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Lokasenna
06-10-2014, 08:21 AM
Back by popular demand, it's the second iteration of the Avant-Garde Poetry Contest.

First thing you'll notice is that I'm neither Qimissung or HCabret - this isn't a coup d'etat, I'm just helping out as the latter doesn't seem to be around much and the former is rather over-worked!

There have been a few questions in the other thread about what exactly is meant by 'avant-garde' - I myself sought qualification. According to the OED, the 'avant-garde' are the 'pioneers or innovators in any art in a particular period' - so the challenge here is to be exciting, different and experimental with your poetry. Go on, live a little and be radical!

In the last thread some people also requested a theme for the contest. In view of the experimental nature of the thing, I don't want to stifle anybody - so let's say the theme of this contest is 'Communities and Individuals', which you can interpret as broadly as you like.

Let's have a notional deadline of the 25 June - two weeks from tomorrow.

Post away, you lovely creative types!

YesNo
06-10-2014, 08:42 AM
1

I thought that I would never see
Avant-garde ****ing poetry.

Mary had a little bard
Who when he went went avant-garde.

2

And that's when Alice wanted to know when
I was going to grow up and she apologized
for giving me the arsenic even though it was
only imaginary arsenic and then she started
crying because she wasn't real any more than
that arsenic and that's why she acted the way
she did and I told her 'It's OK' because what
else was I going to say and then I told her that
even atoms were almost all empty space, nothing
there, and she said, 'Really?' and I said 'Sure'
and then she wanted to know about that tiny stuff
in the middle of the atom and she started to cry
again and I had to tell her that when that stuff
was a wave of potentiality it wasn't there any
more than she was and she said, 'Really?' and
I had to think because I didn't want to lie to
her and I didn't want her to start crying again
and as far as I could tell she was more real
than any old atom was and so I said 'Sure'.

Pendragon
06-12-2014, 08:13 AM
In a Group of Angels, One Devil

It takes a village to raise a child
But only one villain to destroy life
Families can blend and extend their borders
But a black sheep will inevitably show
Famous families have infamous members
Some change their names to avoid the stigma
The poorest of the poor have individuals that even they cannot harbor
Every barrel of apples has at least one rotten
So fix it, forget it, or fake your way through things
Lest a battle be lost for want of a horseshoe nail

Pendragon
(C) 6/12/2014

Lokasenna
06-16-2014, 05:28 AM
Two excellent entries so far!

...but let's keep them coming! Nine days to go until the deadline.

mal4mac
06-16-2014, 10:21 AM
110110010
001001110
100100
011100
100110010

DieterM
06-16-2014, 10:59 AM
Dere’s now Lue come a-walkin
down da street in’er torn leggin’s
all wobbly an’ bloody dumb b itch in’t she
oar block’s bloatedest ratchet an’
dressed up likuh reel thot she is
eyes locked on’er Blackberry
cuz that Jer ‘my-bloke with the like hugest nob in town
jis’ texted and told’er ‘Mirin ya for edges,
care for a kiss bae lass?’
And Lue she thinkin’, ‘Jeez a kiss,
oh yeah BFD!’ And she textin’ back,
‘F uck you hashtag SWAG’,
and then she steppin’ in some
reel dogs hit an’ screamin’
an’ the pusswat from next door
yellin’ outta window ‘Oy, piss o’’, y’ugly b itch!’

Lokasenna
06-23-2014, 04:36 AM
Things are going very well - another two great entries, bringing our total up to four now! For anyone else who wants to take part, there's still another two days - so get writing!

mal4mac
06-23-2014, 09:38 AM
Bernstein’s Dysraphism Dissipated

Condominium conceals carnage - clowns
brought the slaughter home. Traced
by fairies, hacked by anchorites,
the nightmare tree hops over three hops, two
hops, then flops. “In those days you could whisper
and still be expressive.” Silently
the sandy soil is slapped, the sorrows rebranded.
A fleet of fairies, forever remarrying.
Fighting men know what the show folks don’t,
how to win the war without making a show.

mal4mac
06-23-2014, 10:31 AM
Some help with hard words going in (how avant-garde is that!):

pill - a tedious or unpleasant person.
Dyfed - Welsh county.

Dyfed Rock Festival Encountered by Accident

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of drunken Dyfed pills;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the slime that shines
And twinkles on the dirty docks,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
Dylan Thomas would be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What damage to me all this had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bane of solitude;
And then my heart with horror fills,
And dances with the Dyfed pills.

Lokasenna
06-23-2014, 05:45 PM
Excellent stuff, Mal!

As a point of order, though, in the last contest Qimi had a one-poem-per-entrant rule for the contest, and I think we probably ought to stick with that rule. By all means leave your poems up here (I'm happy to give my thoughts on all of them when the contest ends), but would you care to nominate one of them to be your 'official' entry for the purposes of deciding the winner?

Lykren
06-23-2014, 08:09 PM
Junk:

Junkyard. White light,
moon-light. You
drag string
across the depths.

Recaptured. The dominant
force is exhalation.
That of tense,
oblivious gods

lasting
through waves
like pistols. Borne
efficiently into quiet houses.

mal4mac
06-24-2014, 06:02 AM
Rules.
Were meant to be broken.

??Choosing??

Boo. Hiss. Call the security guards. Kick the drunk off stage.

Nice hat!

Compliments don't work on me mate, it's a cold bath for you.

Melanie
06-24-2014, 11:14 AM
Compliments don't work on me mate, it's a cold bath for you.
I don't know you well enough so I have to ask…you're joking, right?

cacian
06-24-2014, 12:43 PM
individualism
inspects
life
with a hygiene mask
and it becomes a task
the importance
is to be seen
pass and above
the norms
to a power crawl
the conduct of the small
the laws applicate to suffocate
and the rest syndicate
to erradicate
abdicate
expectations fall
and the basics
spoil
and you and I toil
failure a score
democracy is a bore,
society
compacts
to run
it is
a matriarch
there is no cermony without
a patriarch
let's run it with a mark
no need to bark.

tailor STATELY
06-24-2014, 01:17 PM
Headlines: How to Keep Your Brain Young

FBI targets pimps, rescues 168 children
Lightning knocks guy out of boots
11-foot gator gives man 80 stitches
'This isn't a trip to Disneyland' (http://www.cnn.com/2014/06/20/us/immigration-tucson-bus-station-scenes/index.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+rss%2Fcnn_topstories+%28RSS%3 A+Top+Stories%29)


6/24/2014 r.7/8/2014

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

Lokasenna
06-25-2014, 12:39 PM
Right, the deadline is up and we’ve had a really impressive turnout. I will now put on my official judge’s hat (which looks suspiciously like the hat in the picture to the left), and give my thoughts on each poem before declaring a winner - whose prize, such as it is, is to liaise with Qimi about organising the next contest.

Without further ado...

YesNo, Individuals Avant-garding the Community: This poem is a clever two-parter, and I like how the two parts balance each other out in a number of ways: one is short and the other long, one uses (and perhaps apes) standard form and language whilst the other defies them, one is humorously callous and the other endearing. Stream-of-consciousness can be difficult, but I felt you handled it very well in the second part - there was never any sense that you were losing control. The nursery motif, with references to Mary and a figure with at least a passing resemblance to Carroll’s Alice, is intriguing: the greater world beyond the poem is hinted at, and there is a sense of progression from a state of innocence to experience. The voice of the first poem, expressing cynicism through the medium of a nursery rhyme whilst implicitly longing for that earlier and more traditional time through its disparaging of new poetic forms, is an excellent counterpart to Alice, who teeters on the brink of self-awareness but ultimately finds comfort in an old lie of the imagination. She, after all, still lives in a world where the imagination still has meaning - hence her rather sweet concern over the imaginary arsenic. Overall, a very successful poem.

Pendragon, In a Group of Angels, One Devil: An interesting piece that I felt celebrated conventional forms, even while flouting them. The aphoristic nature of the poem, with its reworking of many folk maxims, harks to traditional styles - but I get the impression that this is a sort of camouflage for a more serious, and certainly more contemporary, point. These aphorisms all serve to single out the one from the many, the single rotten apple from all the good ones - I get the sense that this is a poem about victimisation, how so-called traditional values and wisdom seem to find a scapegoat for the failings of the many, and how that scapegoat is depersonalised through the use of these folk clichés. From a linguistic point of view, I also really enjoyed your use of assonance, consonance and half-rhyme (villain/village, blend/extend, sheep/show etc.).

mal4mac: Well, if you can’t be anarchistic in an avant-garde poetry contest, when can you be? However, in the interests of fair competition I can only allow one poem to be officially entered - and as you declined to nominate one, I must simply accept your first entry (10111011) as your official one. I will, however, pass comment on the others.

10111011: I suppose that to not even use letters is, in its own way, a rather avant-garde approach! I did copy-paste this into a binary-to-English translator, but sadly without success. The poem, then, becomes a blank canvas on which the reader imposes their own meaning - one that, in its reduction to binary, takes on a mechanical/simplistic overtone.

Bernstein’s Dysraphism Dissipated: I thought this was the best of your three poems. The shambolic, nightmarish imagery of its first half gives way to a more elegiac sentiment in the second half, all pivoting around that central piece of direct speech - it’s very effective. It seems to me to be tapping into ideas of madness - the strange figures and their stranger actions, all of which semi-connect.

Dyfed Rock Festival Encountered by Accident: An amusing parody of Wordsworth, though not perhaps as avant-garde as some of the other pieces on display here. Still, I enjoyed the humour of it, even if there is perhaps a little too much of the original poem intact for it to be a truly accomplished parody. I also had no idea there was a rock festival anywhere in Dyfed!

DieterM, Jis anuvva summah evenin’: I felt this was a really experimental piece of poetry, and that you succeeded beautifully with it. The crassness of the language is all the more effective when compared with the eloquence of traditional poetry, which the shape of the poem hints at. The obscene text message is a beautifully distorted image of the love poem, the genre this seems to be aping - its romantic qualities seem to me emphasised by the title as well. That the ‘composition’ of this text/poem literally ends up mired in the sh*t, with abuse hurled by the neighbour, seems to me to be a very funny deconstruction of the idealised female and the art done in her name. Overall, wickedly funny and totally convincing.

