Why does he never leave me
When I tell him to?

How I hate him so
When he is right there beside me
Trying to listen to my thoughts?
Through this curtain which no one
Has ever dared to cross
Yet he has
And
For a reason
Behind me!
There he is!

Now isn't that weird despite the fact when I started writing it I didn't mean to write a strange poem such as this one? :p

GoofyFlamingo
05-06-2008, 11:43 AM
in the heat

the blood drips down
and forms a shadow
of what once was
as the geizer blows
and creates a rain
that drips down
and creates a puddle
of what will be
and the river of snow
flows through the puddle
freezing the mix
into ice
and the sun beats down
creating a shadow
that burns through the ice
and boils the liquid
to nothing

- - -

weird enough for this thread?

Chesterfield
05-06-2008, 03:21 PM
telephones, smell it,
chocolate covered waffle cones,
musing muffled microphones,
muffle the sounds

strong bonds create,
after summers and winters pass,
ripe dates, capitulate,
warm midnight snacks

reading a book, look,
catching rays of dark,
not light,
on a hammock is where the pigeons fight,
right, left, is where the book is spread,
up, down, is where the book is fed,
everywhere, is where the books are read
look out, save the book, it's dead

are these books?
do they paint them red?
do read books,
it's not a fact,
stories never seen by children,
anymore,
it's in my head

jikan myshkin
05-16-2008, 06:47 AM
In neptune’s kingdom under the sea
Napoleon and Arab discus long division
Of the multiples of ten
Where the whales swim in brine
Up above the ocean floor
As the slit eyed angels converse
About children and their purse
And the evil of longing for a cure
While temptation awaits the evil soul
Who died for goodness at his door
Tombs of marble encase the mind
Where the nazis sing in rhyme
As Cinderella sweeps the floor
To the beat of Casanova’s drum
From the shadows of the mind
Where the black riders steal time
And in the blood information
Flows down the drain
And the tempest roars the unholy name
As socialism weeps in the mansions of gold
I see you with a dollar and a cross
Burning bridges from distant shores
Where the rich are as vacant as a stoner’s eyes
When hope has all but died
Hear the voices of lost seamen
Drowning in prison of membrane
Where the beauty queen mocks the feeble attempt
Of the pre pubescent pensioner
With a pocket full of rice
Magic beans and farmers
Grow in this barren land
Where the wells have sprung a weak
And wet the child’s mind
And monkeys imported dance for fun
To the napalm rhythm of the sum
Of all the parts that make up the world
After is was destroyed to bring purity to us all
So join in the laughter of the fishermen
Still hoping for mermaids and chocolate friends
But in the still of the night
Moan in remorse
For the darkest hours
Are still yet to come

blp
05-22-2008, 09:33 AM
telephones, smell it,
chocolate covered waffle cones,
musing muffled microphones,
muffle the sounds

strong bonds create,
after summers and winters pass,
ripe dates, capitulate,
warm midnight snacks

reading a book, look,
catching rays of dark,
not light,
on a hammock is where the pigeons fight,
right, left, is where the book is spread,
up, down, is where the book is fed,
everywhere, is where the books are read
look out, save the book, it's dead

are these books?
do they paint them red?
do read books,
it's not a fact,
stories never seen by children,
anymore,
it's in my head


Particularly fine. I'd suggest one change: full stop (period) after 'book', then line break and a line to itself for 'It's dead'.

blp
05-22-2008, 09:38 AM
Walled by your onion you will
be the prism of lusty fascinations
for stew, chowder, bolognese
primped with a powder
of noteworthy critical opinion
and nailed to a board
face down
dumped into a barrel of crabs
and taken to Moscow for a party.
So
therefore
given that your thesis is
still under consideration
by the elders of Freiburg
and you have been living among ice lollies
without reading a single word of what is printed on
the sticks
It behooves us to calmly ask
that you prepare the wood shavings without complaint
and hitchkike the rest of the way
to your own armpit.

mukta581
05-23-2008, 08:02 AM
I always though...
i always said..
i know where to find love..
I always though..
I always said..
I'll ready strong enough...

but some times
I though
I felt like i could give up
but you came and changed my whole world
I never felt like this before...

This feeling inside me
Is something i never experienced before
I don't want to let go of this feeling
It feels like it always been apart of me..

In my heart
In my head
It's so clear know
I'm some were i never been before
know i see what love actually really means...

blp
06-05-2008, 11:40 AM
It's in the smoke
the head
it cups your hale
and keeps it
Sinly in the cinders

Il Penseroso
06-16-2008, 12:49 AM
From the start of cause
effect wriggles thought through haze
meandering a maze, a dumb concussion
unfelt and mismade.

blp
06-23-2008, 07:24 PM
Sticked off with a twisted custard balloon
Mordechai devoured his silicon chip
in a fit of coronary vacillation
and
putting his left foot in and his right foot out
stamped on a baby ladybird
chewed out an oleaginous bus conductor
and defected to Luxor
there to stare sphinx-like
over the sands.

formality hater
07-30-2008, 08:29 AM
Well beyond the shadows,
Roams your spirit
It is lurking around,
Looks desperate enough,
For something unknown
But you are still stunned,
And you still believe,
That never in this world,
You had left your GRAVE!

paperleaves
10-03-2008, 10:30 PM
Little fur coats, mink collars
and lime green Jell-O
slimy mudwashed earthworms scream
to holes in the ceiling

blp
10-03-2008, 11:05 PM
Soap, with its distinctive sap
is suppurating on the
drip drip of
the tap
Pit pat
parenthetical to pop
parent party
please to lap
lip up, patty
pore perhaps.

Dark Muse
10-03-2008, 11:35 PM
Yes she died
she died
yes she died

Who am I that she died
who am I

When she died
who am I
yes she died

SleepyWitch
10-09-2008, 08:02 PM
Dark, I hope this poem doesn't have to do with your friend trying to commit suicide?

here's another weird one I just wrote. doesn't make too much sense, but I suppose that's what weird poems are all about?






he’s got himself a new set of eyes
maybe somewhat tentatively green
perhaps even for looking at people – straight -
except their upper halves still cling to
scarred reptile glass, broken sideways for defence
and a friend says he’s definitely not cute
but what’s the point and I hope it’s not,
I mean, I didn’t want to
I always wondered who…. and now I want
something different, rainbow-coloured,
like bubbly, pink blue and green, bauble-shiny
video-arcade butterflies
or
a dose of machine-gun bullets in my guts
to make me feel as long
can’t bleed
can’t love
as long as it don’t hurt
to make me feel
to make me miss
and life’s too long considering it’s so short,
“Who said you have to complicate it?”,
his smile’s gone with the statue-eyes
and I’m left to dream of barchan dunes
and trees of Milton Keynes – too many, 20 million –
and life’s too slim considering it’s so broad
when in the end
the fight was only with yourself

Dark Muse
10-09-2008, 08:05 PM
Thank you for your thoughts, and no the poem did not have to do with that. It was influenced by reading the works of Gertrude Stien.

Epistemophile
10-09-2008, 10:50 PM
down
down
down
down
i know
you are
going down
and down
you can't help
i have control
over you
since i wrote this
and not you
you have to go
down
down
down
down
wow
i feel
the power
of poetry
to let
us
down
down
down
down
own
wn
n
.

Dark Muse
10-11-2008, 01:20 AM
I want to curl up and die
but then I lie
I do not really wish to die
it is just the kind of thing
someone like me likes to say
though only in my head
where I put on my own plays
an audience of myself
let the rest of the world
think I am far more serious
you see, I seek not attention
for I wait
untill I am on the only one
looking
and then I suffer
alone
and in silence
but at my own comand.

SleepyWitch
10-11-2008, 12:23 PM
here's another weird one I've just dashed down. need's revising, though :(





you caught me
"You’re being unfaithful."
soft voice - subconscience
- right in the middle - sensors go off late
- already there-
I’m allowed to read secretly under my blanket,
you said,
but not in the corridor like this
and I almost invited you there

layered like the katana
wrapped, folded in upon yourself
five thousand times around the inner core
you make me want to coil up -
a Roman in the dust
morph embryonically
your stomach - feet
androgynous infant
but this life’s run out of sleep
and my sculptured arms won’t let me crawl
or were they yours?
and sinews, calves that forgot how to walk
without running spit me back out
thud
ud
thud
ud
thud
dud
thud
ud
ud
towards an exhausted battle

Epistemophile
10-11-2008, 12:49 PM
twinkle twinkle little star
in my heart another scar
once upon a time i remember
falling asleep in her daddy's car
i often wonder
how you are
what you are
are you near
are you far


are you there?

SleepyWitch
10-11-2008, 03:13 PM
he's made of milk and logic
and wiry gold, but not the blondish-yellow sort,
more like mineral salts, that's dyes for you,
and mostly greying
and blank unfeeling dragon-eyes
that slowly blink to say he is surprised
when he is not
but sometimes he can't find his room,
his feet go trip-trip-hop as he dances, skips,
stubborn, systematically, from one door to the next
and blushes when I tap his name on the door,
asking "Is that you?"



.......aaaargh, I guess that proves I've officially gone daft

Dark Muse
10-13-2008, 01:42 AM
Eyes half shut
wide awake
looking up to the sky
down below
on fallen wings
where shadows sing
just another game
moving round
the caracal
music rewinds
and plays again
it must be some sort of sign
something half-divine
while meaning nothing
but the sum
of the earth and the sky
beneath the shadows of the sun
where all souls go to die
but the end has just begun
where the beginning
is no more
another lasting breath
of smoke and mirrors
to play upon the walls
invisible dances
in these dusky halls
what do reflections matter
when they disappear
into gray marble
and the shimmering lake

Dark Muse
10-17-2008, 02:19 AM
drip
drop
tick-
tock-
rap-
a tap
it never stops
hear the pin
ping
churing
china rain
down the
porcelain drain

SecretUmbreon
10-17-2008, 09:05 AM
do you thnk this is weird?

down the road
across the street
in an old abode
feel the beat
an old stereo
a blast to the past
but it's been unoccupied
since years' past

SleepyWitch
10-18-2008, 02:41 AM
yep, that's mildly weird, Secret, but you'll have to practice some more to come up with a really, really, really weird poem :)

Dark, I like yours.

Dark Muse
10-18-2008, 03:14 AM
Thank you

SleepyWitch
10-21-2008, 04:42 PM
dark wall black veil of night, cold-space cosmic suction
tomcat-in-boots,
enlighten us
show us the way to daily exhalation!
these worn-out symbols won't do for lunch
NO! NO! NO!
poor us, we must have a three-course meal:
repress - regress - regret,
repent, you serpentine amalgamation!
he is my lizard and my love,
would that he never were.
the beginning is nigh!
queue up and wait to be born!
too young begoggled for too old,
too bold enthrottled by too still,
oh fie, oh cross, oh pelican,
I smell your barbarous blood!
swish swish your rapier have at you mouse!
Who, by all means, taught the boy this stupidity?
Thus spake the landlord crook-nosedly.
Oh sublime spirit of minute enwrapment,
brush thy worshipers with thy arctic wings!
Ship off the buttered film from our eyes and
dagger our bowels through freeze-dried.
crow-circle against orange clouds,
wuuaargh
uaaaargh
bluuaaaargh
arachnoid, HO!
Azure inflatable llama furs!
the latest craze from Malmidar!
Buy one get one free!
gooooody, gooooody, gooooody
'atta boy!
If all is said, the nail's been hit,
the oxen faced, the camels fed,
and all the lovely pigeons dead,
Why, then, my lord, so be it!

Dark Muse
11-08-2008, 12:28 AM
Streached
across the arid
land

silenced
before the clock
is stuck

with no name
no call to make

Dark Muse
11-13-2008, 02:34 AM
Flash; click; shutter
highlighted; eye-blink
dark and light
sounds go off
ring like bells
blinding illumination
broken glass
lime light
shot off
reel; real
span around
shove; jostle
whined
back-forward
senses deadened
rewind
stop
forward
unwound

wagravity
11-21-2008, 08:56 AM
touche to the mustache
stuck in potato skins
grown from the stomach of a waitress
she never really cared
she never really noticed

and undertow forms under toes
suck me in to melody
for deflecting bullets with machettes
is impossible
it's improbable

coffee glasses and champaign mugs
used at portholes, i see clearly
as the piano stares me down
it's so intimidating
not so complicating

rush an ambulance to the graveyard
i think someone is dead there
tip-toe through the roses
they shine so bright
when dusk becomes night

temptation of nicotine swells my ears
like the potato skins
grown from the stomach of the waitress
i never really noticed that
she never really cared

Dark Muse
11-23-2008, 01:29 PM
Hello?
.
.
.
.
can
.
.
.
.
anyone
.
.
.
.
hear
.
.
.
me
.
.
.
hello?

Dark Muse
12-13-2008, 01:39 PM
Sin-
ful

de-
light

savoring
sweet
temp-
tation

of life

Quaking
shaking
staring with
eyes wide
open

You are the
Queen of
the night

Schooled
by your
touch

Spurned
when I
diss-
apoint

Love me
ten-
der

or love me
nev-
ver

Slave & Mistress
joined

to-
gether

SleepyWitch
12-17-2008, 06:29 AM
I am the snow indifferent
on fields outside a train
coming from you
sunflower smile and frown,
I didn't know you were broken
until........
I must have fixed you

You are the snow indifferent
on scorched skin and that
place where light is slow
and the almost-pain that
makes us whole
lies coiled-up waiting.

white camellia
12-17-2008, 06:57 AM
Hello?
.
.
.
.
can
.
.
.
.
anyone
.
.
.
.
hear
.
.
.
me
.
.
.
hello?

Hi, Dark Muse, I like this one. I like the simple question.

Dark Muse
12-21-2008, 12:05 AM
Thank you


T W I S T I N G
in
the
W I N D

Free
F
a
l
l
i
n
g

Dark Muse
12-22-2008, 11:09 PM
Nobody knows
Nobody cares

We are not here
We are not there

The Dogs of Despair
the Lords of Nowhere

TheFifthElement
12-28-2008, 02:44 PM
Watching you

I can see what you’re doing
out there,
through the kitchen window.

How you bend low,
dip your hand into the shallow
pool and stare into it
as though reading your fortune,
or calculating a path to lead you
thought the stars, reflected
there in the gathering gloom.
See you drink it;

I turn back into the room,
disgusted with your
need to consume everything
you lay your dirty hands on.

And yesterday
I saw you in Tesco,
and followed you
down the petfood aisle;
saw you smile as
you lifted the Whiskas biscuits
over your chin, tipping them
into that big mouth.
Saw your fishy-black grin

mincing around the store,
never before have I laid my eyes
on a man so thoroughly
beyond redemption.

Then last night I closed
my eyes so I couldn’t hear
your gritty lies, or sink into
the blackness of your breath.
I felt you rising over me
consuming me
all but completely, your teeth-marks
deeply printed to my breast.

And the rest, I guess
you already know. I am watching you
out of the window, and wherever
you go I’ll be watching.

blp
12-28-2008, 02:50 PM
Very good, 5th. I was afraid it wasn't going to be weird enough at first, but it eased into it, which was good, better, in a way than going weird right away.

TheFifthElement
12-28-2008, 02:51 PM
Wow, that was quick! Thanks blp, I've been playing around with rhyme and that's where it took me. Tesco, of course ;)

blp
12-30-2008, 07:33 PM
This joke will cut you up, he said,
He seemed to see the knife flash
and his sides split
with violent shaking
eyes screwed nearly shut,
lips stretched back grotesquely.
This joke he seemed split with,
Violent, shaking, lips nearly back,
shut grotesquely, and his will
seemed cut, his knife stretched
and split back, said flash, shut
the knife, the joke, his split,
eyes split back, shaking, nearly cut.

blp
12-30-2008, 07:40 PM
Now, kid, with your pid buck toot
Get out, by your anguished knees and feet
Tell. It. Son. This
for a gap-toothed boatman rolling up
on the shores of newly fascist
fragrant, sceptered, windswept and
God.for.saken
Land of my fathers, mothers and various
unrelated descendants of Kane.
Hello! What's cooking, kids?
What does a fella have to do
to get a bit of action 'round these parts?
And who died and made you manager
of this
here
boondock?
Dronk King fleecing
arms of a young boy
open naively to the world.
Ball. Play with ball.

blp
12-30-2008, 08:25 PM
The bark is scarring, Cat pain, Mordechai, Beely
bodking parturates unusually flatulently, even for her
over her new nightgown and out pops
the playboy of the western world
reading yesterday's Times
and rolling the afterbirth around his mouth
like chewing gum.
I'm him, he says, winkingly, the drool dripping
with other effluvia
down his dress suit front.

Silas Thorne
12-30-2008, 08:31 PM
:lol: I laughed out loud when I read that last one,and then looked back and saw the ones before it.. great stuff blp!

Zee.
12-30-2008, 09:41 PM
haha really cool.
Reminded me of how Only Revolutions *check it out, is written

blp
12-30-2008, 09:56 PM
Thanks Silas. Great reaction.

What's Only Revolutions, limajean?

blp
12-30-2008, 10:18 PM
Turning then from these matters
to sand and the life therein
tiny and fervid,
she betook herself of her fork
and set about the plate
like a sculptress
paring away to the perfection
of her satiety.
'There is something', she said,
shielding her eyes against the sun,
'something ancient and mysterious
in the taste of this tuna.'
and vomited on the dry sand.
Earlier
the day before
I had opened the tin and left it in the sun
to age.

Zee.
12-30-2008, 11:13 PM
Thanks Silas. Great reaction.

What's Only Revolutions, limajean?

The story alternates between two different narratives: Sam and Hailey, and Hailey and Sam, wild and wayward teenagers who never grow old. With an evolving stable of cars, the teenagers move through various places and moments in time as they try to outrace History.
As the story proceeds, one can note that many events are perceptual and not certain. By reading both stories some sense can be made from this poetic styled puzzle. The words written are a vague mix of poetry and stream of consciousness prose. Both Hailey and Sam depict their feelings as well as ideas and thoughts towards one another. It is truly difficult to summarize the plot as most readers will understand the parts of story in different ways.
It can also be noted that the end very much leads into the beginning. It is possible, after finishing the book, to continue the story from the beginning.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Only_Revolutions

blp
12-31-2008, 11:57 AM
The story alternates between two different narratives: Sam and Hailey, and Hailey and Sam, wild and wayward teenagers who never grow old. With an evolving stable of cars, the teenagers move through various places and moments in time as they try to outrace History.
As the story proceeds, one can note that many events are perceptual and not certain. By reading both stories some sense can be made from this poetic styled puzzle. The words written are a vague mix of poetry and stream of consciousness prose. Both Hailey and Sam depict their feelings as well as ideas and thoughts towards one another. It is truly difficult to summarize the plot as most readers will understand the parts of story in different ways.
It can also be noted that the end very much leads into the beginning. It is possible, after finishing the book, to continue the story from the beginning.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Only_Revolutions

Thanks. I'll have a look for that.

Aha. Just checked the wikipedia link. I thought there was something House of Leavesish about your description. Funny how one just knows sometimes.

TheFifthElement
12-31-2008, 01:19 PM
Now, kid, with your pid buck toot
Get out, by your anguished knees and feet
Tell. It. Son. This
for a gap-toothed boatman rolling up
on the shores of newly fascist
fragrant, sceptered, windswept and
God.for.saken
Land of my fathers, mothers and various
unrelated descendants of Kane.
Hello! What's cooking, kids?
What does a fella have to do
to get a bit of action 'round these parts?
And who died and made you manager
of this
here
boondock?
Dronk King fleecing
arms of a young boy
open naively to the world.
Ball. Play with ball.

:lol: I love this.

blp
12-31-2008, 01:22 PM
Thanks, 5th!

blp
12-31-2008, 01:38 PM
For this big victim fat bloated groaning
Round his head crown floating mix of scripture, history, wish dream
Eating the flabby, dripping, ballsac fruit of the sands
Eglantine, dates, rosewater, sweetbreads from famished bellies,
Parched tongues, he lies down like Gulliver
Aargh, goddamnit, these little people seem to
Like to keep walking into my fist. I can't tell which ones. But Cædite
Eos. Novit enim Dominus qui
Sunt eius. Yesh, drunkenly, the old Dom Dad
To us gave it us anyway, we're staying, you go
If you can't accept reality, if you can't except finality
Never mind, you'll know it soon
Enough.

Dark Muse
12-31-2008, 09:03 PM
Drip
drip
drip


the water
falls

Riesa
01-08-2009, 01:16 AM
Oven set at 550

He had the worse sense of timing.
called drunk when I was nearing
the crisp edge of Fish Spencer
Me, without my eight for two days
thanks to full-moon cats, ill-timed dr. peppers
and the iron bed across the house
which shrieks at 3 A.M. with
childish dreaming.

I only want to tell you how I feel
You won’t dissuade me from my thoughts
with chummy visions of a brighter world;
I’m unwilling to be converted
to gods that you yourself will not believe in.
I’m ugly, torn and wrong about it all,
I believed the sun was hot,
I‘ve seen it through my window,
highlighting my dust.

Yes! I said, fully convinced he was on to something.
I couldn’t help reminding him that misery is a slice of life,
Better than feeling nothing.

I’ve been called a b..ch so rarely

Taliesin
01-08-2009, 03:09 AM
I think that the thread names made by june30 would make an excellent poem.

How do you think i model this Bikinis?
see my sexy body which i took in the bedroom,lol.do you believe i am only 14years old
the most sexy advertisement you never see
i am a very open mind girl,below is my sex experience and some of pics,let us share
my dick too long ,how can i put it in to the pants?

Silas Thorne
01-08-2009, 03:19 AM
Yes, that is very weird. I think people at the moment are trying very hard to EXTERMINATE! her though. (Sorry, I had a dalek moment, must have been the subliminal tapes I listened to in my sleep.)

I will not repeat the June's words, for I am afraid that the moderator decapitates me.

Greetings, fellow traveller. What time is it at your current location and do you have jellybeans? Going a little crazy where I am here.

Silas Thorne
01-08-2009, 03:20 AM
the '14yr old ' title was truly disturbing

jeanggk
01-08-2009, 05:44 AM
I was wondering if someone really into poetry and symbolism could offer their own interpretation of this poem. It's interesting to see what different people can get out of the same poem sometimes.

I was driving down the dimming highway
As the sun set to the left.
My destination was home,
Was on my way home as normal.
A flat expanse on either side
of the stretch of highway,
Faded, short-cut grass,
But I hardly paid attention.
Headed home.

Then the setting sun caught my eye,
A wide orange orb
That filled me with awe.
So great...
I felt the urge to follow,
And I took a left exit
Toward the high,
beautiful light.

I followed this new road,
Followed the Sun,
And as the sky grew dark,
It still hung in place.
A giant orange orb
In a black sky above a far-off city.
As I followed it in the night,
flashes of color splashed beneath it
Of red and purple.

The beauty still held me
And I still followed, amazed.
Home did not matter right now.
Only this beauty of another world.

Suddenly a change;
It transformed into a hieroglyph,
The white right eye of Horus,
And the blinked closed
And in a flash it was gone.

I stopped the car in the silence
Of this sudden, total night.
I was uneasy to continue.
But I knew what lay beyond
The darkness ahead:
A place from my past, familiar.

And then an old friend drove past
And we greeted for a moment,
And he went on ahead.
But I turned around and went home.:D
___________________________________
breitling
(http://www.watchesmerchant.com)

Silas Thorne
01-08-2009, 05:58 AM
Please put this somewhere else, unless you wrote it of course. I recommend the Poems, Poets, and Poetry thread if you want help to interpret a poem that someone else has written. This thread is for people to post weird poems of their own. :)

blp
01-08-2009, 10:35 AM
Oven set at 550

He had the worse sense of timing.
called drunk when I was nearing
the crisp edge of Fish Spencer
Me, without my eight for two days
thanks to full-moon cats, ill-timed dr. peppers
and the iron bed across the house
which shrieks at 3 A.M. with
childish dreaming.