Lykren, Junk: There’s some really startling imagery here, and you convey it really well - the terse, economical lines of the poem lose nothing in being so. You paint a really effective tableau of hard light, and small but deliberate movements - I was strongly reminded of De la Mare’s Silver. The second stanza stood out with particular force for me, particularly the idea of exhalation - the whole poem feels like an exhalation, a tense breath of something into cold air. If I have to fault anything, it’s the word ‘pistols’, which I don’t quite get in this context (not least because they don’t come in waves) - for whatever reason, it struck me as a wrong note in a poem that otherwise carried me with conviction.

cacian, failure to ornate societies's waste: Cacian knows of old that I’m not a huge fan of her poetry, and I would be lying if I said this piece had any different effect on me. That said, in its loose use of language, form, and expression it is definitely avant-garde in its own way. The stream-of-consciousness approach leaves the images in confusion, but I suspect that is the intention - through the constant, if fleeting, focus on aspects or institutions of society (norms, laws, democracy, ceremony), and the repetitive quality of the sound, you give the impression of a world slowly falling from order into chaos. In that regard, it is an effective poem.

tailor STATELY, Headlines: How to Keep Your Brain Young: I’ve often said that short poems can be just as, if not more, effective than long ones - and I think this piece demonstrates that admirably. In four lines you satirise (or at least I get the impression that you do) the idea of rolling news, and the media’s compartmentalisation of events. The alternation between the serious and the banal is well done - particularly the contrast between the first and final line. The idea of the horror of kids in bondage juxtaposed with some piece of pap about Disneyland is wickedly amusing. I would be interested to know whether this is an example of found poetry - are these real headlines you found, or did you make them up yourself?

Well, those are my thoughts - I hope no one is terribly offended if I’ve managed to grasp the wrong end of the proverbial stick with regard to the meaning of the poem. It’s been delightful to read all these poems, and spend time thinking about them. This has been a very close competition, and picking one winner is not an easy task. However, I am delighted to announce that the winner is...

YesNo!

Very well done to you, and to all the entrants. I look forward to the next competition.

Loka

Lykren
06-25-2014, 03:35 PM
Congratulations YesNo!

cacian
06-25-2014, 03:45 PM
than Loka and I appreciate your honesty and thank you for the feedback. and on time. :)
YesNo comgratulations and a great piece indeed.

PeterL
06-25-2014, 05:20 PM
I think that 10111011's thing is more adant garde than the others, but it appears that that is not the most relevant criterion.

tailor STATELY
06-25-2014, 08:18 PM
Congrats YesNo !

Yes. Actual Headlines from the day of the poem 6/24 as written on a news feed. If one googles 'This isn't a trip to Disneyland' (within the requisite news cycle of coarse (sic) ) one gets this link: http://www.cnn.com/2014/06/20/us/immigration-tucson-bus-station-scenes/ which cites a CNN newsy:

Crossroads of hope and fear: Stories from a desert bus station
By Catherine E. Shoichet, CNN
updated 12:17 PM EDT, Sat June 21, 2014

A mother and daughter lean against the bus station wall, huddled together under a cream-colored blanket. Their eyes droop as exhaustion sets in.
They spent the past few days in detention, and Ana Maria worries about what the future holds.
But even as questions swirl in her head, this 28-year-old mother says one thing is certain: "I do not want to go back to Guatemala."
It's been three years since she last saw her husband, who works in a restaurant in Portland, Oregon. Now he's just three bus rides and 34 hours away.
She's excited to bring her family back together, find a job that pays well and watch her 10-year-old daughter Greisy succeed in school.
"We came here," she says, "to fight."
Ana Maria and Greisy are part of a surge of mothers and children from Central America who authorities say are illegally crossing the border into the United States.

... and more including an audio component (unfortunately). Another human tragedy in parallel with L1 with the agreed banal in L2 & L3.

Part of the title is also from a news feed I thought to allude to a return to innocence.

I agree with most of your critiques and found them quite well thought out. Personally, I thought cacian would have an unfair advantage over most of us.

Addendum 7/8/2014: Added link to L4 'This isn't a trip to Disneyland' part of poem to help w/ poems context (link appears to be still active within the news cycle).

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

YesNo
06-26-2014, 12:07 AM
Thank you, Lokasenna! Your comments raised the bar on what a judge should do in these contests. I enjoyed all the other entries and, like PeterL, I thought mal4mac had it wrapped up with "10111011" after I first saw that even though I couldn't read it.

I assume I can continue the next contest in this thread so they are all together.

Two weeks from now is July 8th. That will be the deadline.

I remember in some post somewhere you mentioned liking narrative, Lokasenna, so that will be the next theme. Something narrative and avant-garde.

Pendragon
06-26-2014, 06:41 AM
Letter To The Editor

Dear Ms:

About that last rejection slip I received from you—?
Concerning a submission I have resent—
At your own personal request, mind—
For the third time now?
Yo, now a rejection slip is no big deal—
A beginner like myself is gonna received his due share—
I do, however, object to your explanations for rejection.
First it was “Sorry, but ‘time’ and ‘time’ do not rhyme.”
Had your hearing checked recently, by a good doctor?
Many poets would definitely disagree with you—
Notably Edward Lear who popularized the limerick as poetry!
Or Edgar Alan Poe who makes the incredible attempt
To rhyme “enchanted” with “haunted” and “daunted” in The Raven?
Well, I fixed that—although I felt it hurt the poem—and resubmitted.
This time it was: “Our Northern readers will have problems with
Your use of Southern dialect and spitting as humor.”
God forbid they ever read Mark Twain, Langston Hughes, or J.W. Riley!
And how about Finley Peter Dunne’s Mr. Dooley?
Not to mention Lewis Carroll and Ogden Nash—
When they couldn’t find a word, they invented one on the spot!
What I’m trying to say is this:
They’ll still be reading Edward Lear when you are very old.
They will still chant The Raven long after you have passed away.
While your corpse decays beneath the soil,
They will still read Twain, Hughes, and J.W. Riley.
People will still laugh at the antics of Finley Peter Dunne,
When your petrified skull is labeled on a museum shelf.
Lewis Carroll and Ogden Nash will still be quoted,
Even as your marble headstone crumbles into dust.
And if my poetry isn’t still around at that time,
It will not be because I failed to imitate those that went before me…
That’s right.

Have a great time in your little world—
D. L. Harris

qimissung
06-27-2014, 10:18 AM
Just have to say congrats to yes no and all the entrants for an excellent round of poetry. A lot of good energy there, and some good reading, too!

YesNo
06-27-2014, 11:43 AM
Thanks, qimissung! And thanks for the first entry, Pendragon.

Now we need more entries. It's avant-garde. It can't be all that hard, but what do I know.

Lokasenna
06-27-2014, 11:50 AM
Excellent stuff! I probably won't have anything ready to submit by the deadline (moving house starting today!), but I'll keep a keen and interested eye on things.

cacian
07-05-2014, 06:20 AM
YesNo could you post one as an example.
I think it is a good idea to show what you mean by narrative avant-garde :)

YesNo
07-05-2014, 09:49 AM
I'll try to make up something over the weekend, but I was hoping the real avant-garde would show us how it's done. If I don't come up with something, Pendragon's poem works as both narrative and avant-garde as far as I can tell.

PeterL
07-05-2014, 11:27 AM
I'll try to make up something over the weekend, but I was hoping the real avant-garde would show us how it's done. If I don't come up with something, Pendragon's poem works as both narrative and avant-garde as far as I can tell.

You'll wait forever, if you wait for the avant garde, because they are always way out there in front.

YesNo
07-05-2014, 11:49 AM
Don't worry. I won't wait for them to catch up. :)

YesNo
07-05-2014, 09:18 PM
I see that WolfLarsen has submitted an entry to the contest in a separate thread. Thanks!

Here is the link: http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?79445-Capitalism-Versus-Great-Literature&p=1264623#post1264623

cacian
07-06-2014, 06:16 AM
I see that WolfLarsen has submitted an entry to the contest in a separate thread. Thanks!

Here is the link: http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?79445-Capitalism-Versus-Great-Literature&p=1264623#post1264623

I went to there.
the only thing is the word 'narrative' I don't like narrative.
may be I misunderstand it.
a narrative tries and tell someone's life right?
avant garde is unhabitual exaggerate does not fit the norms??

YesNo
07-06-2014, 07:49 AM
You're right about narrative. I suppose a narrative tells a story of some kind, but since it is avant-garde also that might add in a certain anarchistic aspect to whatever rules are presented.

illiterati
07-08-2014, 12:30 PM
ok--i'll enter "comeback album"

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BweCCve6rs1xb1p6TERwZzU5eVk/edit?usp=sharing

(srry--i don't like the poems to be indexed on google)

-M

Pope of Eruke
07-08-2014, 12:36 PM
ok--i'll enter "comeback album"

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BweCCve6rs1xb1p6TERwZzU5eVk/edit?usp=sharing

(srry--i don't like the poems to be indexed on google)

-M

Haha I like it!

YesNo
07-08-2014, 05:01 PM
Thanks, illiterati!

Pope of Eruke, do you have an avant-garde poem for the contest? This contest could use more of them.

mal4mac
07-12-2014, 11:33 AM
Just put all your sentences on new lines.
Then you will always be writing poetry.
And that would be avant-garde.
I think.
At least I've never heard of anyone else doing that.
It would be a new thing in the world.
I'm not going to be doing this.
So you can have that idea for free.
Go run with it.

Pope of Eruke
07-12-2014, 11:46 AM
Thanks, illiterati!

Pope of Eruke, do you have an avant-garde poem for the contest? This contest could use more of them.

I do not I am afraid

YesNo
07-13-2014, 10:21 AM
I thought the deadline was July13th, but it was actually July 8th, so I guess I better decide who the winner is now. I'm not going to be as good at this as Lokasenna since I don't know what I'm doing and like Pope of Eruke I am also, deep in some unexplored corner, afraid of getting my butt kicked for not picking the right one.

Pendragon: I could feel the power at the end when the editor was informed that whoever was here would be reading the Raven long after her corpse decayed and especially "long after her petrified skull is labeled on a museum shelf". I'm going to have to remember that line in time of need. It could well be that the true avant-garde is derriere-garde (or whatever the French is for that) since everyone seems to be avant-garde today. How can everyone be avant-garde? I enjoyed how you told her off.

WolfLarsen: Thank you so much for submitting the "word-orgasm". The second entry makes it a contest. I don't want to scare you, but my theory of poetry (what little there is of it) does see poetry starting at the sexual level and so a word orgasm makes sense to me. It also doesn't have to go to any higher ground. I liked the third alternate title the best: "How I Lost My Virginity to a Buzzing Inanimate Object" I see the words as the narrative of the orgasm just to make sure it fit the theme.

illiterati: The first line was a great starter and got my interest right away. One of the problems with avant-garde poetry, as I see it, is that the reader too quickly loses interest because of the avant-garde incongruities often seen as dense as a line of mathematics and as likely to be skipped over. Some phrases stand out for me like the one where the guests are secretly sold stale food for free by the giant. The incongruity of the parts match the incongruity of the whole where the point is to make those who snubbed the artist earlier jealous even though the artist is now dead. It seems to be a truthful expression of the lengths some people might go to to get even if they could. Nice.

mal4mac: That does seem to be one way to formally put in those useless poetic line breaks. However, that's a rule that some avant-garde poet will want to break. I'm going to have to remember this and call it the mal4mac poetic form with the only formal constraint being that each line is one sentence long.