I only want to tell you how I feel
You won’t dissuade me from my thoughts
with chummy visions of a brighter world;
I’m unwilling to be converted
to gods that you yourself will not believe in.
I’m ugly, torn and wrong about it all,
I believed the sun was hot,
I‘ve seen it through my window,
highlighting my dust.

Yes! I said, fully convinced he was on to something.
I couldn’t help reminding him that misery is a slice of life,
Better than feeling nothing.

I’ve been called a b..ch so rarely

Knock-poem, Ries.

EDIT

Weird typo. I meant to say 'Knock-out poem...' Weird.

blp
01-08-2009, 10:36 AM
Please put this somewhere else, unless you wrote it of course. I recommend the Poems, Poets, and Poetry thread if you want help to interpret a poem that someone else has written. This thread is for people to post weird poems of their own. :)

And generally not get much feedback. If you did write it and you want feedback, best to make a thread for it all to itself in the main bit of the personal poetry section.

SleepyWitch
01-08-2009, 12:52 PM
oh my, you guys have been really prolific while I lazed around. Will read all your weird poems later on.

firefangled
01-09-2009, 06:51 PM
Hawthorn — I take my brother back to his building.
It’s all beige stone and steel,
a small garden, maybe from saved seeds,
cucumber and watermelon,
the green vine outside the entry door,
planted, the way a thief hides a jewel,
but the sun finds it and sends a small light
into the room, like a distant star, as if to say,
grow so death can find you, or be lost before you begin.

firefangled
01-09-2009, 06:56 PM
I've been saving these a long time, thus their wrinkled appearance drycleaning could not remove. -ff


At the Summit Meeting

We had two
Alsatian Buckhorn bedimmed,
emphasized grumble-colloquia
and the marvelous results.

The boys must be blind,
to the perfection of the arrangements,
shamefaced Cinderella from Cinerama,
obvious and simple, disco parapsychology.

To me, to overlook such a labile,
some pipes and five pounds of smoking tobacco,
assure or suggest that the congress
dictate proper replacements.


Willing to Travel

I’ve heard a lot about you…
We have all forgotten
more than we remember.
Parthenogenesis, you think,
or secure data transmission?

Join Now! Lonely housewives
want to cheat, another doorway.
Tired of yourself?
What’s inside?
We have one day passes for $1.

blp
01-10-2009, 11:17 AM
I don't know how I even ate the first one
and this one's even bigger.
(At least the jam wasn't too difficult to open.)
But please, is it really expedient
to do it this way, and with all parts
still so clear and harmonically lucid––
as in some murderous battle
of hop-o-my-thumb,
strategically led
by five-finger technique--
I'm gagging on it, the pure retch
brought on
by the perfect spherical object
so beloved of the romantics.
Those bastards.
What did they know about
swallowing one's own compositions?
Nothing. But at least they wouldn't begrudge a fellow
a drop of water.

Dark Muse
01-11-2009, 10:56 PM
Pulse!
a heart beat
Pulse!
sound of rhythm
Pulse!
blood streams
Pulse!
a sign of life
Pulse!
a rushing force

a heart beat
sound of rhythm
blood streams
sign of life
a rushing force

It can all end in a

Pulse!

Dark Muse
01-13-2009, 11:28 PM
Different parts of a flower
all lined up
in rows from
a-z
arrayed
for the eye to see
from Azalea petals
to Zinnia leaves
anther
calyx
filament
ovary and ovule
peduncle holding up
the petals
sepal
stigma and style
these are the things
when pieced together
create such budding beauty
while dissected apart
make Latinous dribble.

firefangled
01-14-2009, 10:02 PM
Nice one DM. I'm not so sure it's weird at all. It's really quite true.

kiz_paws
01-14-2009, 10:49 PM
I love this thread. I think that the Weird Poems are awesome! :nod:

Dark Muse
01-15-2009, 02:39 AM
Nice one DM. I'm not so sure it's weird at all. It's really quite true.

Hehe thank you

firefangled
01-21-2009, 07:11 PM
in which I fall asleep,
in the field behind my house.

eventually they call it vacant,
the locust tree root—
black in a world of color—
pushes up the sidewalk,
leading to the street.

the man in the movie speaks
like Montgomery Clift,
he looks through my eyes,
so he cannot see me

and there are no mirrors
in the world unless I wake.

Silas Thorne
01-22-2009, 04:29 AM
He plays the sonnet, held tight to his breast,
earnestly waiting for those who know best.
There shakes the feather, held down on the ground:
'let me free!, let me free!',
yet the thoughts had no sound.

Would that I could, eat a trick of the light,
Then we would be alright,
Then my thoughts would run free.

Silas Thorne
01-22-2009, 04:33 AM
Different parts of a flower
all lined up
in rows from
a-z
arrayed
for the eye to see
from Azalea petals
to Zinnia leaves
anther
calyx
filament
ovary and ovule
peduncle holding up
the petals
sepal
stigma and style
these are the things
when pieced together
create such budding beauty
while dissected apart
make Latinous dribble.

Great!
This is my favorite poem of yours, Dark Muse. The last lines really hit home.

blp
01-22-2009, 06:38 AM
in which I fall asleep,
in the field behind my house.

eventually they call it vacant,
the locust tree root—
black in a world of color—
pushes up the sidewalk,
leading to the street.

the man in the movie speaks
like Montgomery Clift,
he looks through my eyes,
so he cannot see me

and there are no mirrors
in the world unless I wake.

This is totally ace.

blp
01-22-2009, 06:51 AM
Illustrated phone book phonetic abridged
computers

Had win, canopy digest clogged ventricle it is


livid mentions in the popular press
sexualised outrage spattering the pages
Swindon train station car park,
matches, cigarettes, fried breakfast


O veil of tears populated by
Nazi sympathisers, obese wild-eyed Christian funny-mentalists,

flecks of spit landing on their loved ones,

and members of the

automotive association, Top Gear on, glued to the screen,
bringing on coronary arrest, slapping their knees, kids around, tying nooses

for pedestals.

firefangled
01-22-2009, 08:52 AM
And it does hang together, in a code sort of way. Love funny-mentalist!

You have to show me how you were able to employ other than left justification.

firefangled
01-22-2009, 08:59 AM
what you meant by because

those sharp sounds,
skin on skin grinding,
your blues.

say you’ve changed

shall I remember
I was safe

pause time
for a small lie,

tell me I played
in the sand
my new life
and salty air,

why foam
rung the castle
before the water
rolling in
from further out,
wave after wave

after wave.

skin on skin silent,
sliding snake
strikes
snapping branches
fallen debris
along the trails of us
we made

them,

are making them
in these years
where vanishing begins —

irregular it was,
where to go,
selfish mapping
seemed to say
you had changed
your ways
he found unknowable,

lying now

under a tarnishing stone,

you,
not even a pebble
in his bed of cold comfort.

What are you giving me
that seems like love
and tears,
that I give back

because

there is nothing else
that lives here in red

or blue

blp
01-22-2009, 10:01 AM
And it does hang together, in a code sort of way. Love funny-mentalist!

You have to show me how you were able to employ other than left justification.

Thanks.

'code' is the key: code tags specifically, as follows, but without the spaces: [code ] [/ code]. So that's the explanation for why the word's at the top of all this, not that it's part of the poem, but it's not the first time it's been read that way.

jekan blazer
01-22-2009, 04:46 PM
:banana:
A…
AB…
ABC…
ABCD…
ABCDE…
ABCDEF…
ABCDEFG…
ABCDEFGH…
ABCDEFGHI…
ABCDEFGHIJ…
ABCDEFGHIJK…
ABCDEFGHIJKL…
ABCDEFGHIJKLM…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMN…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNO…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOP…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQ…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQR…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRS…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRST…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTU…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUV…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVW...
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWX…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWX…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVW...
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUV…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTU…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRST…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRS…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQR…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQ…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOP…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNO…
ABCDEFGHIJKLMN…
ABCDEFGHIJKLM…
ABCDEFGHIJKL…
ABCDEFGHIJK…
ABCDEFGHIJ…
ABCDEFGHI…
ABCDEFGH…
ABCDEFG…
ABCDEF…
ABCDE…
ABCD…
ABC…
AB…
A…

:smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash:
:smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash:
:smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash:
:smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash::smash:

Silas Thorne
01-22-2009, 06:13 PM
Thanks, blp, for a tip on that.
Great poem, firefangled. :)
I love this bit:


skin on skin silent,
sliding snake
strikes
snapping branches
fallen debris
along the trails of us
we made

them,

are making them
in these years
where vanishing begins —

I just love
along the trails of us/we made

jekan, that's just wasting space. I don't see any creativity in it. Try to do something interesting and original next time, anyone could do what you've done. This doesn't require any thought really.

Silas Thorne
01-22-2009, 06:15 PM
(I express concern for the state of mind of a Mr. S---, who this morning gave me the following lines.)


In the news yesterday
they said that
the shooting of officials from the Chinese Sanlu group
will melt the east polar ice shelf.
'Shoot another, no problem!'
A Beijing
taxi driver, said.

Meanwhile torture was banned
in the US
not excluding places
hired for short-term use
which also cause the water level to rise
and affect tourism in Venice.

The moon needs more water.

We can just hop over
and fill up its rivers
after we have made
enough profit from war
and jelly babies
and reruns of reality shows
and attended the funeral
of Ricardo Montalban.

firefangled
01-23-2009, 10:54 AM
I think you summed up what the state of network news is doing to us.

Bill Moyers couldn't have said it better.

I started to write if he were a poet, but realized he is.

firefangled
01-23-2009, 11:04 AM
Oven set at 550

He had the worse sense of timing.
called drunk when I was nearing
the crisp edge of Fish Spencer
Me, without my eight for two days
thanks to full-moon cats, ill-timed dr. peppers
and the iron bed across the house
which shrieks at 3 A.M. with
childish dreaming.

I only want to tell you how I feel
You won’t dissuade me from my thoughts
with chummy visions of a brighter world;
I’m unwilling to be converted
to gods that you yourself will not believe in.
I’m ugly, torn and wrong about it all,
I believed the sun was hot,
I‘ve seen it through my window,
highlighting my dust.

Yes! I said, fully convinced he was on to something.
I couldn’t help reminding him that misery is a slice of life,
Better than feeling nothing.

I’ve been called a b..ch so rarely



Thank you so much Riesa! There is nothing like a good wallow in negativity to make one feel better. It's so refreshing.

Wow 550! That's heavy duty crispy cooking.

This is becoming my favorite thread.

blp
01-23-2009, 09:02 PM
Yeah, that's really great, Riesa. I hadn't noticed it before, so thanks for pulling it back up, firefangled.

EDIT
No wait, I had noticed it before and even commented. Idiot. Something in this poem seems to bring out the fog-brained dimwit in me. 'knock-poem'. And now this.

Il Penseroso
01-23-2009, 10:43 PM
Crinkled as a frozen smile in abstract space
his forehead loomed, a thicket of frostbitten snaps
storming the shell of an afterthought.

Boyish plump cardigans showcased a career
midstride, jasmine turtles causing inventories
of available sound, repercussions lounging
over the sea.

Findings conditioned to the sound of waves
against a neon deck, partitioned coasts
and exagerated conundrums of how it all felt
up there on the moor, suspense eagerly
within grasp, suddenly disfigured.



eh, probably just wasting space

blp
01-24-2009, 10:07 AM
eh, probably just wasting space

No such thing in this neighbourhood.

kiz_paws
01-24-2009, 04:53 PM
Crinkled as a frozen smile in abstract space
his forehead loomed, a thicket of frostbitten snaps
storming the shell of an afterthought.

Boyish plump cardigans showcased a career
midstride, jasmine turtles causing inventories
of available sound, repercussions lounging
over the sea.

Findings conditioned to the sound of waves
against a neon deck, partitioned coasts
and exagerated conundrums of how it all felt
up there on the moor, suspense eagerly
within grasp, suddenly disfigured.



eh, probably just wasting spaceNo, No, I LOVED this! :thumbs_up :nod:
The first stanza made me smile HUGELY, which is exactly what I needed this afternoon. Thank you ever so much, my friend!
[**walks away whistling**]

firefangled
01-24-2009, 09:03 PM
why
rainbows
bow

heavy
in
locale

rain
colors
pierce

dismal
clouds
redeemed

how
brightness
hides

purple
black
orange

green
yellow
blue

lambent
edge
beyond

we
crimson
are

Il Penseroso
01-24-2009, 11:04 PM
No, No, I LOVED this! :thumbs_up :nod:
The first stanza made me smile HUGELY, which is exactly what I needed this afternoon. Thank you ever so much, my friend!
[**walks away whistling**]

Thanks kiz. And that's exactly how I felt walking to work yesterday when that first line came to me. I was in such a jolly mood (through the cold) I was damn near skipping.

kiz_paws
01-25-2009, 04:31 AM
Thanks kiz. And that's exactly how I felt walking to work yesterday when that first line came to me. I was in such a jolly mood (through the cold) I was damn near skipping.
Well there you go. May you have many more 'weird' thoughts, lol! ;)


why
rainbows
bow

heavy
in
locale

rain
colors
pierce

dismal
clouds
redeemed

how
brightness
hides

purple
black
orange

green
yellow
blue

lambent
edge
beyond

we
crimson
are And I loved the simplicity of this poem, fire. 'Weird' poems are becoming more and more my cup of tea, lol. But seriously, these are awesome, people. :nod:

blp
01-25-2009, 09:05 AM
Oftenner you gave of your matronly disquisitions withal a catafalque or a chaise delineated thereupon
to repose
charming lady you with your tutelary airs and salivatory habillements I have come hereto to
detail a detail of these
your visions

soap lard cooking grease I do not want
I am not
cannot
do not know to say to be or do
this here this tone or tongue I can
not tell it for a wink or
burp

So
dreaming there on a fragrant lawn

blah blah blah blah

walked up the steps
two at a time
talking too fast
covered in grime
head first into the scullery
and began therewith
by means of a chicken baster and a mop
to perpetrate acts of the grossest obscenity
and I don’t mind telling you

it was wonderful

blp
01-25-2009, 09:10 AM
largesse too great for this tipple of mine so saying
going fast backwards with extraordinary dexterity
(he’s on something, whispered the lardeboucher tuttingly)
and thereby approaching and cutting in simultaneously
based an entire novel on the incident, devastating insight
you could not make it up, he said, so I nicked it.

firefangled
01-25-2009, 12:24 PM
:lol: :lol:

blp, you are the master of wierd!

Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinah (for lack of a better title) cracked me up!

blp
01-25-2009, 01:27 PM
:lol: :lol:

blp, you are the master of wierd!

Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinah (for lack of a better title) cracked me up!

Thank you, thank you. Too kind, but thank you. :D
That title'll do for me.

kiz_paws
01-25-2009, 10:38 PM
Oftenner you gave of your matronly disquisitions withal a catafalque or a chaise delineated thereupon
to repose
charming lady you with your tutelary airs and salivatory habillements I have come hereto to
detail a detail of these
your visions

soap lard cooking grease I do not want
I am not
cannot
do not know to say to be or do
this here this tone or tongue I can
not tell it for a wink or
burp

So
dreaming there on a fragrant lawn

blah blah blah blah

walked up the steps
two at a time
talking too fast
covered in grime
head first into the scullery
and began therewith
by means of a chicken baster and a mop
to perpetrate acts of the grossest obscenity
and I don’t mind telling you

it was wonderfulOh the visions! Love this weird wonder. :D
"blah blah blah blah" was particularly insightful, LOVED it! :p

blp
01-26-2009, 07:43 AM
Oh the visions! Love this weird wonder. :D
"blah blah blah blah" was particularly insightful, LOVED it! :p

*laughing* Thank you, kiz.

jekan blazer
01-27-2009, 01:02 PM
stranded,
stranded on the toilet bowl.
what do you do when you're stranded
with nothing on the roll?

Riesa
01-27-2009, 01:49 PM
Hawthorn — I take my brother back to his building.
It’s all beige stone and steel,
a small garden, maybe from saved seeds,
cucumber and watermelon,
the green vine outside the entry door,
planted, the way a thief hides a jewel,
but the sun finds it and sends a small light
into the room, like a distant star, as if to say,
grow so death can find you, or be lost before you begin.


firefangled ~ another example of you writing the poem that I needed to read just at this time. It's like if I were devout and flipped open a prayer book to just the right verse.

thanks, ff. and blp. for the praise re 550 poem, a poem about my brother. 550 is super hot temp for cooking, but makes the crispiest coated succulent fish in all of six minutes. mmmm. dinner tonight, I think.

Riesa
01-27-2009, 01:51 PM
Billy? but I hate Billy!
Singing slow songs in my dreams;
Wakes me up!
Why would billy-billy-billy
Be writing nonsense in my head?

Acoustical rockabye
doowah doowahs
Limited lyrical lulla-bees
buzzho, buzzho.
Hornical Monotonounaus Automatonas
Spotted with large-rimmed binocularons
Calling no sleep, beep beep.
No sleep, beep beep, nosleepbeepbeep
nosleepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep

firefangled
01-27-2009, 02:16 PM
firefangled ~ another example of you writing the poem that I needed to read just at this time. It's like if I were devout and flipped open a prayer book to just the right verse.

thanks, ff. and blp. for the praise re 550 poem, a poem about my brother. 550 is super hot temp for cooking, but makes the crispiest coated succulent fish in all of six minutes. mmmm. dinner tonight, I think.

You don't have to be devout for my prayer book, Riesa, but I sure appreciate you coming to church. :D

I'm going to try that on the Red Snapper in my frig tonight.

firefangled
01-27-2009, 02:23 PM
Billy? but I hate Billy!
Singing slow songs in my dreams;
Wakes me up!
Why would billy-billy-billy
Be writing nonsense in my head?

Acoustical rockabye
doowah doowahs
Limited lyrical lulla-bees
buzzho, buzzho.
Hornical Monotonounaus Automatonas
Spotted with large-rimmed binocularons
Calling no sleep, beep beep.
No sleep, beep beep, nosleepbeepbeep
nosleepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep

Love your taxonomy. I believe that one appears in the anniversary edition of Petersen's Field Guide.

No matter what I try, I can't get that little bird to sing me awake with a sweet song.

Riesa
01-27-2009, 02:42 PM
You don't have to be devout for my prayer book, Riesa, but I sure appreciate you coming to church. :D

I'm going to try that on the Red Snapper in my frig tonight.

Just don't expect any alms. I already gave. ;)

..they are native to the Texas Hill Country, but ornithologists have recently located a cousin living in Burma. They are seen skirting the edges of lakes under waxing crescent moons, their song is only considered sweet on the first day of summer vacation, when it at last quiets to an inaudible sigh.

this is what I do:

soak filets in warm milk with a pinch of salt for 10-20 mins,
press in bread crumbs

place on ungreased baking sheet,
drizzle with olive oil,

bake at 550 for 6 ish minutes....depends on the thickness of your filets.


I realize this is not a recipe thread,
just read it as a wierd poem please.

Veva
01-27-2009, 03:29 PM
Riesa I really love your poem, I think it is great.. :thumbs_up

blp
01-29-2009, 06:45 PM
Allwine curator of Caroline ventricles peachy keen said sollemnly
Hi there, kids, come get your knees scraped,
meet me in St. Louis
It's the latest place
for staying ape-shaped
and breaking eight rates
for currying state gates
pass it on
buy British
be bold
you know
I got
soul.

firefangled
01-29-2009, 11:46 PM
people
wait
in your head,

aspirin
on the radio
is there,
you too,
a poem,

almost —

ringing phone

Riesa
01-29-2009, 11:55 PM
thanks, Veva.
familiar, ff.

Imagine if you
were this new-born grass,
when would you be the weakest?
Right after a rain.

I realize that this is NOT Disneyland
and there is quite a bit more
to this than providing a rush.

Dark Muse
01-30-2009, 02:16 AM
Pursued by a bear
running in fear
blood pumping fast
panting for breath
don't want to look back
feel it comming down after me
hot breath on my neck
think I might wet myself
or have a heart attack
what can I do
I find myself running in place
as if suddenly trapped in glue
but I need to escape
jaws opened wide
enough to swallow my head
all in one bite
when suddenly
open my eyes
wake up in a cold sweat
find myself in bed
twisted in my sheets
"Tiger" I shout, and
push the cat off my face.

Delta40
01-30-2009, 03:08 AM
I want to dip my big toe into this temptation pool
So I can feel what pleasures the fool
Not too much I say to my beating heart
I deserve this, and gently pull apart
A moist sweaty sock
But then I find to my dismay
Its too much for me to handle this way
As I gaze at my toes
Evenly lined in a row
And realize it isn't to be
I cannot have this indulgence in life
Unless I'm prepared to dip in all five!

Il Penseroso
01-30-2009, 02:02 PM
All things end, flicker out like a bulb
breaking into sand,
the earth salted with egg shells,
plastic bags, an apocalypse
opening from garbage cans,
lidless, empty as the wind.

Riesa
01-30-2009, 06:38 PM
very nice, IP. You know, maybe we should have a thread entitled: Write a Random Poem, some of these don't strike me as weird, or angry or bad, just kind of random, and random in a way that doesn't beg to be critiqued in the main Poetry forum.

blp
01-30-2009, 07:17 PM
I agree. Good one, IP.

Also


Was thinking of starting a thread called 'Let your unconscious run rampant' or 'Write automatically' or 'Don't think, just babble', but I guess this will do the job.

But to put the counterview, it's already difficult, at times, to know whether to go weird or bad.

blp
01-30-2009, 08:05 PM
You're changing your palliative memory
with a coach bar for a tertiary match
well then, I can see that, but just for the sake of discussion
if thinking was working as you insist
if you were labelled like the ham you portray
in your sunlit morning hours, there
by the fountain
what then, oh petulant, unlucid cherry blossom,
what use would your iambic incantation be
against the paintings of a motorised detention centre
upon the seesawing fortunes of a mortgage backed
indemnity vehicle
on a clear summer afternoon?

blp
01-30-2009, 08:32 PM
Foregoing then further with fallow failure
followed us back along the grass verge
unfeeling, fatigued, fetid, disconsolate, so
I got up, walked out, took a walk, awoke
watched a newsreel about Surinam, or
somewhere similar, smelt a saltbush,
slipped on something more comfortable,
stretched and redrew, repapered, re-
defined all my desert meanderings
in the light of new knowledge
about you, Hedwig, callous, fickle,
unkind, unkempt, single bore Martian.

Il Penseroso
01-30-2009, 10:22 PM
Thanks, both.

I agree it's often very hard to tell. When I wrote mine I wasn't really in a very weird mood, but I think this thread works for random. Just keeping Weirdness in the back of my head while writing helps free me.

(blp I think wears the weirdness crown)

blp
01-30-2009, 10:35 PM
(blp I think wears the weirdness crown)

Shucks, I just say what I feel, y'know?

I guess I win on quantity anyway.

firefangled
02-01-2009, 04:49 PM
tents, and we were fireflies
in a cravaneted jars
strung together and canned—
but I hated sardines,
too much salt, kills the snail—
ears,
epic nights,
between the faces of light,
neither black nor morning,
imagining the sky was below us
like grains of sand,
our flashlights illuminating nothing

blp
02-02-2009, 09:10 AM
When it's really a matter of black frostbite
Irreversible injuries, not just picturesque
Poetic pain, the craziness comes
Straight out of a MacDonald's Happy Meal Box
Straight out of one's dogged intent to really
Do something peculiar with time and space
These phone calls full of gloomy regret,
These forlorn lookings backwards you want to reverse,
The thing about other people is
they have to die too.
In order to see through the glass less darkly,
I think I should think more about dying.
But what am I saying?
I don't know; I wrote the last line first.
As if it was in Sanskrit,
The poem is happening backwards;
I don't even know what I'm seeing
Just now
I hallucinated that the snowflakes
were coming right through the window pane.