---------------------------------------

I wish you could all win, but you can't. Look at it like this. If you win this contest, in exchange for all the fame you have to post a theme for the next contest and judge it.

So at this point, I hereby pronounce the winner of the third Lit Net Avant-Garde Poetry Contest to be WolfLarsen!

Congratulations!

WolfLarsen
07-14-2014, 01:09 PM
YIppeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Yahoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

So yippe yahoo it's time for the third avant-garde poetry contest or is it the fourth?
Here are the rules:
1) Have fun! Have as much fun as you can!
2) Do whatever you want! Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
3) Actually, there is one rule. No rhymes! I'm just not masochistic enough for that!

There will be two winners. The real winner will be the person who has the most fun writing the most bizarre poem they have ever written in their life. Then there will be the winner announced by that Wolf Larsen character. To hell with him! You think you got it bad – I have to spend all day with Wolf Larsen!

Anyway, there have been many questions as to what avant-garde poetry is. For the sake of this contest avant-garde poetry is whatever you think it is. Just write the most bizarre poem you can – and have lots of fun doing it!

Feel free to tell everybody in the world about this contest where everybody can have fun writing the most bizarre poem they've ever written!

Deadline will be 15th of August, 2014.

cacian
07-14-2014, 04:08 PM
LOL Wolf you are one funny guy haha this made me laugh.:lol:
I like the idea of TWO winners. :thumbsup:

YesNo
07-14-2014, 07:26 PM
I.
will.
not.
write.
love.
sick.
po.
e.
try.
when.
in.
Ms.
Luv.
lie’s.
phy.
sics.
class.

Pendragon
07-15-2014, 05:37 AM
Congrats, Wolf! And YesNo, I did actually send her this very letter! <3

YesNo
07-15-2014, 07:44 AM
That was a great letter, Pendragon! The fact that you actually sent it to someone makes it even more delightful. I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did.

Lykren
07-16-2014, 05:31 PM
I'll compete too.

Winds heave, we collapse
into melody - a ruined sound
hanging from invisible hands

the unchallenged drift
of a dry river

my memories course against
my skin, they live
in that nude stream

approached by weather incompatible
with anyone but itself,
carefully disrobing.

HCabret
07-26-2014, 12:25 AM
Prelude - The wonderful, awkward adolescence of Penelope Silence and her books (feat. THE almighty Philip p Stone) (number eight) (intro)

My mothers always told me to always wash my
hands and pray for better days; honey dippin' smoke
and the internet; y'all can say anything here.
I did it all for love and my best friend; i love
being sad and feeling alive; i wish i had
something to say and i wish i had a belt so
my pants would stop falling down to crewcut skinhead
underground ska; playing records in battle for
those hipster girls; i love you Lucy and your
diamonds, lets fly! Ten minutes later: blackout school
catharsis; (saxophone plays here); think right, do right.


Relude - Penelope Silence and the Pseudo-intellectual Symphony Orchestra (i am smarter than you are) (skit)

Tell me the ways of the world, oh wise man of
individual collectivity; be who
you are, but only the way i tell you to be.
Go and read EIGHT, but don't tell anyone; keep it
quiet; i think he's a terrorist, but only
because he's black; how can the worker survive if
only to serve others? Tell me Wolf, who are you?
INDIVIDUALISM! COMMUNISM! Which
is it? Advantage Gardening in the daytime
or sun shining down on those who are; turn back
and forth, rocking on a chair and rolling down a
mountain chasing gold only sought after by fools.
One day the world will finally go mad and then
only memory will serve to preserve the old
sanity of the past age; i need others to
tell me what to think, but only because its in
the Bible or in the Koran or the Pali
Canon; Mohammed sure could self-publish! But then
again i don't know anything for any grand
certainty except that i am me and you aren't.
(insert sax solo at the end for no reason)


I - The infamous pure fiction of Penelope Silence: first movement

Rails of naked bodies lined up against
a wall of wine bottles shooting orange dots falling
off a horse running into a collage of french
skeletons sharing the bare nipples of a nun
with red hair sipping his evening soup and watching
a tour of eyes, fast cars and fake hair; like a blank
miracle, building the eighth tune to please the blue
conception of a being floating superbian
religion, which says anything about the pains
of being Eliot Cuff and trying to write
a looming super honest modern creation.
Jumping off a chair into broken glass covered
in white skin, frosting and the image of a small
erection rising and falling to the waves of
a soft viola playing over the crowds stood
together violently constructing a building
held together by the smooth feeling of human
feces running down the face of a soldier who
fought on the beaches of Gernika wretched in the
chaos of existence; tomorrow? tomorrow!
Burning strings, lost children and genocide coming
tomorrow to kill a dead mouse holding a full
hand of Venetian canals stuck in a barn made
of doors crying to a choir of extremely
sane elegance rotating in a similar
direction fictionalizing philosophy.


II - The complete and relaxed ideas of Penelope Silence and her cat Vincent (incomplete)

Electric belleville Madeleine caught in the barbed
emptiness of Commerce, Texas; roman temple
hit running between Mississippi and the good
city of Chicago; tonight the shotgun queen's
birthday/wedding/funeral and emporium; a
movie star's sexual desire for more new
antique pianos playing nothing for all to
hear sitting in their graves high above the flowers
scattering the concrete beliefs of a catholic
priest conflicted by her love of God and romance
novels involving CIA conspiracies
taught to children enslaved in the once upon a
time of family vacations; i love you flying
bicycles over concrete better than any
car or anyone else; France's and the England
raining up a yellow wall sat behind a ginge
and her funny faces; that f u c king folk music!


II.5 - The good intentions of Penelope Silence concerning an ex-convict wandering the suburbs (interlude) (that's love)

A dark oblivion diving into a white
city of cathedrals and coke bottles spewing
hatred for those who are different irregardless
of the houses built on cliffsides driven by old
people who don't let their right hand know what their left
hand is doing; I'm circling trees blown away
by hurricanes after drowning in a bubbler.


III - The long and eternally endless odyssey of Penelope Silence, her cat Vincent and the City of Chicago, Illinois: final movement

I've worked at a Cracker Barrel for fifteen years,
not counting that one month in 1994 when
I got lost in the midst of my ex-girlfriend's
endless red hairy nipples and that other time
when i did not leave my apartment except to
publicly masturbate occasionally and
to s h i t on the front porch of this prick insurance
agent who used to live across the street from my
great grandmother; I would read more often, but I
am a red balloon caught in an apple tree with
nothing to do but hum heavy metal songs to
myself and wait for the firetrucks to show up
to this party with farm animals and some
strippers, hopefully; fingers crossed; don't fly away
without calling home first to tell your mother how
much you love and appreciate her; in a black
and white suit carrying little green bags full of
mister Pink's diamonds; tell me where i went wrong in
my life and i will do anything i can to
fix it and go back to working at Cracker Barrel.


IV - Penelope Silence No. 4

Sexualizing the journey of a taxi
cab in the middle of the night by vomiting
through the hole in the bottom of the car ending
up wearing someone else's clothes and in someone
else's bed; Albert Einstein walks through a cat door
stepping over an obese woman covered in
sheets biting the ear of a whale washed up on
shore next to a diver; office space religion.
Sitting in church with panda bears smoking bongs for
Jesus circling the unseen, but starving art
of a Klingon prostitute paid for by the Koch
Brothers and viewers like you; tennis in the street
played by Doctor London and his all transvestite
brass band; I'm afraid that the muppets will follow
through with their threats to revolt and replace our state
with the state of liquid matter in time for the rain.


V - Penelope Silence's last will and testament (number five) (skit)

I love kissing you under the bleachers, but it's
only because of your cute mind; i do hereby
bequeath my entire collection of eight tracks
to my good friends on my family tree and to those
nights i crave taco bell in the morning after
feeling bitter about twitter and trying to
get rid of these headaches i hate; and moving on
towards the end of this tunnel that seems to end in
the middle of the movie; i can never get
enough of Emma Watson; one of my favorite
hipster girls; all dried up in the desert sun
with somewhere to go and carry on with my life
in another state; Chicago in May; we used
to go to Navy Pier in the summer before
we grew up and left to write our own most tragic
comedies including embarrassment and some
confusing lustful feelings for that other girl.


VI - Symphony No. 25 in 6 Minor (Penelope Silence cover)

Don't buy in subtitles; we only speak in engrish
in this country; and we love the feel of a fresh
santorum on a sunny november morne; come
home already, i cant deal with you being
away from me without your trumpets sounding the
end of times; I've got tree huggers following me
around my head and into the house; dirty socks.


VII - Penelope Silence's opinion concerning the annexation of Zone C

A hive full of latex caught in a room full of
atheists; #ilostmymollie; a world full
of first world problems and indifference for
East Timor; Venetian gondolas cruising down
the Avenue des Champs-Elysees on a cold
winter's day in July; only love is on the
move and she is only the moon; i finally watched
City Lights; beauty in cinema; party like
its 1931 and you cant see the one
you love; give flowers to those you care about and
to those you don't; a beautiful white haired girl
from Wales and a temperamental girl from
Chicago fall together on top of an old
Volkswagen van; tell me when it's all over cuz
i would very much like to visit Bethlehem.


VIII - Penelope Silence reads EIGHT out loud to the Republican National Convention

Oh babe, come back here and tell me
the story of that town Eight, West
Virginia; the one named Django
pulling his own coffin down the
snowy middle way hoping to
find a pot of gold; caught in a
storm of blue sickness without an
eight fold path showing the way home.


IX - Penelope Silence yells at the top of her lungs and then dives head first into the OCEAN

I wrote this in my hand to the sparks in the sky
so i could see a candle blow out; there's magic
in everyday objects which only we can see.
Floor beats and vacuums on Grafton Street played only
once on that misty summer morning; sun shining
through the clouds, the bluest sky I've ever seen in
my life, or possibly ever; i will live for
an eternity; i refuse to let death come
and follow me through the Waste seeking what he can't
ever have; i am a spirit on fire with
eyes that can see through air and forever into
the nighttime seeking out the fallen mountain town.


X - a Concerto for Piano: Penelope Silence runs home to Ithaca to make popcorn

Every time you undress me i run home to look
up at the sky and wonder what went so wrong that
i couldn't find my way somewhere on the avenue.
Sirens in the night, trains rolling over tracks from
the midwest; a space odyssey at the end of
the world in Turkey riding a wooden horse
into the city; blind poets writing for you
to hopefully one day learn from the myths of the
past and pray to pagan angels at the feet of
Johnny Hamlet's kitchen and Joan Arkin's bible.
Tell me all you know about spaghetti and dirt,
for when the great silence fall over the land and
Aeneas finds his new city on seven hills
a new world will begin and forever change
the course from nine wholes to eighteen; maybe with this
new start humanity can go back to the lake
Victoria with pieces distance never dreamt.