Il Penseroso
02-04-2009, 02:09 PM
Very nice, blp.

Coleslaw slacked across his jaw
a geezer crumbled cream, razor-like
in the sickening abscess of his maw.
A plaid workmen's shirt carried
the dressing spilled from fuzzy
crinkles in his cheek, a robust
Pollack-print performed by age.

Il Penseroso
02-05-2009, 12:43 AM
A tangle massages the sound
of a clear silhouette, storm
beyond these clouds,
tearing the sky into shards,
as static clings to the drymachine spark,
tufts carry a pain of springing

kiz_paws
02-05-2009, 01:09 AM
When it's really a matter of black frostbite
Irreversible injuries, not just picturesque
Poetic pain, the craziness comes
Straight out of a MacDonald's Happy Meal Box
Straight out of one's dogged intent to really
Do something peculiar with time and space
These phone calls full of gloomy regret,
These forlorn lookings backwards you want to reverse,
The thing about other people is
they have to die too.
In order to see through the glass less darkly,
I think I should think more about dying.
But what am I saying?
I don't know; I wrote the last line first.
As if it was in Sanskrit,
The poem is happening backwards;
I don't even know what I'm seeing
Just now
I hallucinated that the snowflakes
were coming right through the window pane.Dear gawd, this is a dandy. Think of the heads spinning at a smokey coffeehouse as you stand at the mike... :D

I love it! :nod:



A tangle massages the sound
of a clear silhouette, storm
beyond these clouds,
tearing the sky into shards,
as static clings to the drymachine spark,
tufts carry a pain of springing:thumbs_up Awesome 'weird' poem, IP; there's a lot of charge going on here -- you can feel the pulse of a dilly of a storm! :eek:

Dark Muse
02-05-2009, 03:07 AM
Break Down

Heat pulsing
mind racing
head pounding
slipping
loosing my grip
oxygen-breath-
air-need-drink-
drowning-starving
whirlwind suck me
up, flushed free
pins and needles
prick my skin
no sanctuary
SCREAM
while I flea
bare feet bleeding
pumping-gasp
gagging
overwhelmed
breaking down

Silas Thorne
02-05-2009, 06:33 AM
wilbur's walrus cuffed me with a twig
I haven't a fig or mention what you twaddle, quoth he with a waddle,
crumping in silence with Sally the pig
in proud green battles with beach-bleached white sailors.

blp
02-05-2009, 08:07 AM
Dear gawd, this is a dandy. Think of the heads spinning at a smokey coffeehouse as you stand at the mike... :D

I love it! :nod:

Thanks, kiz - and IP for previous props. Glad you like it because it seems to me to have something too, though I might do more to it. And regarding IP's second post, though both were good, I agree about the second standing out. It's got a great violence about it.



:thumbs_up Awesome 'weird' poem, IP; there's a lot of charge going on here -- you can feel the pulse of a dilly of a storm! :eek:

blp
02-05-2009, 08:15 AM
Lo, from these folds of
an ancient land
the woods and meadows
marked by the honorable scars of
gallantry,
once more,
when malevolent intent describes
a glowering shadow round and through
the fabric of the good society,
yea, then shall arise once more
the muscular form of fiercest virtue
lashing the very air
in hunger for the challenge:
Champion,
the wonder horse.

firefangled
02-09-2009, 05:11 PM
Should I remove my shoes?
Yesterday, in her wimple,
Sister Cecilia’s rhythm, I must confess,
caught my ear,
and only then my eye, her sleeves rolled far,
her arms dimpling with the strain, winter pines
rubbing in the wind, caught in her sound of scrubbing.

Should I touch my hat,
passing her in the narrow hall—a breeze
follows the habit of Poor Clare—the brim
across my stare, do I dare to raise my hand?

How is it those trees are more beautiful in snow,
rags against the tattered bark and spreading seeds?
Where shall I confess these memories, and less
than that, who will know my heart when I am dead?

a_little_wisp
02-09-2009, 05:31 PM
TOO much fun to pass up! ALL of you are incredible!

(It's long, I'm very sorry. :( )

then there was that time i was eaten by an anaconda.


I was trapped in an anaconda.
(“-Wait, wait, what?”
“Dude, just listen.”)
I had been eaten, to be more specific.
It was I who stepped into that murky water –
I was not pushed -
Half-aware of what was lurking beneath,
Waiting for its next meal.
I found myself being eaten alive,
Not quite chewed, it’s a snake, after all-
It’s true, I barely had a moment to scream before I was
Swallowed whole, into the dark pits of the beast's belly.
("- Don't roll your eyes at me,
I speak from experience!"
"Was it rather like being in a dumpster?")
I clawed at the slick lining of that
Slimy, taut, unyielding wall,
Until the space became too little
For me to even breathe,
And my arms were suddenly clenched to my sides
And my muscles burned with pain.
I would have screamed,
But I could no longer feel my face,
Or my flesh.
In the once wide world I was now a lump
In a snake,
And I would suffocate.
("That is so weird."
"It's my story,
Of course it's going to be weird!")
Half-digested,
Half-decayed,
Half-alive,
I awoke-
(“That’s not true,” you say,
“You should have died.”
“Shut up,” I reply,
“And let me tell my god*mn story.”)
No, I became the snake,
“I am the snake. I have no name,
I am the creature.”
We were one, living in the depths of a
Jungle’s river- we were the hidden one.
I died enough, you could say,
But one day, while idly swimming by
The shore I saw a bird who sang to me,
She said, “You were once human,
You have the eyes of a human, and
You do not eat humans,
You are sick, you starve, you will not feed-
If you will not succumb, why not try fighting?”
("Who's the bird?"
I sip my tea, calmly, and reply in an even tone:
"Not all my stories are metaphorical."
"Whatever.")
And I said, “Do you dare speak so boldly to me,
Who could end your life in an instant?”
The little bird laughed in my face, and I recoiled,
Shrank away from the sound, for I was so small by then
That perhaps she could have eaten me-
I wasn’t sure.
“Do you want me to help you?”
“No,” I snapped. “I put myself in the river,
I can take myself out when I wish to leave.”
But I wasn’t so sure then,
And suddenly I felt like I was being
Constricted, all over again,
But now
Within my own body.
“You have a very inflated sense of pride,”
The little bird remarked, but I could only hiss in response at her.
And then I cried.
("Don't laugh.

- okay, you can laugh.")
But snakes can’t cry, it makes no sense, but I had to,
I would die if I didn’t.
However,
Warm and snug and safe and half-dead in this body,
I didn’t want to leave. I was a snake and –
“You’re not a snake.”
I wasn’t?
And it came to me that
I stepped in that river because I couldn’t stop myself,
Because I’d taken one step down a steep hill and had forgotten to hit the brakes
When it mattered most.
So there I was, in a river of sludge,
And there it came, the snake,
And I barely fought it.
("You would be the one to trip
And fall into the amazon river
And get eaten by an anaconda.")
“What will they think of me,
The humans? They have great stories to tell,
They’ve seen wondrous things,
And I’ve only stories of sludge and starvation.
Where are they now,
What have they done with their lives?”
The little bird cocked her head to the side
And seemed to smile,
(“But, of course, that’s silly,
Birds have beaks,
They can’t smile.”),
And she said,
“Why, not all are humans.
Some fell in worse traps than yours.
But we can always escape,
If we remember that we’re human –
We have the choice-
We always have a choice.”
“But I’ve been eaten whole- there’s
Nothing left of me.”
“Then start over.”
“I’m scared.”
“Then die.”

Such paralyzing fear swept over me then.

And I rose, and I tried to stand,
But I had no legs,
So I began to shed.
I pushed,
I strained at the corded bonds around me,
At the thick muscle,
(“Not unlike escaping mother’s womb!"
Because it's my duty to quote movies
No one has ever heard of.)
And my skin shed,
Layer after layer,
And I rolled and fought
Against the itch that
Nearly forced me to give in
And just be a snake,
In my river,
In my sludge,
Left alone.
And then I screamed.
The sound was so deliciously my own that
I tore even harder at the skin –
Now my hands were there,
And then they ached from the force of the fight–
But the bird helped, pulling off the layers,
Pecking at the skin.
“I’m so tired, I can’t fight,”
I wept, and felt weak and ashamed.
“You have to fight, you’re almost there.”
And then...
And then there was one last layer, coating me as a cocoon would.
At my first movement it tore, so delicate it was,
Crisp to the touch.
("Oh, like a wafer?")
I unwrapped myself,
And stood, naked,
But unashamed-
I was free.
And the little bird flew away,
Because she had her own life,
And I had mine.
I took my first step up that steep slope,
And I fell countless times
On my new limbs,
But I was dying -
Well, I won't say that
- to see what awaited me at the top
Of that ridge.
And so I rose,
Again and again.
And do you know what I found?

"Um, no."
That’s all right.
Neither do I-
I think that’s part of the adventure.

Dark Muse
02-10-2009, 11:15 PM
Virus

Twisted inside
opened-closed
gnawed
limbo between
waking
sleeping
walking
standing
Light to dark
flicker-fade
shift-change
days into nights
into weeks
still half-alive
grotesque misery
trying to deny
seeking numbness
inside
but refused
left cracked
open

kiz_paws
02-11-2009, 03:33 AM
Lo, from these folds of
an ancient land
the woods and meadows
marked by the honorable scars of
gallantry,
once more,
when malevolent intent describes
a glowering shadow round and through
the fabric of the good society,
yea, then shall arise once more
the muscular form of fiercest virtue
lashing the very air
in hunger for the challenge:
Champion,
the wonder horse.Very cool. The ending caused me to go back and savour the poem a second time. :)


Should I remove my shoes?
Yesterday, in her wimple,
Sister Cecilia’s rhythm, I must confess,
caught my ear,
and only then my eye, her sleeves rolled far,
her arms dimpling with the strain, winter pines
rubbing in the wind, caught in her sound of scrubbing.

Should I touch my hat,
passing her in the narrow hall—a breeze
follows the habit of Poor Clare—the brim
across my stare, do I dare to raise my hand?

How is it those trees are more beautiful in snow,
rags against the tattered bark and spreading seeds?
Where shall I confess these memories, and less
than that, who will know my heart when I am dead?I loved the nostalgic feeling I got when reading the first two verses. But that third verse was very powerful. Ending with a question like that was awesome, I really enjoyed this one. :nod:

Riesa
02-11-2009, 01:22 PM
Should I remove my shoes?
Yesterday, in her wimple,
Sister Cecilia’s rhythm, I must confess,
caught my ear,
and only then my eye, her sleeves rolled far,
her arms dimpling with the strain, winter pines
rubbing in the wind, caught in her sound of scrubbing.

Should I touch my hat,
passing her in the narrow hall—a breeze
follows the habit of Poor Clare—the brim
across my stare, do I dare to raise my hand?

How is it those trees are more beautiful in snow,
rags against the tattered bark and spreading seeds?
Where shall I confess these memories, and less
than that, who will know my heart when I am dead?

wonderful stuff, ff.

Riesa
02-11-2009, 01:22 PM
Startled by sudden hail, radish shoots, garbage-men
laughing, yelling at dogs and liking the morning;

the perfume of broken tea, floating steam,
snapped towards the upbeat,
the jam jewel-like, tasting of sunlight;

noticing green again along with
the contrast I anticipate, but don’t think about,
like hearing, but not listening to,
the sound of wind chimes carried on a coastal breeze
through a window left open in another room,

in this sidelong way it comes to me
that it is possible you are,
and I have never been,
one of the race with
whole faces built of ice,
made to freeze the mellow
back to winter.

firefangled
02-11-2009, 01:48 PM
Startled by sudden hail, radish shoots, garbage-men
laughing, yelling at dogs and liking the morning;

the perfume of broken tea, floating steam,
snapped towards the upbeat,
the jam jewel-like, tasting of sunlight;

noticing green again along with
the contrast I anticipate, but don’t think about,
like hearing, but not listening to,
the sound of wind chimes carried on a coastal breeze
through a window left open in another room,

in this sidelong way it comes to me
that it is possible that you are,
and I have never been,
one of the race with
whole faces built of ice,
made to freeze the mellow
back to winter.

I like all the competing sensory inputs leading to the ending conflict.

I would leave out the "that" in "that you are" - that is if you want to do so. :)

Riesa
02-11-2009, 01:54 PM
I like all the competing sensory inputs leading to the ending conflict.

I would leave out the "that" in "that you are" - that is if you want to do so. :)

thanks, you were right.

SleepyWitch
02-12-2009, 07:06 PM
Death hovered in the off-yellow rug
and later it was night outside the popcorn crate.
A kid tipped me while the lamps tried to glare
and I knew you'd answer the phone "Ja bitte?".
Posh and cold.
I'd never ring you.
Meanwhile I got up every morning.
Should I be more afraid or less?
And, besides, if I knew how to cry,
I'd like to get drunk.
The phone rang, you jumped up,
a bit too fast, but softly,
stood a bit too straight, but weak,
and said your name.
I know I'll never ring you.

Silas Thorne
02-12-2009, 09:01 PM
Haven't we met before?
You were at the centre of the web
debating the existence
with the other coffee spiders,
one strong gust of wind, and the web was broken
I lost your number I told you.
Have you got a pen? Here, take my phone.
Hold it! Have you got it?
Just like that, yes.
There! I'll be back in two shakes of a banana
with milk, two eggs, and a little cream.
Your eye twitches in the background,
but I cannot read it.
Could I read it? What I once saw?



Blades of green grass
wrath Khan in his absence
the curtains shut me out
turning light turncoat on me

kiz_paws
02-13-2009, 02:40 AM
Riesa, I enjoyed your poem, and in particular the phrases
the perfume of broken tea, floating steam,
snapped towards the upbeat,
the jam jewel-like, tasting of sunlightVery beautiful. :)

Sleepy, your poem I enjoyed -- I liked that touch of German in it. :) And the resolve of the person that would not be ringing the other -- I liked the way the lines read.

Silas, your title was awesome -- loved it!
You were at the centre of the web
debating the existence
with the other coffee spiders,
one strong gust of wind, and the web was brokenThis was a very cool passage, I liked it a lot.



There! I'll be back in two shakes of a banana:D

SleepyWitch
02-13-2009, 05:44 AM
[B]Sleepy, your poem I enjoyed -- I liked that touch of German in it. :) And the resolve of the person that would not be ringing the other -- I liked the way the lines read.


thanks kiz :) but does it also become clear that the reasons for not ringing have changed?

Riesa
02-13-2009, 10:36 AM
Riesa, I enjoyed your poem, and in particular the phrases Very beautiful. :)

Sleepy, your poem I enjoyed -- I liked that touch of German in it. :) And the resolve of the person that would not be ringing the other -- I liked the way the lines read.

Silas, your title was awesome -- loved it! This was a very cool passage, I liked it a lot.


:D

Kiz, thanks so much for reading these. I sincerely hope that one day I will come to this thread a see that you have posted a wierd poem of your own, come on, pleeeeaaaaassssee? give it a whirl? :)

kiz_paws
02-13-2009, 11:45 AM
thanks kiz :) but does it also become clear that the reasons for not ringing have changed?
Well I took it that the person in the poem has discovered a cheater after all, so I would say that the reasons for not ringing changed at the end. :)


Kiz, thanks so much for reading these. I sincerely hope that one day I will come to this thread a see that you have posted a wierd poem of your own, come on, pleeeeaaaaassssee? give it a whirl? :)I absolutely LOVE reading what everyone posts, and they say that if one reads good stuff, there is a better chance of one writing good stuff. I don't feel that I'm there yet ... :blush:

I have a few things that I struggle with in writing poetry, and I am foolishly shy about it, je suppose. When I read my 'stuff', I think of Hallmark Cards for gawsh sakes... :blush:

Oh well, there is still the Haiku threads... :D

Thanks, Riesa, for your encouragement, and you keep up the awesome work. :thumbs_up

alakungfu
02-13-2009, 07:10 PM
Liberal Appeal


Pulsating through the bodies
of the has-beens and the hotties,
a new inarguable creed.
The by-product of greed,
the great and gruesome classes,
who can't clean up their gasses,
look on in massive scorn.
The ripple sect suborn
unwritten rule supporting
lewd celebrities cavorting
in blatant flattery
of a greasy battery
of presumptive fiscal soldiers,
propping the ratings games of Folgers.
and their modesty-snubbing siblings
fishing through the purse strings
of the teetotalling, unaddicted,
disaffected, undepicted,
disenfranchised, underrated,
unqualified and separated,
afflicted souls of the free base
of the selected core of constitutional case
the lucky, the proud, the old and the young
the root of the matter, the restive unsung.

blp
02-13-2009, 07:14 PM
Bullykins, madder, dely, mould, trough, swede of the folio, mathching socks decision time,
It's not a little detiny for gulping and clipping weeks of revenge fantasy and lying authoritarians.
But, y'know, sometimes Wellwyn vacuole or repeat meeting molting coat of marketry pointing
Will then eventually if tenuously leading no more from fast and round appreciate or coo
Calculated alike not for repeating or Mary who went there alone and not without her tutu
said Hi and loved the wind the rushing reeds and marsh flowers humming with buzzing
life of all kinds the rinklets of speciating look now coloured prettily likening to living on chuckles
keeping their ideas there and liking all the opposing factors and the wildness of loading cots
or cutting cheese in spite of the pollen, your hayfever, the domestic violence, the tornness
of your jeans. Oh well. At least [counts off only the beginning of long list of quotidian blessings]
And it's precisely to stop the stepping pedaco of chattles snood elegant mild row house
of powder blue, lemon yellow shutters, wide, uterine sky, cells wheeling, specks of what
what

alakungfu
02-13-2009, 07:19 PM
lode smith



To each his own,
Light yield,
Thrown scantily
Fur afield,
Narry so frigid,
Robust as gaunt,
The bust in theatre.
Drum, atnosphere's haunt!
The flame does stay,
The tear dries at the root,
The fire arrays
A primal likeness of soot.
The ideals fail,
The fever fades.
The station shifts -
The palazzo shades.
And the molten mass,
A puzzled deck of glass
Gleams in glossy strand
From some neighbouring land.

firefangled
02-14-2009, 02:48 PM
This was the decree:

no clichés

and of the words gather them
two <x> two into the synta

declamation forty <x> forty twelve <x> twelve
the drowning of the symbol<s>

they accrued in the banter from currents

<x> marked the spot synta rested there

they departed two <x> two

from the banter into the impeccable field
count them the sounds of the consummate

in absentia:
no wing song
phases of reflection silenced
censored the changing of the territories
soundless the torrents of atmosphere will fall

(mark them all <n> <v> <a> <p>)

sanguineness extinguished

no clichés


a man is speaking in his head
as if to write

the season of turning
through the window

outside in the branches sawing of the year

of her eyes he writes
of her
tucked bare legs on couches

in him his chest like before a rain a front

(passing through)

how she reaches on toes for kissing calves flexing

her finger now polish (Sanguineness Gloss)
in a coffee cup handle

glass in between them (glass) and the sawing the breaking free of

branches

she list–ens leg out under the table toes how she does this

he stutters remembering vaguely the lost words for these things

blp
02-14-2009, 06:52 PM
This is so good, I almost don't mind that the reasoning is so precisely opposed to my view.

alakungfu
02-17-2009, 04:30 PM
Rent Mosaic

Erroneous glitch,
felonious switch
stitched along
summa resinous pitch;
it breaches the mind -
trestles that bind -
finds the esoteric in signed
collected clocks that rewind.
A fault lies within
the most precious violin,
invading as a pretense,
a modelled figured sequin.
But the tone is the richer
for the internecine flaw hitcher
which her timbre vibrates nicely
and her solos so lovely feature.



Expeditious Vaunt

Cancelled sequence
In incontrovertible aspect,
Respective tense
Of philosophical dialect,
Having brought back from yore
The humanistic dialogue,
Language of more
Of sensationalized pedagogue.
How then to retain
The fruitful encounter
Of sound and the sane
In a determinate, yonder
And herein, a state
Of quasilude enhances
A dimensional date
For delayed second chances,
When true fate shuffles out
On a risque beat,
Ushering in little doubt
Of encroaching feat.

Il Penseroso
02-24-2009, 03:21 PM
An edible clairvoyance disintegrates
as absence flutters like a silken heart
over our skin, an anchored doctor
schooled in loops, trireme tangles and the stone-
combusted net of disorder, flowers
nestled in the final lap of lost seeds.

mmaria
02-25-2009, 06:29 PM
Narrow, straight
left, right
curved, unbalanced
inverted, untouched
discover, reveal
is it enough
or is it too much.

Dori
02-25-2009, 06:55 PM
N3Rd2 r3J01C3

r3J01C3 y3 n3rd2!
4Nd 48h0r 73H H3Rd2
7H023 DUm8 4Nd D3N23
@ 7H31R 0WN 3Xp3N23.
R3j01C3 y3 n3rD2!
4ND d37357 73H h3Rd2
7h023 m1ndL355 c0w2
W17 7h31R wh02, wH472, 4nd H0W2.
R3j01C3!

:alien:

blp
02-25-2009, 07:53 PM
Pallgrave reverberates matchlessly, fawning over an inviolable mink.
End this now, Atom Man, he cries out, gathering his powers about him like a
power glove.
At once, Harem Man and his conclave of super-powered concubines
sally forth from the bathhouse, hurling blasts of enzyme nutrient vapour
in concentrated form.
End? says Atom Man, unruffled, brushing the dust of a decimated city from his cruel lapel,
these trifles are a mere diversion. Look here, beyond this Mayan veil, observe the nucleotide, the contradictions of the quanta, here, in the always divergent centre,
is the joke you do not seek. But it seeks
you.

Silas Thorne
02-25-2009, 08:45 PM
Primate, my pet
given PG Tips and biscuits
a fine-toothed coat, suited ape
smile pretty for the camera!
Chimp, some jungle! Urban
man chump, fumbling
for cashbox keys bundled
on borderless journeys, chloroformed shrieks
pricetagged and painless.
Play, Bananaboy, play!
No, not on the
just polished coffee-table, Chimpsky!
Follow Simeon's house rules,
no climbing on the curtains,
don't play with the phone
or we'll send the cleaners clockwork like
to take you out tendered, treedweller!

firefangled
02-27-2009, 06:45 PM
N3Rd2 r3J01C3

r3J01C3 y3 n3rd2!
4Nd 48h0r 73H H3Rd2
7H023 DUm8 4Nd D3N23
@ 7H31R 0WN 3Xp3N23.
R3j01C3 y3 n3rD2!
4ND d37357 73H h3Rd2
7h023 m1ndL355 c0w2
W17 7h31R wh02, wH472, 4nd H0W2.
R3j01C3!

:alien:

This is choice! Choice I say. 4817 3NcR1P72huN. Maybe more.

Silas Thorne
03-01-2009, 09:58 PM
If only could be as happy as we
thought, once the winding road
had snapped from too much turning
around and around, like a
stairway to heaven friday night air guitar
fretless and hopeless, strung out
with much airtime, beating
Hugo the bear with batter splatter-pale,
and tricking for a fiver honey.

kiz_paws
03-04-2009, 03:51 AM
What colour is anger

red, as the flames
that once ignited my heart
blue, or is that just a feeling

black ... when there is no light
everything is black
even your glances

but what does it matter
it is all blurred in a crossfire
even the unspoken is painful

if there were no passion
we could lead spaghetti lives
limp and tasteless

so let the tears fall
it is my heart's way
of speaking for me

Hotaru
03-04-2009, 04:00 AM
Somone is gnawing on invicible bones
and there is nothing to do about it
as it is completely, and utterly, natural

There are those who gnaw on bones
and there are those who observe them
I observe them, and I favor this the most

Silas Thorne
03-04-2009, 11:08 PM
Alone he will address the troubles
and flaws of the times:
willfulness, ignorance
and drink driving.
Geriatric Man sees through their disguises
with a biff and a bam , zimzam,
flailing taichi magic out of his palms
he makes them eat fist munchkins,
sad and sorry for the day
they turned tail and flew from righteous mindery.
Geriatric man soars through the age
with the power of gentle manliness
and a stiffly starched tie,
throwing rude people onto the back of his pickup,
and processing the rubbish at the police station.

alakungfu
03-07-2009, 10:15 AM
Woven webs of written illustrations
Populate a seasoned structure
Prompting late and plural sensations
A concocted current reasoned rupture.