XI - Enkidu sings a song about Penelope Silence - acoustic

Gold man walking through the desert to rescue Han
from his carbonite prison to end up bringing
down the empire built by King Gilgamesh in
land between two rivers; a paradise in the
east of eden where language began on the top
of the tower being built towards heaven; this is
Alexander's resting place; pilgrims come from all
over each on their adventures toward the Aldgate
and soon to Canterbury; a Miller's tale
of beer and Harley's; tell me a story and i
will hold you still and show you the grave of the great
bard resting on the Avon; a hero journeys
to the end of the story to find what the
Krabby Patty secret formula is finally.


XII - Roman Carnival Overture - Penelope Silence takes in a panorama of the south of France from atop a moving train

Dreaming a wicked nightmare of the Tsar and
his cortege at Versailles while sleeping face down
on Fashion street pretending to be a new weird
american solitary whale working
on a wizard farm in the lonely Nebraskan
depression; turning the other cheek is not an
act of submissiveness, but instead an act of
disobedience, which would make Eve proud of all
those who came after her; for creativity
is an absolute and nothing is off limits,
not even rhyming; do not ever take the bait
in front of your face, which leads to the worst of hate.


XIII - Penelope Silence live at Red Rocks (studio version)

Treat yo mamma with respect, don't drag her down a
ragged mile, but a Magnificent Mile!
Glory to god, the original creator,
poet, painter, musician; for we are the old
melodies of creation vibrating on the
strings of pure energy which make up our minds and
our souls; god gave us a theme with which to play out
loud for all to hear in the parks built around the
universe; the role of the poet is to take
that which is old and make new; to confer onto
our new creations the melodies of creation.


XIV - Penelope Silence takes The Long Way around

A solitary explorer tacks her way through
the sea on her way to Aotearoa in the
middle of december; a vagabond on the
open ocean seeking solitude and friendship
with wrathful Neptune; a pancake is all it takes.
Pray to the wind and follow the sun because i
am happy at sea and perhaps it will save my soul.


Epilogue - Penelope Silence and Karl Marx fall at the same speed (77 rpm) - Instrumental

I hate socialism; the collective violence
of the mob doesn't shine through the clouds; thank god I'm
alive! Yesterday i became a new old soul
vegetarian while walking down the street in
the opposite way trying to decide whether
I like you or stress more, anxiety or a
depression; reflecting on the good and the bad
pieces; no reason to cry over spilt beer, there's
only spilt blood; this is the best day of my life!
Also, i hate capitalism; i want what
you have; what i cant have; happyness and upset
stomach puking vulgarities for no reason.
Even meaningless art has a deeper meaning.
Try not to choke on an Advil or fall down
the stairs and land on top of my dead cat, Vincent.
I'm Chance and I'm very, very lonely; you all
need to lose your entertaining paranoia
and undependable empty footprints stood in
bitterness and unending acid rains and thieves.


Repilouge - Penelope Silence speaks out against Chancelor Bennett (Outro) (radio edit) (blue suitcase version)

I love Drugs! I am in love with Mollie Greene who
tells me what to do *** how to speak to my friends
in downtown Des Plaines, none of whom could recite the
holy scripture thats tells people to cry for
the lonely and pray for *** lost autumn recluse
astronaut comedians from Second City.
I'm Chance and you're Penelope Silence; don't you
see or are you too blind and stuck in a cup?



I apologize for not being there at the end of the first contest. I am such an infrequent vistor here, that i completely forgot about entering the contest in the first place. I am honored by your praise and thank you. Here's a new one!

WolfLarsen
08-07-2014, 06:22 PM
I will not be able to judge this contest.

My apologies. I will not be able to judge this contest fairly, because one of the entrants into this contest has been stalking me all over this Internet site, and harassing me with endless redbaiting, even though my posts have nothing to do with politics.
Therefore, I will have to dismiss myself as judge of this contest. My apologies.

Pendragon
08-07-2014, 06:27 PM
Toss that person's poem out. They are acting unprofessionally. Judge the others. Simple, really.

qimissung
08-07-2014, 06:41 PM
Yeah, let's not be too hasty here, Wolf. The contest isn't closed yet anyway.

HCabret
08-07-2014, 07:40 PM
Toss that person's poem out. They are acting unprofessionally. Judge the others. Simple, really.i have broken no rule. To the best of knowledge, it is not against the rules of this forum to express an opinion which is critical of another member's opinion. It appears to be okay to threaten castration of other members here and/or people not members of this site, but it appears to be illegal to criticize communism/capitalism. If you don't want feedback, then don't post your work here. This is not Wolf Larsen's personal soapbox and I'm have equal right to express my opinion on any thread posted here. This is not a "professional" forum, this is for amateur literature enthusiasts. I request that Wolf Larsen's famous Castration post be deleted and I will be reporting my concerns to a moderator.

HCabret
08-07-2014, 07:43 PM
2) Do whatever you want!
I just want this to be repeated.

WolfLarsen
08-07-2014, 09:48 PM
I've been mum about certain things as much as possible. But sometimes it's important to speak out. And this is one of those times.

You know what I was just thinking: perhaps one of the reasons that there are so few entrants into an "avant-garde poetry contest" is that so many people with unique/experimental writing styles have been chased away from this literary board over the years.

Perhaps it was far worse before in some ways. But I remember being excited when I would click on some thread and find some unusual writing, but then there were certain individuals who made such hostile comments. The comments weren't even like they didn't like the writing, they were just downright mean, it was like cyber-bullying.

Many of those who contributed unique writing to this posting board left. They were made to feel unwelcome here.

I kept posting anyway, despite the cyber bullying. And some of them could get away with cyber bullying for some reason, but if you even made the comment that their behavior was ignorant, you had points taken away.

There is a difference between making a critical comment about somebody's writing, and cyber bullying. If every single person on this site were to say they don't like your writing, there's nothing wrong with that. But the cyber bullying that goes on here is at times out of control.

But anyway, I know why there is not more entrants into this avant garde poetry contest. Those people were chased away by cyber bullying.

I'm one of the few left that does not write conventionally, and kept posting here, because I have a thick skin. I've been through stuff way worse than cyber bullying.

Who knows if I'll even be a part of this posting board come August 15, which is the deadline for entries. There's so much censorship one can hardly breathe. I never know when I sign in whether I'm good to be banned or not because of the censorship. And now I've been sticking a warning before every piece of writing that could possibly make someone with a puritanical mentality uncomfortable. It's like you have to censor yourself all the time. It's disgusting. No wonder so many people who had some unique writing to contribute voted with their feet. The censorship, the cyber bullying, and now there's nobody to contribute some unique writing.

I wish I knew where all those people who contribute unique writing to this board over the years went. I would go there too.

HCabret
08-07-2014, 09:57 PM
I've been mum about certain things as much as possible. But sometimes it's important to speak out. And this is one of those times.

You know what I was just thinking: perhaps one of the reasons that there are so few entrants into an "avant-garde poetry contest" is that so many people with unique/experimental writing styles have been chased away from this literary board over the years.

Perhaps it was far worse before in some ways. But I remember being excited when I would click on some thread and find some unusual writing, but then there were certain individuals who made such hostile comments. The comments weren't even like they didn't like the writing, they were just downright mean, it was like cyber-bullying.

Many of those who contributed unique writing to this posting board left. They were made to feel unwelcome here.

I kept posting anyway, despite the cyber bullying. And some of them could get away with cyber bullying for some reason, but if you even made the comment that their behavior was ignorant, you had points taken away.

There is a difference between making a critical comment about somebody's writing, and cyber bullying. If every single person on this site were to say they don't like your writing, there's nothing wrong with that. But the cyber bullying that goes on here is at times out of control.

But anyway, I know why there is not more entrants into this avant garde poetry contest. Those people were chased away by cyber bullying.

I'm one of the few left that does not write conventionally, and kept posting here, because I have a thick skin. I've been through stuff way worse than cyber bullying.

Who knows if I'll even be a part of this posting board come August 15, which is the deadline for entries. There's so much censorship one can hardly breathe. I never know when I sign in whether I'm good to be banned or not because of the censorship. And now I've been sticking a warning before every piece of writing that could possibly make someone with a puritanical mentality uncomfortable. It's like you have to censor yourself all the time. It's disgusting. No wonder so many people who had some unique writing to contribute voted with their feet. The censorship, the cyber bullying, and now there's nobody to contribute some unique writing.

I wish I knew where all those people who contribute unique writing to this board over the years went. I would go there too.i don't want you banned. I want you to judge my poem as well as the other entrants of this contest and determine a winner. I am sorry if my comments came across as "cyber-bullying", but offence was defiantly intended and I do not take back a single letter. I don't like coercion of any sort, especially the sort that involve threats of violence.

"Do whatever you want!"

WolfLarsen
08-08-2014, 01:11 AM
i don't want you banned. I want you to judge my poem as well as the other entrants of this contest and determine a winner. I am sorry if my comments came across as "cyber-bullying", but offence was defiantly intended and I do not take back a single letter. I don't like coercion of any sort, especially the sort that involve threats of violence.

"Do whatever you want!"

Nobody's ever threatened this person.

Defamation of character

Who is this HCabaret?

I wish he would just leave me alone.

It just gets creepier and creepier.

HCabret
08-08-2014, 01:42 AM
Nobody's ever threatened this person.

Defamation of character

Who is this HCabaret?

I wish he would just leave me alone.

It just gets creepier and creepier.your poetry is creepy and so are your threats of castration. I don't know who hCabaret is either. But I heard that HCabret dude is pretty nice.

I have reported your posts threatening violence upon other people and fully intend to see that they are deleted.

8 years of this and you were taken down my me. Hahahahahahaha. You are a shame to the avant garde.

YesNo
08-08-2014, 02:17 AM
I will not be able to judge this contest.

I agree with Pendragon and qimissung. You'll be a good judge of this contest.

HCabret
08-08-2014, 02:29 AM
I agree with Pendragon and qimissung. You'll be a good judge of this contest.
I concur with this.

Pendragon
08-08-2014, 05:59 AM
your poetry is creepy and so are your threats of castration. I don't know who hCabaret is either. But I heard that HCabret dude is pretty nice.

I have reported your posts threatening violence upon other people and fully intend to see that they are deleted.

8 years of this and you were taken down my me. Hahahahahahaha. You are a shame to the avant garde.

Speaking of banning, were I a moderator you'd be gone. There's no excuse for your attitude!

qimissung
08-08-2014, 06:18 AM
Warning

Off topic or inflammatory remarks will be removed without notice. No further discussion of this topic, henceforth.

tailor STATELY
08-15-2014, 08:34 AM
The Road Not Ken: Ta !