A perfect composition of smitten stealth
Steals the senses and lines the psyche's shelves
To decimate underwritten wealth
Left with the confounded nature of ourselves.

Hold a grace period to lend a thought
Of crystalline genius, a radical paragon,
And manufacture the ideas that were wrought
Outlining in elyptical polygon.

So mesmerized the mind at will
As per our following would uphold us
Entering the odd empty rind to fill
And surreptitiously build and mould us.

Riesa
03-08-2009, 02:54 AM
A Wasp Brings Music in Spring Clouds

A day like today with all of the windows thrown wide,
a new wasp near the rim, appearing to want out,
the window open so near, it seems a trick, as he somehow overlooks the exit.
I spatula him out.

The new wasp, lost, with no thought of life, but to life,

Caught on new blooms, the clouds and the wind,
the wind won’t stop, nor its music in clouds.
To play music would act against the wind,
would disturb the look of the clouds turning in on themselves,
no music, but a new wasp’s wings, the clouds, and the wind.

The wind sings of long-ago hills, a wild queen riding bareback,
breathing crushed clover and sunned horse,
running heavy and relentless as a mountain falling,
past the hut of an old mountain man,
an old man living on raspberry tea,
keeping warm by the blaze of peacock feathers,
the blazing eye of peacock tails, his mirror.
Sleeping in a circle of mushrooms,
dreaming of wild queens,
haikai on his tongue, like health.
A wasp lands in his tea and drowns.

No music on a day like today, but the wind sings of
the pallor of winter, the sorrow that strays over all endings,
no matter how anticipated, or welcomed.

In hours like these, nothing means more than the lyrics of clouds.

Riesa
03-08-2009, 04:00 AM
What colour is anger

red, as the flames
that once ignited my heart
blue, or is that just a feeling

black ... when there is no light
everything is black
even your glances

but what does it matter
it is all blurred in a crossfire
even the unspoken is painful

if there were no passion
we could lead spaghetti lives
limp and tasteless

so let the tears fall
it is my heart's way
of speaking for me


very nice. I liked " we could leave spaghetti lives, limp and tasteless" very much! yay, kiz. I loved it. :thumbs_up

mmaria
03-08-2009, 05:18 AM
?
OK
now
this's
I admit
I do things
when I see you
yes, I can't keep still
when I am far from you
it's something to remember
the way you walk so adorned
Your wardrobe fascinates my senses
the way you walk so adorned
it's something to remember
when I am far from you
yes, I can't keep still
when I see you
I do things
I admit
this's
now
OK
!

~Sophia~
03-08-2009, 11:37 AM
LOL mmaria, the first thing I thought of in "looking" at this shape poem was a wardrobe malfunction! Very weird, and clever. (typo in the 10th line)

mmaria
03-08-2009, 05:14 PM
LOL mmaria, the first thing I thought of in "looking" at this shape poem was a wardrobe malfunction! Very weird, and clever. (typo in the 10th line)

Thanks! The situation that inspired it was such: wierd and clever:lol:

SleepyWitch
03-10-2009, 09:33 AM
you talked of woods but there were no trees in your voice
and even as you grinned and called yourself my lover,
the stuffed crocodile peeped out from its planet under the ice
and phase-shifted round to abstract from itself some more

alakungfu
03-10-2009, 11:03 AM
Fitting together the interface
That once was dripping like slaw
Falling like moss at a rapid pace
Dodging arithmetic law.

Seldom again will the Mind do time
Within the confines of limits
Now I'm aware of a shift sublime
In the perspective of scale that rivets

Deftly the tools of calculating
Resonant fruits in filigree
Degrees o diffidence abating
In rays of shed reverie.

SleepyWitch
03-10-2009, 11:11 AM
Fitting together the interface
That once was dripping like slaw
Falling like moss at a rapid pace
Dodging arithmetic law.

Seldom again will the Mind do time
Within the confines of limits
Now I'm aware of a shift sublime
In the perspective of scale that rivets

Deftly the tools of calculating
Resonant fruits in filigree
Degrees o diffidence abating
In rays of shed reverie.

wow, this is really weird and I love the flow and rhymes.

SleepyWitch
03-10-2009, 11:37 AM
history flows slower around you,
measured glint when you cross the road.
I could have done my ritual of traipse and peek,
you could have done your ritual of smile and shoulder,
lips that could be sensual,
if there was malice
in the space between the sky outside your window
and the doorframe borderline,
I wouldn't have noticed the wars and the floods,
or the line-up of fathers gone by.
Life could have brushed through me, uninvolvedly content,
on its way from here to the night.

Il Penseroso
03-10-2009, 01:12 PM
Very nice Sleepy!

Il Penseroso
03-10-2009, 01:13 PM
Fitting together the interface
That once was dripping like slaw
Falling like moss at a rapid pace
Dodging arithmetic law.

Seldom again will the Mind do time
Within the confines of limits
Now I'm aware of a shift sublime
In the perspective of scale that rivets

Deftly the tools of calculating
Resonant fruits in filigree
Degrees o diffidence abating
In rays of shed reverie.

this is great too!

SleepyWitch
03-10-2009, 01:14 PM
Very nice Sleepy!

thanks Il Penseroso :)

kelby_lake
03-10-2009, 02:02 PM
Whirly
Twirly
Swirly
Curly
I am
A pretty Girly :)

kiz_paws
03-12-2009, 09:18 PM
very nice. I liked " we could leave spaghetti lives, limp and tasteless" very much! yay, kiz. I loved it. :thumbs_upThank you, Riesa. :blush:


A Wasp Brings Music in Spring Clouds

A day like today with all of the windows thrown wide,
a new wasp near the rim, appearing to want out,
the window open so near, it seems a trick, as he somehow overlooks the exit.
I spatula him out.

The new wasp, lost, with no thought of life, but to life,

Caught on new blooms, the clouds and the wind,
the wind won’t stop, nor its music in clouds.
To play music would act against the wind,
would disturb the look of the clouds turning in on themselves,
no music, but a new wasp’s wings, the clouds, and the wind.

The wind sings of long-ago hills, a wild queen riding bareback,
breathing crushed clover and sunned horse,
running heavy and relentless as a mountain falling,
past the hut of an old mountain man,
an old man living on raspberry tea,
keeping warm by the blaze of peacock feathers,
the blazing eye of peacock tails, his mirror.
Sleeping in a circle of mushrooms,
dreaming of wild queens,
haikai on his tongue, like health.
A wasp lands in his tea and drowns.

No music on a day like today, but the wind sings of
the pallor of winter, the sorrow that strays over all endings,
no matter how anticipated, or welcomed.

In hours like these, nothing means more than the lyrics of clouds. Though this is published in the "weird poetry" section, I wanted to say that it flows beautifully, and there is even something Hendrix-ish about it, if I may compliment you in this fashion. :nod:

firefangled
03-14-2009, 05:41 AM
No cars,
light coming up
with the radio-
Lenny’s here, really here.
Do you cry
when you play him,
where the fret moves into the music box?
I dance inside,
sometimes I risk it driving—
bow my head and shake
where the clear notes sound tenor up the neck,
bass in a tin can like a kick
oh my!
Muffin for my sweetheart—butter me—
whiskey’s too early, but those cigarettes
sleep in my heart like a snare vibrating
in the red rising sky, coffee me, it’s all I’ve got
left.

Here now, people come and go,
Lenny’s low loud lingering me in the parking lot—
I can’t leave you in this radio,
staring into the space behind the world,
your fingers walking like yellow pages—
not for sweet love or even neat coffee.


March 2009

alakungfu
03-16-2009, 04:43 PM
Aloft

Light
And
Urgent
Grazing
Hummingbirds

alakungfu
03-17-2009, 09:39 AM
The constancy of youth
Prompts the eons of their truth
And renders beneficial
The ranks of celebrated ritual.
The fortitude of chastity
Weaves a rustling rhapsody
That salvages the reputation
Lost in a tippling libation.
The essence of response
Is chagrin when more than once,
Because time will not tarry
And we're lost after we marry.
The cost of peccadilloes
Is the tax of waning paramours,
Missing when you reach them
And innocent if you teach them.

alakungfu
03-17-2009, 09:43 AM
Provocative vulnerability
Spewing from
Groomed tendrils
and costumes
and accessories
Tenderly outfitted
Premature felines
Frisk freely
or haunt the sidelines
headily
In the prime
Of their attractive
Natures
tares from
the frumpy mousetrappers
Waiting in their
Round middle-section-
Pampered frames.
Too kewpie;
cutie coos,
"What's to become
Of you?"

alakungfu
03-17-2009, 09:51 AM
Cultured fantasies
Have a proclivity of the eclectic,
Tend forth a frenzy
In fear of the apopleptic,
Hold down a bazaar
Of serially typecasting
Living to breathe
And wanting what's lasting.
Occupy a stage
Where the hot theme is roasting
Ferocious likenesses
In genres politely riposting;
Occurring in positives,
Preventative denial
before the mercury deadpans
Quickly scares up the dial.
The excitement will cconfounnd you
In your regalia of conceptions
And muddle your perspectives
With your tinctures of deceptions.
The drama will afford you
Opportunities and disaffections
And a timetable's worth
Of disavowals and exemptions.
The wiser for experience
Without a doubt
But never much closer
To crass tedium's antidote.

alakungfu
03-17-2009, 09:57 AM
Rule Number One:
Jump the gun;
Rule Number Two:
No rest-cue;
Rule Number Three:
Rut in glee;
Rule Number Four:
Work the floor;
Rule Number Five:
Toast of the town live;
Rule Number Six:
Internet flicks;
Rule Number Seven:
"Motional revvin':
Rule Number Eight:
Watching walls undulate'
Rule Number Nine:
Crashing dates refined;
Rule Number Ten:
In denial again.

SleepyWitch
03-17-2009, 05:49 PM
Here I was, about to stake everything
on one card
when it dawned
on me
that the game was off
and the philosopher butterfly wasn't circling me
because he liked my hair
but to defend his territory
and he tumbled on and looked for someone
else to defend it against.

Silas Thorne
03-17-2009, 07:24 PM
Superpeople move mountain
flashy *****slap the terrorist threat
with lightning palms red skin or surging
with the coolness of the toothy dead
the smily happy blooddrinkers,
shoot me round corners back to the capital
before breakfast, arm flying up boldly Yo ho!

Dayday kungfu practice makes us supremely ultimate
eight hour training is best
or cybernetic enhancement perhaps, having money,
also taking lots of super drugs
better to test first on people, be nice to animals.

But watching magic wonderbattles
soft in pleasant couchdom
only needs cost/energy of lifting a finger
or by online subscription or download.

Silas Thorne
03-17-2009, 07:26 PM
***** like butch, but itchier.

an7hrax
03-17-2009, 08:23 PM
refer to my post in personal poetry, all my works are really weird

SleepyWitch
03-18-2009, 05:21 AM
Dear Sir,
when you are finished pondering
man, language and the question
of free will,
could you please remind the person
that goes by your name that the one
who goes by mine is a concrete
entity bounded in time and space,
the time being here,
the space being now
for any value of IF.
Or, in conclusion,
this is you and me,
with probability on the horizon
and my question is "yes."

SleepyWitch
03-24-2009, 11:42 AM
tell me, when does 'some time' start
and is it gritty or is it pink and
when it ends
(how will I know?),
will it idly drift by or
drop with a clang?