Two Wily Lions Raged; Add Overdo Woe.
Brace Thy Void And Roll Not Torus
And Let Song To Aerie Born... Loved
Foul Kin Doodled. So Sad. Can Aeon War ?
Whir There Green Newt Thou Tot. Bind.
Fresh Jest Took Euthanasia Troth.
Angels Cheat Them In Braved Harp Pit.
Wisest Wry Dada Aurae Cast Gnawn Bees.
Fog Tethers Truth; Agape Hath His Son.
Heed Holy Alabaster Haunt Met Worm.
Godly Atabal Hymn Halt Requin Not.
Old Plinked Seventh Sonata Braced
Hot Pithy Fork; Fainthearted Rose.
Know The Snowy Wooly Nit Adage Way.
Idiot Dude Loves Ecofreak Chum Bib.
Hah ! Gilt Light Wins; Bathes Lilies.
Sages Emerge When Aeon Chased;
Raged Dada Died. In Orison Two Vow -
Nevertheless, Look ! Deity Boat !
Lead Fleet Defends Mantra Itch. Haha !............................. "And that has made all the difference" ref: http://allpoetry.com/The-Road-Not-Taken#sthash.ACk82dfc.dpuf

8/15/2014

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

WolfLarsen
08-16-2014, 12:45 PM
Thank you everyone for competing in the avant-garde poetry contest.

Well, it certainly has been interesting.

I announce the winner to be Lykren. Congratulations!

He won with the following poem:

Winds heave, we collapse
into melody - a ruined sound
hanging from invisible hands

the unchallenged drift
of a dry river

my memories course against
my skin, they live
in that nude stream

approached by weather incompatible
with anyone but itself,
carefully disrobing.

Lykren
08-16-2014, 03:08 PM
Wow! Thank you Wolf! And thanks to everyone who competed, all the poems were definitely pretty interesting and avant-garde! :)

Alright, I guess we'll continue the contest in this thread. So, the style will continue to be 'avant-garde' (a term I'll define as being "in a style unusual enough to be surprising and even shocking"), and the theme will be:

emotionless motion.

Good luck! The deadline is set to be September 16th, a month from today. I will do my best to judge it on time.

cacian
08-16-2014, 03:09 PM
what is emotionless motion?
a movement without a feeling??

Lykren
08-16-2014, 03:12 PM
That's it! But, this being a rebellious, avant-garde contest, you can really write about whatever you please.

cacian
08-16-2014, 03:41 PM
That's it! But, this being a rebellious, avant-garde contest, you can really write about whatever you please.

thank you Lykren. :)

Pendragon
08-17-2014, 06:04 AM
Emotion Motion, What a Notion...

Heartbeat of American, emotionless machine
Nightly rides the Nightmare crushing hope and dreams
A mirage in the desert, photographed and still unreal
Emotions move through motions like a carnival barker's spiel

Emotion moves within concrete canyons, chased by bogus words
Sand, fantasy, and moonbeams, shiny but unheard
The rhythm of emotion moves along a winding stream
Reflections in a mirrored glass, illusion always on the scene

Dark thoughts and darker voices, spiel of vicious hate
Tongues seared by flaming words loose all sense of taste
Animated skeletons pretending emotion sets them free
Beneath the shroud is emptiness, emotion sets its teeth

Vision blinded by bitter memory, wishing one could forget
Emotion still in motion spinning tires in slick grass
We dig our graves with our tongues, dunce cap on upon a stool
Emotion is a heartless b***h, draining life and making fools...

Pendragon
(C) 8/17/2014

Lykren
08-30-2014, 02:57 AM
We have some time left, but we need a lot more competitors, please!

YesNo
08-30-2014, 05:55 AM
Going south on I-65 north of Lowell I pointed out to Alice a billboard
with white letters on a black background reminding us that “HELL
IS REAL” but she was more interested in why I refused to put
a period in my poetry except at the very end and I told her it’s
because I didn’t want to and since I was the one writing it I could
do what I wanted and she reminded me that she was the only
one reading it and if she wanted a period every now and then I
better give her periods and she said I was making her mad and
I got the silent treatment alternated with unsilent hell and I figured
since we were on a long trip we might as well get along and so
I put one in just like this . and asked her if she was happy now.

Lykren
09-02-2014, 08:27 PM
Thanks YesNo! But we still need more.

qimissung
09-07-2014, 01:04 AM
Eh, I'll see if the spirit moves me. Although I don't think I have an avant garde bone in my body, sadly. BTW, congrats, Lykren, on winning the last contest! It was a great poem.

cacian
09-10-2014, 04:23 AM
what is avant garde
if not a bard
initiating
hard
a spin on a poet's
card?
a sudden motion
soft but
sullen
emotionless
solo
against
the torrid
devotion
of connotative
versus debilitation
words
speak
the litterateur
breach
but does not
concern
and
the message
emerge:
write as you
stir or spur
and the rest
should myrrh.

Lykren
09-16-2014, 08:17 PM
Okay, time's up! Thank you all for competing, though *ahem* I wish you more of you had. Although maybe that speaks more to my skill as an organizer than anything else. Anyways, I will now announce the winner! And the winner is

...

YesNo! Whose poem had a quiet humor to it. Thank you very much for the honor of judging, folks. Looking forward to the contest hosted by YesNo. Here is the winning poem once again:

Now:

Going south on I-65 north of Lowell I pointed out to Alice a billboard
with white letters on a black background reminding us that “HELL
IS REAL” but she was more interested in why I refused to put
a period in my poetry except at the very end and I told her it’s
because I didn’t want to and since I was the one writing it I could
do what I wanted and she reminded me that she was the only
one reading it and if she wanted a period every now and then I
better give her periods and she said I was making her mad and
I got the silent treatment alternated with unsilent hell and I figured
since we were on a long trip we might as well get along and so
I put one in just like this . and asked her if she was happy now.

qimissung
09-16-2014, 11:53 PM
Congrats, YesNo! I liked your poem.

I did write one, Lykren, I just didn't think it fit very well in this contest. I'm looking forward to the next one.

YesNo
09-17-2014, 08:25 AM
Thank you, Lykren! And thanks, qimissung!

I hesitate to add a theme, because I don't want to restrict any entries. So, any theme will do. The only requirement is that it be "avant-garde".

Deadline: October 8th, 3 weeks from now.

Delta40
09-17-2014, 07:58 PM
Ha ha. Congratulations Yes/No.

YesNo
09-18-2014, 12:11 AM
Thanks, Delta40. I think you should be able to write some pretty good avant-garde poetry, whatever avant-garde poetry is.

Pendragon
09-18-2014, 06:59 AM
Congrats. YesNo!

YesNo
09-18-2014, 08:58 AM
Thanks, Pendragon.

I wonder how to promote this competition. Maybe chanting helps: "avant-garde, avant-garde, avant-garde".

HCabret
09-28-2014, 08:05 PM
CHICAGOLAND
BY ELLIOT CUFF

I - LOLLAPALOOZA
Standing under the Bean waiting for her to come
and find me; she sits on my shoulders in front of
the stage; her voice scorched with a burning desire.
Wandering above the mist she raises her hands
to the starry night sky; a billion stars shine through
a trail that fades across the crowd into what
was once an urban apotheosis; I am
now forever lost in the barrenness of this
city; I can't help but watch this little boy
cry while riding the train on my way home; I don't
even feel bad; cream of wheat and bible study.
I wonder if that guy's a serial killer.
My home's not ****ty, but the suburbs are; Maine's not
all that far away; she has even more beauty
in the moonlight; there is no going home tonight.
Adventure is afoot; there is no sight like the
city at night from Seer's tower; no sound like at
the Warehouse; and no feeling like the one I get
when I run down your Magnificent Mile while
tripping on Mollie; come on! and feel the Illinoise!

II – THE CITY OF DESTINY
A Paris street on a rainy day looking out
over the bay in Marseilles; a little girl
and her friends spend this Sunday afternoon at the
end of summer wandering this American
city marred with gothic beauty unlike any
other in the world; an old guitarist sits
in his red armchair playing the blues that built this city.
Looking out at the lake I can’t help but get lost
in the waves I found you in; while I met you in
London my mind will always be here; you really
piss me off sometimes, but I love you all the same.
I know you love another more, but you're all I
think about; you have a soulful fire burning
within and music playing endlessly in your
head; I worry that you won’t find your way home but
Maine's not that far away; I promise to show you
mountains and then we can go back to Skye; you live
in Chicago a thousand miles away and
a million years apart; some say that all noble
things are touched by melancholy; well they can suck it!

III - SOCK & FOX
Clueless rage laments my sullen eyes rolling down
the hill chasing after the backwards beast; we drove
to Milwaukee to cure us of the fog along
Wisconsin glaciers melting into the lake
called Michigan; surfing fresh water in July.
Dreaming of a long time ago when all I had
was balance and a skateboard; a fool's paradise
full of speaking tongues and drinking lemonade; she
works at Burger King spitting on onion rings and
praying to the wrong gods; this road we're on is full
of promises from a deathless king who doesn't
live; the simplest things in the Waste elude my
grasp; elegant late summer showers fall on our
heads and big shoulders; she's dying of bone cancer.
Bright white heaven hanging over the streets and the
sometimes green backwards river; at last there's a blue
sea greater than the problems blanked lucky undo.
I'm jealous of you; you have lost worry and have
nothing but road in front of you; an empty
asphalt canvas waiting for color to paint its way.

YesNo
09-28-2014, 11:08 PM
Thanks, HCabret! Now to get the other avant-garde poets to compete with this!

Lykren
09-28-2014, 11:16 PM
Swarming like children
around the irregular surface
of a stream, around lost
currents and through
windows full of
ugly shades,
glints of the next day
congeal into predawn.

This is the heritage
of the days we shake
ourselves into acknowledging
the murk and eclipse
of self’s other self
as the hundred
clocks cry morning

YesNo
09-29-2014, 07:58 AM
Thanks, Lykren! Now this is a contest.

There are about nine days left! Deadline is October 8th.

YesNo
10-06-2014, 11:19 AM
Only 2 days left!

tailor STATELY
10-07-2014, 12:20 AM
ǝʇɐᴉʇoƃǝu oʇ ɯǝǝs ʇ,uɐɔ I
ʍou puɐ ǝɹǝɥ ǝɥʇ s,ʇᴉ ;ɥƃnouǝ llǝʍ
ʎʇᴉuɹǝʇǝ puɐʇsɹǝpun ᴉ

ɥʇᴉɐɟ ʎɯ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ ʇdǝɔxǝ ʎɟᴉʇuɐnb
ʇouuɐɔ ᴉ ssol ɟo ǝsuǝs ɐ - ǝɯ
pǝƃuɐɥɔ os ɥʇɐǝp sɐɥ ɹo ¿ǝɔuǝsqɐ ʎɯ
uᴉ pǝʇɐǝɹɔ ǝɯᴉʇ puɐ ǝɔɐds

ɟo ɯnnɔɐʌ ɐ ¿uoᴉʇɔuᴉʇsᴉp ǝɥʇ
sᴉ ʇɐɥʍ - lɐǝɹɹns ʇnq 'sɯǝǝs ʇᴉ
ʇɐɥʍ ʇou sᴉ llɐ ǝɯoɥ ǝɯoɔ ǝʌ,ᴉ ǝɔuᴉs

10/6/2014

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

YesNo
10-07-2014, 03:18 AM
Thank you, tailor STATELY! One more day left!