Silas Thorne
04-15-2009, 08:31 PM
The Vogon fixed us to our seats
to take the words and make them greech
and dribble gluesome, like a toilet stench
which wandered grimly by the beach
to the sound of a ragged cowtooth moan.
Like cloggy marsh or faecal squelch
we felt it underneath our teeth,
and thought with every sodden breath
he'd made that room a place of death.
But screaming would not be polite,
since we had bade him come that night.

alakungfu
04-17-2009, 01:40 PM
Sizzling hot,
The pot calling the kettle
Charred,
Culling
More than just piecemeal
Scraps
For animal feed,
Spread liberally
In a sturdy
Trough,
Inspiring
Swine's
Minds and stomachs
To accept the
Nutrition
As a mainstay,
Not a temporary
Recuperation
Delivered
By rote
Without substance.

Tournesol
04-17-2009, 02:21 PM
They say that such intangibles as determination, success, willpower
And the like
Are meted out to everyone,
In a fair manner.
That one has to merely make the effort.
So why is it that it seems more of a challenge to some
More so than others?
Do all go through this agony,
This mind-wrenching, soul-gripping
Torture
In order to gain something that in no way has bearing
On the essence of one’s life?
Why should it be thus?

Jan 4, 2007
02.20

breathtest
04-17-2009, 03:49 PM
Following blindly through crystal landscapes,
Through bloody hallways opening empty doors,
Either side is the sun the moon is ahead
Above streets of winding fear

Close your eyes
I have no eyelids
Then cover them with your hands
Do not leer you might get caught
These foamed fingers scratching roughly at skin

Would you care if I left and never came back?
Walk golden-rimmed deserts
Where half-eaten scorpions breed with the sand.

PrinceMyshkin
04-18-2009, 10:49 AM
A vivid nightmare, beautifully rendered! In the 4th line of the second verse you might want to change "leer" to "fear"?

Silas Thorne
04-21-2009, 10:49 PM
Brave sons of steel
our voices hoarse, out of alignment,
grind off to metal points when men come near.
Blood beats us hard with rain
sharp shines our skin,
our throat's a pit of stone
the fruit has left. 'Tomorrow
is another day,' they smile
while we spit oil, gluggy on their shoes,
demand attention to an angled face
and turn in step with chiselled chins
to mark the bleeding endpoint to the stretch.

High above, the circular sawbird
carves up the sky to ragged flames
and all the horrid mess of it crumbles,
sprinkles tinsel in the mouths of starving fishes,
in streams bitten off the ocean of question.

And then when vapour, tired in our teeth,
burns off in slouching Summer's lot,
we'll know then that the pull of metal thoughts is strong,
and rest our iron bones from rage.

Il Penseroso
04-27-2009, 02:55 PM
Steel saliva still maintains its shine
of real experience, with lines of spittle
flecked from the tongue's patinaed sheen.
The silver crust of newly-molded words
chosen with exceptional care.

Sarasvati21
04-27-2009, 04:31 PM
i lie awake again tonight
and the echoes of my nightmare
are thrown back at me
from down the hall--
dancing up and down
like the big purple four-square balls
i used to trip over
during recesses
so long ago...

alakungfu
05-14-2009, 01:21 PM
Not by Chance

Never
Is the way I feel about you,
The chance that we'll ever be together
Ever since the look you gave me
That said
Never
Not in this life time.

blp
05-14-2009, 01:23 PM
Earthworm kitchen hope tape capital roving reporter Dave Louski coming to you live
from the cave dwelling not-so-recent past
It's
somehow nothing nor even going or getting and waiting it
just gets that way when you get it out, but inside, no
it's so very something else,
yes,
but not too much, no, nor too taut or kinked or kindled,
no,
not even with a whisk or a brisket
not even with a nosegay or a petit-four
and no
certainly not for you
Dave Louski
there in your up to the minute time traveling silver news globe.
hark at you
go get ya
ya hobgoblin, necromancing, singles-bar-frequenting nautical naught.
Where do you get off? O r r a t h e r I would, I mean should say,
When?

blp
05-14-2009, 01:30 PM
Tacticle pedant reprobate hopscotch queen, sorry,
king (it was the hair, something feminine, in particular
about your moustache, I'm sorry, I've been ill, a disease of the
brain pan, I'm
better now, but I still get these
febrile little
buzzing sensations
especially when someone nearby smells as bad as you.
I'm sorry, did I say that?
It wasn't me. I was not myself. I never am. No one is. There
is no self or causation. Nevertheless, we must take
responsibility for the selves we are not.
I choose Ghandi's.

firefangled
05-15-2009, 12:55 AM
Good to see you back B! Yes, the big Louski. we shared cheap scotch in a Ramada Inn bar in New Mexico. I was not the least uncomfortable with his nose.

alakungfu
05-15-2009, 02:32 PM
Exquisite intricacy

Bordering on

Technical genius,

Suggesting

Inordinate skills

Of the tarrying kind,

Brought to the surface by

Antiquary tastes,

Recognizing subtleties

Long forgotten

In contemporary

Contexts.

True vision

Mirroring

Innuendoed images

Gathers dust

In the

Tepid foyer

Of toasted declamation

Monamy
05-17-2009, 03:28 AM
Screams
is all I can hear in my ears.
Filled with the pain they bear.

I look around,
but it's so dark.
No, wait a minute,
there's a spark!
The sky is 'breaking up'
stars are falling down,
and the screams in the middle.

I try moving,
but I'm all tied up.
Tentacles of Malice
binding and leeching,
my life's torn away.

Beasts and Devils,
along with brighter
beings like Angels,
danced in an endless battle.

The Earth was crying,
creatures were dying,
screams were deafening,
and I was shouting...
but I knew I was alone.

Suddenly, everything stopped,
my senses went dull,
and I closed my eyes...
I expected to rise, heaving
from this hell I was dreaming.

But no, my friend, I wasn't on bed;
I was still there, I'm just simply dead.

alakungfu
05-20-2009, 10:58 AM
Aerie and fairie and fluffee and floss

The future in essence belongs to us.

We sift and discover it,

Part ways to deliver it,

And circumnavigate that which we have dislodged.

Ode to the resilient,

Ode to the wise,

We spend our life retaining

The rote they have dispensed,

And narry a regret have they despaired.

My horse for a future

I decry to the stars!

What is theirs is my right,

I’ll assert solemnly

To the knaves within the range that I’ll smite,

And I’ll pilfer the peasants

And sequester the virtuous

For want of an edict

That they would mine accost!

All for this a glorious captive audience

And the tribute shall follow.

The horseless troops back to the citadel,

Supported in the hearts

Of the prostrate multitude

Who partake of their rigorous rewards.

blp
05-24-2009, 06:17 PM
Alive boy overhead.

Hallo chaps. Keep your chins ups. Spake the lord. See the wheel. It’s a human show. It’s real.

Time tickler ribbon fancy motion sickness deride timetable figure fealty and fold a fatuous fatuity into feathers. Lick a pickle. Take a sandwich. Meet you half way. Scope for derailment. Scoop de poop. Prickle fickle pickle tickle. Salami.

Maybe it’s real or maybe it’s feel. Maybe it’s not a note but a gnat. I can’t tell too well just from the smell. I can’t smell too well anyway and it’s never too welly to smell it with hay.

Leaven it with bretheren said bed fed ked keep it for the veep seep under the toilet seat sweet skeet sheet heat beat. You go gone get gat got butt fut put tut stut cut shut hut whut brut. I’m liking de hiking. I’m miking the biking. It’s all to my liking and it’s totally frightening and whitening. Kind of told the hold fold gold. Kind of bedded the headed wedded, totally shedded, completely shredded. Knife the the heart, in part for a fart by a tart with a cart. Step to my loo, keep to the poo, seep through the shoe and defeel the flu. Cocaine. Cocaine in Spokane. Cocaine’s on the wane. I would fane take cocaine. in the rain.

Ambulatory.

blp
06-03-2009, 08:19 PM
Anger eating idiots

Manager going greedy guts finding nobody eating nothing saying stop
**** off figure active. Folks your folk wisdom fixture ****er fake fact finder
Feed me. Fed up. Chipmunk dungheap dotage doldrums demon detail dagwood *******.
Ship off for fancy world. Fealty failure. Ferocious Ed. Hi, Ed. Ed is saying, Hi.

Changeling mountebank depository trash heap happenstance globe bolus.
Feely wheely failure derailer. Drop worthy ants pants toblerone copper coping candy cobble.
Old Shep. His ship is shopped. Chip chop chip chop top cop pop stop hop whop.
I meant Mindy is money mongering for mainly misty musical material.
I made maybe by a matchstick for a happy chick with nautical aerials.
I did it. I only did it to annoy you. I got sick just to pick at sticks. I thick. I rick a nick.
Find feeling folding upper tupper cupper hupper bupper. Peepo keepo coppo hoppo
Harop belabop candicop randichop. Chimean anstance devolve rover ever dever.
Lever lover cover caver hover reverb ever never. Joinery of devoinery. Moanly goanly.
Glad rad dad bad sad fad.
Chamonix chimney chip shop chop suey sandwich bluey bloater.

Ugly bugs. Dumb dippy kids. Silly childs. Stupid burps. Flops. Losers. Angry pants.

I will ruin you. Motor ventricles. Candy pads. Dick stops. You over-eaters. You got a pog. You’re problematic.
You’re stupid.
I mean I on the other hand. I said it when I did it and I got it by a big bit. I’m like
Yes, fine, chinny up your ham sandwich chip shop chimney pot poltroon toblerone baggage
Completely. I mean it. If it this if this is if this is what you eat when you’re not looking at pictures.
If this is what you deliver when people aren’t eating. If, I say. I mean it. If I didn’t get a house boon.
If there wasn’t any candy left. If it was all only about you. Yes. Well, Cheap, I say. And I don’t buy it.

alakungfu
06-05-2009, 03:51 PM
Conscience en panache

Two-faced and unabashed

The gall of a smug self-entourage

That pinches the witness

And his sense of fitness

And profits him in newfound “it”ness.


What can be more cunning

More indefensibly stunning

And as indefatigably funning

Than a quality control

Of a nattering session toll

Where the static atmosphere can loll


And accrue around each guest,

Put stale gossip to rest,

Prone for spice and vigour to ingest

And make a dialogue

That translates to demagogue

From an ephemeral bog.


The murky cool of pride

Overwhelms the risk inside

Before a chance has died

And been justly squared away

In return of the day,

In obtrusive array,


And remarks the pause

Of the commoners’ natural awes

As he wends through their laws

Enjoying his own company,

Ignoring the staunch litany

Of peripheral prices and their tyranny.

blp
06-11-2009, 10:18 AM
Nice one, that last one, alakungfu.

alakungfu
06-12-2009, 02:28 PM
Thanks blp.

Amana
06-12-2009, 03:16 PM
I know it should be our work
But English is not my original language
So I ll get a hammer, and a fork
Go sit in the garage
Grunt and utter like an Ork
And throw you this garbage.

But, to save my neck
I also throw you
This one which is a heck
And surely is not written by Larry, Curly and Moe:

Ladies and Gentlemen, Edgar Alan Poe.

---------------------------------------
*Fill here with the best Poe you know.
(my original choice was Annabel Lee )
:D

Amana
06-12-2009, 03:22 PM
Bat.
Two chickens are walking on a street
and a bat suddenly fell at their feet.

But.
They chuckle swingle rumble
Oh mighty Chi-cken they mumble

Bit.
Take care of your birds
a bit because we're not thirds

Bet.
Laid a wager on who would win
or regret our ethernal sin

Bot.
At night we'll be flying rats
just not to lose the mot.
:crash:

alakungfu
06-13-2009, 12:42 PM
Once upon a cad

a miscreant called

a scoundrel’s bluff

hemming in the villain

in his own reprobate trail

making a rebel

of the malefactor

when the criminal turned and ran

leaving the offender

the suspected fugitive.

blp
06-15-2009, 06:34 PM
It was ugly when they
threw out the cutlery
after the burglary.