DieterM
10-07-2014, 09:40 AM
“I’m a member of the Party”, he said,
“I’m a proud member of the Party”,
he said, and then: “I am”, he said,
“am being the present tense of be”, he said,
“and I being a being,
in whatever manner beings
are interpreted—whether as spirit,
after the fashion of spiritualism;
or as matter and force,
after the fashion of materialism;
or as becoming and life,
or idea,
will,
substance,
subject,
or energeia;
or as the eternal recurrence of the same event—
every time, beings as beings
appear in the light of Being”,
he said,
“so I, the being, am
a proud member,” he said,
“of the Party”, he said,
“THE Party”, he said and rapped
on his desk with a white knuckle,
“the 'essence' of being there
lies in its existence”, he shouted,
and rapping on the desk again,
he yelled, “I am a proud
member of the
Party”.

We didn’t listen to what he added
afterwards,
about the Dasein being essentially temporal,
its temporal character derived
from the tripartite ontological structure:
existence, thrownness, and fallenness
by which Dasein’s being is described,
existence meaning that
Dasein is potentiality-for-being
(Seinkönnen);
it projects its being upon
various possibilities,
and that existence represents thus
the phenomenon of the future,
no, we didn’t listen
because we didn’t understand.
But we heard what he
did not say, which was that
he had lain with an Ische
as if he had the right to do so,
and that he had loved her
as if a sane man could,
but that he hated
kikes
and always had.
He was
member of the Party.
That we heard.
That we confirm.

YesNo
10-07-2014, 10:04 AM
Thank you, DieterM! This is going to be hard to judge. There is still one day left for entries!

YesNo
10-09-2014, 08:22 AM
The contest is over! Thank you for all the contributions.

HCabret: I liked the Chicago references and the last line about the asphalt canvas waiting for color. That was a good comment about melancholy at the end of the second part. Melancholy feels good when it is passing away. The "apotheosis" in the first part reminded me of another set of threads.

Lykren: This sounds like someone awakening from a morning dream. The phrase, "self's other self", has got me wondering. It seems to make sense, but I hadn't thought of the self having another self before.

tailor STATELY: The upside down text illustrates the sorrow and confusion. It reminds me of a another short poem you wrote about being upside down and whether we can see the frown. The last part about eternity and the here and now makes me wonder about their difference.

DieterM: The concern about being and being a member of the Party seemed nicely incongruous. I couldn't find "Ische" when I looked it up.

I don't know what an avant-garde poem is. You are all winners, but the winner who will have to set up the next contest is tailor STATELY! Congratulations!

DieterM
10-09-2014, 09:36 AM
Congrats, TaylorStately!

As for "Ische", it's a yiddish word for "woman". Apparently, it was/is used for a cheap (Jewish) woman as opposed to a cheap (non-Jewish) woman ("Schickse"). This was meant to be a poem about the perception of Heidegger as a philosopher, teacher and person – the hint is in the title (Heathen = "Heide", short form "Heid" in German; harrow = "Egge", a harrower would thus be "egger"). With quotations from some of Heidegger's works…

YesNo
10-09-2014, 10:48 AM
The name Heidegger did come to mind when I read the poem, but I haven't read anything by him and so I didn't know why. The title now makes sense as well. I enjoyed it.

Sancho
10-09-2014, 10:52 AM
I like the Yiddish borrowings in English. They make the language more expressive. That's my shpiel anyway.

HCabret
10-09-2014, 01:08 PM
Thank you YesNo! And congrats to tailor STATELY!

tailor STATELY
10-09-2014, 04:59 PM
Thank you one and all !

Like YesNo I struggle with what is avant-garde poetry and what isn't. Unusual, unexpected, experimental, and innovative is pretty much how I view avant-garde. The poetics box has grown so large I find it difficult not to revisit contemporary and historical memes - which makes innovation perhaps impossible for me. That leaves unusual, unexpected, and perhaps experimental (in modifying known poetics) in my quiver.

Hawkman, in the current Poetry Contest http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?75971-Write-It-to-the-Tune-of-Poetry-Contest/page7 , proposes a lyrical rewrite of a 60's protest song made relevant to our times... with extra credit for a few embellishments if I recall correctly; which leads one to another aspect of avant-garde poetry that I neglected to address above: poetry that "also promotes radical social reforms." (Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avant-garde ). The varied art (sculpture/film/music/etc.) of Ai Weiwei of mainland China has recently come to my attention http://www.bing.com/news/search?q=Ai+Weiwei&FORM=HDRSC6 and, I believe, may be a good contemporary example.

I'd like to propose an avant-garde poem in any form, or freestyle, on an aspect of societal reform that you'd like to explore that hasn't already been dragged through the media ad nauseam. One of the criteria I will use to judge is how many google hits your niche garners... the fewer the better. And... please keep in mind Lit Net's rules regarding political commentary, and other expression, not condoned by our host.

Extra consideration for the unusual, unexpected, and experimental.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

YesNo
11-05-2014, 05:20 PM
We were driving south on Clark Street having long past
Wrigley Field not having found a convenient place to park
nor having any reason to do so when Alice told me to turn
onto Fullerton and take Lake Shore Drive to Hyde Park so
I could get an apple croissant and coffee at the Medici and
I thought that was a good idea and wondered why she was
so thoughtful, but when I parked near 57th Street I noticed
she had a new protest button which read, “Imaginary People
Are Real 2,” and I tried to explain to her, again, that it didn’t
matter what she wore since no one could see her anyway
and she told me I was one of the major reasons why the
world was like it was and that button was for me to wear.

HCabret
11-11-2014, 10:24 PM
MILES OF EYES: THE BLINDING OF MAGGIE LLOYD in 1901
BY ELIOT CUFF

Before the sun, before the moons stood trees of
gold and silver lighting the world for all to see.
Outside the gates of Maggie's chambers a cat on
a kite is looking for trouble and playing in
dirt in the yard; I see golden combes of ambre
standing over the hills and far away looking
through my binoculars waiting on the river
to rise; they beat me about my face and left a
trail of blood on the door of the old jail.
I woke too see that i was blind, so beat your drums
lightly and take me to the graveyard; Maggie had
taken up the job of a steel worker and walked
outside of Chicago to see as far beyond
the stars as to fight the forms and light the functions.
I open the windows to catch the calm breeze
to see where this heavenly light will fall within
the blaze; I find New Penzance Island a lovely
place to be; a tame of doves comes over the seas
and the baffled king composes hallaluyeah.

HCabret
12-10-2014, 09:15 PM
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE ALMIGHTY PHILIP P STONE (INCOMPLETE)
Bridging time and trying not get arrested.
Nigger’s never guilty; almighty Philip Stone
knows this better than anyone else; married to
a white women; fearing what this means now that I
am going to jail for a crime I could not
commit; a parade of solid wooden soldiers
come to pass through the dark night; profiled as a
common thug with no worth; Hannah Horvath walks by
with not even a second thought to those who
run; Hannah Jane is pregnant with my only son.
Nathan Moore Stone, a Captain, savior come back to
save the world from its worst transgressions; I am
sitting in the street afraid of the night hoping
I won’t end up in a pool of blood; naked eyes
in the street hoping for bloodshed and spectacle.
Bangs of a southern man who has forgot his good
book; I am now one of those grateful dead who roam
the streets of Brooklyn; I am black and very cold.

YesNo
12-16-2014, 11:01 AM
The interstate bypassed the town decades ago
and carried away the department stores and
population except for those supporting the farming
community and so I figured I’d stop by Betsy’s
Kitchen for lunch and ordered coffee and then
selected a burger and the waitress was polite but
bent over too far for her worried but youthful thirty
or so years busy behind the counter and I noticed
a sign saying that this wasn’t Burger King so if I
wanted it my way I could shove it and she told
me unless I specified what I wanted on the burger
it would come plain and I told her to put everything
on it, whatever that was, figuring I’d do it her way
and Alice told me I shouldn’t have ordered the
coffee and after tasting it I realized she was right
but it was something I could get used to and it was
not like I was the only one in the cafe since it was
nearly half full of older clientele than were in the
picture of it in its busier days and so if these people
could eat the food so could I and as I read another
sign describing the descendants of Jack Schitt a
guy with his wife at a table informed me, “And now
you know Jack,” which made me smile because I
was surprised how they got all of his descendants
that I ever heard of into that small space including
Pisa, Fulla and Dip, whom I had forgotten and Alice
didn’t know why the waitress was so somber and
couldn’t walk straight and I said it’s because of the
interstate and she said that kid was born long after
the interstate went through and when the burger
arrived it tasted good even though it was done her
way and I suppose she was worried since she didn’t
know me and maybe thought that I would not realize
that they did not take credit or debit cards here even
though that sign was the first thing you saw on the
door but she didn’t say anything and I paid her and
left a generous tip which I figured would go either into
the tip box or the cash register depending on the
need for change and as I left she cleaned up my place
and perhaps she was glad I was leaving or perhaps
the tip was unexpected or perhaps she just got tired
of that interstate and we exchanged a smile.

Sancho
12-16-2014, 03:17 PM
^nice
Think I've eaten at that place.

YesNo
12-17-2014, 07:13 AM
Thank you. Those are my favorite places to eat.

tailor STATELY
03-30-2015, 10:37 PM
A bit dated, but here we go:

Hcabret: My favorite lines:

Bridging time and trying not get arrested.
I am sitting in the street afraid of the night hoping
I won’t end up in a pool of blood; naked eyes
in the street hoping for bloodshed and spectacle.

I see golden combes of ambre
standing over the hills and far away looking
through my binoculars waiting on the river
to rise; they beat me about my face and left a
trail of blood on the door of the old jail.



YesNo: My favorite lines:

I noticed she had a new protest button which read, “Imaginary People
Are Real 2,” and I tried to explain to her, again, that it didn’t
matter what she wore since no one could see her anyway
and she told me I was one of the major reasons why the
world was like it was and that button was for me to wear.

and so if these people
could eat the food so could... “And now
you know Jack,” which made me smile because I
was surprised how they got all of his descendants
that I ever heard of into that small space
.
.
.

And the win goes to Hcabret. Congratulations !

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

cacian
05-14-2015, 12:07 PM
bump ;)

PeterL
05-14-2015, 01:34 PM
bump ;)

Bump bump :)

YesNo
05-14-2015, 10:58 PM
Bump bump bump :)

If Hcabret doesn't show up, maybe cacian or PeterL can lead the next round?

cacian
05-18-2015, 04:34 AM
how about yourself YesNo or Peter do it.)

Melanie
05-18-2015, 05:14 AM
Technically, if the winner doesn't show then it goes to the runner-up which would be YesNo. Did anyone send a message to the winner?

cacian
05-18-2015, 07:03 AM
Technically, if the winner doesn't show then it goes to the runner-up which would be YesNo. Did anyone send a message to the winner?

i am not sure.
i do not think so.

YesNo
05-21-2015, 06:00 PM
l will start next one.

Subject: Anything avant-garde whatever that is.

Deadline: two weeks

YesNo
06-01-2015, 01:55 PM
I'm extending the deadline! Anyone want to try an avant-garde poem?

I am trying to come up with a definition of what is avant-garde. At the moment anything goes.

PeterL
06-02-2015, 01:38 PM
I'm extending the deadline! Anyone want to try an avant-garde poem?

I am trying to come up with a definition of what is avant-garde. At the moment anything goes.

So what does it mean to be in the advance guard? And are poems there at all?

YesNo
06-03-2015, 09:01 AM
I don't know, but I suspect that what is avant-garde is determined by the consumers of the art, not the producers who can only offer something for sale or consumption, but cannot force consumption.

Therefore, what is avant-garde would be what is consumed by the wealthier group of consumers. I suppose these consumers could be called the "bourgeoisie", or the "rich" or the "stinking rich". The producers are the "workers" or members of the "masses".

Poems that are avant-garde, if this theory is correct, would be poems that could get published in the most prestigious publications, such as, Poetry, The New Yorker, etc.

Others may have different ideas about what avant-garde means. I would accept any poem for this thread.

PeterL
06-03-2015, 01:49 PM
I don't know, but I suspect that what is avant-garde is determined by the consumers of the art, not the producers who can only offer something for sale or consumption, but cannot force consumption.

Therefore, what is avant-garde would be what is consumed by the wealthier group of consumers. I suppose these consumers could be called the "bourgeoisie", or the "rich" or the "stinking rich". The producers are the "workers" or members of the "masses".

Poems that are avant-garde, if this theory is correct, would be poems that could get published in the most prestigious publications, such as, Poetry, The New Yorker, etc.

Others may have different ideas about what avant-garde means. I would accept any poem for this thread.


So we should regard this as practice, so we will be able to sell poetry to the New Yorker? That would be worthwhile, if they actually did buy. I better look at the New Yorker to see what they publish.

But you would accept lumpen proletariat poetry?

North Star
06-03-2015, 02:28 PM
I don't know, but I suspect that what is avant-garde is determined by the consumers of the art, not the producers who can only offer something for sale or consumption, but cannot force consumption.

Therefore, what is avant-garde would be what is consumed by the wealthier group of consumers. I suppose these consumers could be called the "bourgeoisie", or the "rich" or the "stinking rich". The producers are the "workers" or members of the "masses".

Poems that are avant-garde, if this theory is correct, would be poems that could get published in the most prestigious publications, such as, Poetry, The New Yorker, etc.

Others may have different ideas about what avant-garde means. I would accept any poem for this thread.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avant-garde

I'd think it must be experimental, innovative, boundary-pushing. I'd say that it's antithetical to being consumed by the bourgeoisie. I have no idea what contemporary avant-garde poetry would be, though. Symbolists, imagists and other ists were avant-garde in their time of course.

Melanie
06-03-2015, 04:11 PM
Avant-Garde poetry is extinct now according to this article (good article though) and was replaced with "Language Poetry" but, sounds like the closest thing we have to Avant-Garde poetry or "Language Poetry" is Cacian's style!…and she's very much alive and well! The author of this article apparently didn't know about our Cacian! So, c'mon Cacian and enter this contest!

http://litrefsarticles.blogspot.com/2008/06/avant-garde-and-language-poetry.html

YesNo
06-03-2015, 05:24 PM
@PeterL: Lumpen proletariat poetry, whatever that is, works for me. Yes, I think we should aim our practice in these threads so that we are able to sell to places like the New Yorker or Poetry, not that I have ever submitted to any of these places. With current technology, whatever we write here can be turned into at least a self-published ebook.

@North Star: There is a tension between the artist as the producer and the artist's client who consumes the work. I think that tension is what underlies the concept of avant-garde which is an attempt to emphasize the artist as superior in some way over the client (reader, purchaser), but I really don't know.

@Melanie: I agree with you about cacian's style. I hope she submits something. Your link made me think that if everything is avant-garde and the avant-garde casts aside the present then the avant-garde is what needs to be cast aside.

Melanie
06-04-2015, 06:12 AM
The avant-garde poetry movement, per se, was in the 50's and early 60's, but…if someone comes up with something new and innovative today then I would think avant-garde is alive. David Lehman's book, "The Last Avant-Garde" is a story of the "last authentic avant-garde movement that we've had in American Poetry". It focuses on the avant-garde poets, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, Frank O’Hara, and James Schuyler. They got their inspiration from Abstract Expressionist painters like Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning.

I extracted a few excerpts below from the Introduction that I thought would help us understand how the avant-garde poets approached their poetry. This Intro, in it's entirety, gives a much better understanding of Avant-Garde poetry…http://jacketmagazine.com/05/tlag-intro.html

"The [avant-garde] poets liked hoaxes and spoofs, parodies and strange juxtapositions, pseudotranslations and collages. On the ground that the rules of all verse forms are at base arbitrary, they created ad hoc forms (requiring, say, an anagram or the name of a river in every line) and unconventional self-assignments (“translate a poem from a language you do not understand; do not use a glossary or dictionary”). They adapted the Cubist collage and the Surrealist “exquisite corpse” (a one-line poem composed by a group of poets, each of whom contributes a word without knowing what the others have written <<<Hey, we could set up an avant-garde game in our own poetry-games-forum that does this!). Apollinaire’s café poems, “Les Fenêtres” and “Lundi rue Christine,” taught them that a poem could originate in snatches of overheard conversations. You could cull lines at random from books. Or you could scramble the lines in an already written poem to produce a disjunctive jolt. Many works would be improved if you simply deleted every second word. Poems didn’t have to make sense in a conventional way; they could discover their sense as they went along. The logic of a dream or a word game was as valid as that of empirical science as a means of arriving at poetic knowledge."

"They learned from Pollack and Kooning that "it was okay for a poem to chronicle the history of its own making — that the mind of the poet, rather than the world, could be the true subject of the poem — and that it was possible for a poem to be (or to perform) a statement without making a statement. From the painters, too, they understood that acceptance was not necessarily a blessing, nor rejection a curse. They were ironists, not ecelesiasts. They favored wit, humor, and the advanced irony of the blague (that is, the insolent jest or prank) in ways more suggestive of Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg."

"Freely experimental and fiercely intellectual, the [avant-garde] poets were at the same time resolutely anti-academic and anti-establishment even as they began to win acceptance in establishment circles."

"all this activity was predicated on the idea that poetry could be reinvented from top to toe. Everything was up for grabs." "They understood, too, that a poem no less than a picture could be “a hoard of destructions,” in Picasso’s phrase. And so they favored avant-garde methods of composition that inverted the received order of things. The aim was the liberation of the imagination, and any and all means to this end were valid."

YesNo
06-04-2015, 08:38 AM
I'll try to find Ashbery's "Self Portrait in a Convex Mirror". The link you cited, Melanie, mentioned it won the Pulitzer, National Book Award and National Book Critics Circle Prize in 1976.

Since they were winning prizes, they must have had consumers. Otherwise, they would not be known today.

Here is a link to at least part of that text: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-portrait-in-a-convex-mirror/

Melanie
06-04-2015, 09:12 AM
This poem, "Self Portrait in a Convex Mirror" is far more sane and understandable than I was expecting for avant-garde poetry, although I know he's a heavy in the world of poetic avant-garde. I really like it. He's beautifully describing Parmigiano's painting first and then Francesco's portrait as more of a "soul" than just a face, and distorted in the convex glass. I like it but it just seems like free verse to me instead of avant-garde…unless free verse was new and experimental in the 50s and early sixties, then that would make it avant-garde I suppose. Also, the fact that the subject is more about what the reflection is saying about Francesco's soul rather than what the world thinks. In the 50's that may have been new.

Thanks for posting the link.

YesNo
06-05-2015, 08:25 AM
I haven't finished it, but for the most part it makes sense. I don't expect avant-garde poetry to enough sense for me to agree or disagree with what is being said. I plan to listen to the whole of it later today.

One feature of the avant-garde appears to be similar to what marketers might do: they criticize what is already available for the customer as a way of promoting their own product as better. They brush aside current poetry to make way for their own, however, their poetry is itself current.

cacian
06-05-2015, 09:32 AM
maybe avant garde is whatever comes out of our mouth??
it is without thinking but more sync?

Pompey Bum
06-05-2015, 09:43 AM
Cacian wins! :)

cacian
06-05-2015, 10:02 AM
Cacian wins! :)

LOL well what else could be said ? :D
I mean it would ungarded of me to say any different
unless there is something else
like
before one in on garde
one could be off garde ??

YesNo
06-05-2015, 06:43 PM
Cacian wins! :)

Come to think of it, this contest is overdue. So I should pick a winner. I am considering any post an avant-garde poem.

I agree with Pompey Bum. We have a winner: Cacian

tailor STATELY
06-06-2015, 05:57 AM
Congratulations Cacian !

What's next ?

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

cacian
06-10-2015, 03:43 AM
thank you YesNo

the topic for avant garde is

express yourself
taken from one of Madonna's song

and the total numbers of line is
10

good luck :)_

YesNo
06-10-2015, 09:11 AM
If you want that baby, boy,
Your body better give her joy.
If you just watch her waiting there
In thigh-tight skirt and come-on hair
With giggles setting her apart,
Some dog might come and break her heart
Or dragon carry her away
Into his cave, so don’t delay.
She wants a wound-up, action toy
With heart-pumped hands to hold her, boy.

Melanie
06-12-2015, 07:52 AM
only i

awakening my inner moonlight
my hidden madness unsilenced
never to be made a victim
no one can define myself
only i

my paintbrush dips into my soul
leaving outward expressions
of inward passions and emotions
none can dictate my perceptions
only i

DieterM
06-17-2015, 10:28 AM
hefty stones n zaftig bracelets oh jiz screw em gal screw em,
an screw em good em lamborghinis n porsches em satin crap sheets
n long stem flowers cuz honestly they suck,

all ya need gal listen all ya need is jiz a skillful hand n finger
in yer hole to make ya feel like yer the queen of the world
the one who rules it all who makes em all turn turn turn

em boners n flabbies in their fast cars em boobies n flatties on their fancy sheets
cuz when yer shakin with delight n writhin an moanin oohs n aahs
when yer smellin that sticky index finger thats been rubbin n circlin

oh yeah gal yeah thats when ya know yer do much better on yer own

cacian
06-22-2015, 09:50 AM
YesNo and Dieter thank you for posting
two very different but interesting pieces to read

Melanie
i enjoyed the lightness and idea behind the piece


and the winner is....
Melanie
only i
is a lovely thought and sound too:)

Melanie
06-22-2015, 02:43 PM
Thank you very much. I enjoyed working with the great topic you chose, cacian. Give me a few moments and I'll be back with the next avant-garde topic :)

Melanie
06-23-2015, 04:27 AM
The next avant-garde poetry topic will be a who, what, when, why, where question.
For example, the question could possibly start like:
who would…
or
what if…
or
when will…
or
why do…
or
where did…

Choose one or more or all of the questions for your poem.

Deadline: July 9th

Melanie
07-08-2015, 07:07 AM
This ends tomorrow. If there are no entries it will go back to Cacian for choosing a new avant-garde topic.

If there is only one entry, that person will be the winner and choose the next topic.

YesNo
07-08-2015, 01:45 PM
I told myself that I should be about 170 pounds
and sometimes I check in the morning to see if
my body got the message and usually it didn’t,
but it turned out today that the scale showed 167
pounds which kind of surprised me and made
me wonder if there was something wrong with
the scale or if I needed to tell my eyes to see
more clearly but it looks like my body finally came
through and then I wondered what if I could
levitate and then Alice appeared and she wanted
to know what I was doing and I told her that my
body finally did what I told it to do and she wasn’t
impressed and she wanted to know about that
levitating nonsense I was jabbering about and I
told her I thought it would be cool to become
weightless for a while and she told me that would
mess up my ideas about gravity and did I really want
another cognitive dissonance experience so soon
and then she mumbled something I deliberately
ignored about needing to appreciate whatever
experiences I might have while I had the chance.

tailor STATELY
07-08-2015, 10:15 PM
tailor

who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami

7/8/2015

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

HCabret
07-08-2015, 10:55 PM
Where did you find that gorgeous Ottoman?
What if Vienna never fell to your end Peace?
When will Pierre find Love?
Who would Snoopy walk 500 miles in the Rein for?

Melanie
07-10-2015, 04:17 AM
I was pleasantly surprised to see 3 impressive last minute entries. Avant Garde has a variety of definitions but I saw a connection between all 3 poems...all took a surrealistic approach in 3 very unique ways.

YesNo - Yours had an Existential Surrealistic quality to it. It was a conversation with yourself about your personal experience and it's demands on your free will in a deterministic and somewhat meaningless universe. Alice then reminds you of your responsibilities for your acts of free-will causing you some anguish and dread. It had an unreal yet engaging quality for the reader to "hear" your conversation with yourself.

tailorSTATELY - Yours had a Dreamlike Surrealism with a strangely unexpected yet profound pop of imagery in the last word "origami"…seemingly unrelated at first. It stopped me in my tracks causing me to spend time analyzing the qualities of origami as related to "who am I"…causing a fun, engaging, and creative thought process about life's folds, layers, colors, and intricate design…ending with the creation of a perfected and whole image. All this in just three short lines. And the last line had a good rhythmic poetic flow.

HCabret - Yours was like a delightful Surrealistic Cafe Conversation combining unrelated images and events resulting in some fun and fascinating incongruous imagery. The unexpected yet deliberate misspelling and capitalization of "Rein" (and capitalization of "Ottoman" and "Peace"), and the phrase "never fell to your end Peace" and Snoopy even, were all cleverly disorienting with a touch of hallucination.

All of these were great examples of Avant Garde Poetry and all deserve to win. The winner is tailorSTATELY

tailor STATELY
07-10-2015, 06:41 PM
Thank you Melanie! Enjoyed your thoughtful analysis.

I enjoyed YesNo's and HCabret's entries as well. (The byline "I am Kurdish.......apparently" still cracks me up).

Now the hard part... The next topic, or non-topic?, for the next round: Dadaism - https://www.google.com/search?client=opera&q=dada+poetry&sourceid=opera&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&channel=suggest&gws_rd=ssl .

The Dadaism (or Dada) movement is actually older than I realized. After 20 seconds of googling for the above I found this: http://www.lasalle.edu/~blum/c340wks/DadaPoem.htm for an idea that a n y b o d y might have fun with.

I might cast my "Spam Gems" poems in the Dada light (ref: my poetry webpage - https://sites.google.com/site/apoetingardenvalley/ then control f [find]: Spam Gems). I'm not sure about my anagramic deconstruction of "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost (ref: "The Road Not Ken: Ta !")... but maybe... I'll accept this form as well; just beware that this exercise is mind-numbing.

Parameters:

• If you use the Dada Poem Generator please don't use the first thing that pops up (unless it's a cracker of a poem of course). The original cut and paste, or source might be cool to see.

• Be creative.

• Have fun.

• Deadline: 7/27/2015 midnight PDT

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

YesNo
07-10-2015, 10:15 PM
Nice Dada poem generator! Here's my entry using the previous poem "Chance" above as input to the generator and after running a few iterations:


Chance

I then levitating it want if another then wondered while become to looks ideas and I dissonance sometimes scale jabbering usually;
Myself like;
I she mumbled the wanted and impressed know the appeared about tell my her my 167;
Didn’t with soon had;
Doing my did but.
Turned deliberately what body there showed I to and would and.
Kind needing but;
While I see cognitive.
To nonsense;
My was something if I ignored surprised what my through was if she really pounds to and came I morning body she would up me thought she levitate mess see I about of experiences her it whatever.
About I.
To it did something weightless that which chance in gravity I body about that told;
It and the be wanted told.
The I appreciate I me cool and might about I scale to.
I today could;
The made if;
Should and pounds;
That me eyes;
Alice needed wasn’t have and message told;
Know was check or and that more finally then wrong and out it to wonder experience and she 170 do;
Finally be clearly a told;
For told.
That what I to I;
Got and so;

tailor STATELY
07-10-2015, 11:56 PM
Great start !

L1-L2 resona-ates Dadaism right at the get go.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

HCabret
07-13-2015, 02:22 AM
The flow of Orinoco
Someday is everyday
Everything is real
Nothing is Neil
Simultaneous creations
The public enemy
I found the god
I round the dog
This is nat language in any since of the world
Puzzle hermits
Nuzzle Kermit's
Billup, the allmaziful
Aching Brad
Chatter wall Saul
Cars on Tron the bars
The worlds bitten on a rage selling a can to kind his family
Walling found a Bill
Bowling round a kill
Calling bound a nil
A reef induction
A red transubstantiation
Bellow Calls
Yellow Falls
Billup Key. Cone the Allmaziful
Collie Mean
Calling Bean
Eliot Enough
Telling it tough
The minor fall
The miner's wall and Major Rift
The Minotaur's call
The force, the fit
The major lift
The major rift
The major tift
The baffled king
The baffled ring
Cold and broken
Old and token
Jesus H.W. Christ
The tame of doves
Ring! call me to ya
Greetings of chow
Treatings of chow
The ads rent her in space
Waiting on the river to rise
Walking on the river to rise
Talking on the giver to wise
Trading to the giver for rice
Kingsley Flood
Kingsley Blood
The can in the pie
The man in the sky
The cat on the kite
The sand on the noon

DieterM
07-13-2015, 02:45 AM
A wrong action
after you wished against all
whose arrows would bare with will and arms.
Ay! who whips by undiscovered calamity?
Awry–whether bear unworthy consummation
when thousand weary troubles bourn us,
or be what currents coil under cast…
To bodkin we turn, but come conscience
contumely delay thought.
Traveler, ‘tis country-time!
Thus thy death despised those cowards,
devoutly this does die o'er there,
their dread, the dream that dreams end,
takes them.
Enterprises take fair sweat
from fortune rather than fardels—
suffer, flesh!
Soft fly spurns not for something,
so give off slings!
Great sleep sins,
grunt shocks have sicklied heartache
he shuffled himself sea-scorns.
Heir, his say returns ills in respect.
Hue is remembered, rub insolence;
resolution law’s quietus life puzzles.
Know, regard? Long question!
Lose, love proud, make pith.
Man’s pause makes perchance more orisons,
may merit mind outrageous mortal others,
patient moment.
Might pale pangs of nobler office
name my opposing Ophelia natural,
no oppressor’s native nymph…
Must
now now

(PS: Hamlet soliloquy; I already posted this in the Poetry section, but I hope it's okay to re-post it here – it seemed fitting to me. Btw, I made this without the Dada generator; I used MS Excel, listed the words, then rearranged them more or less with one word from the beginning, one from the end).

tailor STATELY
07-27-2015, 11:10 PM
Entries close tonite: Deadline: 7/27/2015 midnight PDT

cacian
08-30-2015, 09:00 AM
this I believe is long overdue anyone?! :)

PeterL
08-31-2015, 08:07 AM
I believe you are right, but aren't you always?

tailor STATELY
10-05-2015, 11:49 PM
Oh my. Time is my failing; my apologies. Thank you cacian for rattling up the æther.

YesNo: I agree. The Dada generator is a fun little appy thing: "I dissonance sometimes scale jabbering usually" is golden.

HCabret: "The worlds bitten on a rage selling a can to kind his family" was quite Dadaic. I am curious as to what your inspiration was.

DieterM: A high-brow approach beyond reproach.
.
.
.

With no further ado I choose YesNo for the Dadaist of this august list of poets... this iteration; my bliß.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

YesNo
10-06-2015, 01:05 AM
Thank you, tailor STATELY!

I'd suggest a subject for the next avant-garde poetry contest, but I'm afraid that true avant-garde poets would do whatever they wanted, and, frankly, I'd accept whatever.

So, this is the subject: "Whatever"

Deadline: ??? Hopefully soon.

tailor STATELY
10-08-2015, 02:41 AM
Whatever: A Dadaic Representation of "The Lockless Door" by Robert Frost





Thought knock climbed light I door to hands;
With in" blew out but age a been window I;
At may it door the the knock alter I both sill.
Last whoever of went.
Again on cage descended.
The was wide.
A the "come and to came sill and in;
Door at knock raised back at my so the;
To in.
Tip-toed years emptied;
But the world I hide with lock.
Knock lock and to.
Over the bade I the my and came prayer the.
Floor a outside have no I the.
Many

10/7/2015



Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

DieterM
10-08-2015, 03:39 AM
wha
tev
er is
is som
etim
es
ar
bi
trar
y
and so
me
times
kis
met
mean
ing
predes
tined
depen
ds
on yo
ur
perce
ption
or
wh
tev
er

North Star
10-08-2015, 04:25 AM
Whatever: Leda and the Dada-Swan

Thighs? fingers from beating his the push staggering blow: his sudden.
He the his caught.
Brute still a loins bill how she that.
Great those up her girl feathered breast dark so.
Burning on the body.
In there.
The how the upon white nape so her by glory the.
And above air.
Terrified her could;
Laid strange mastered blood where.
Wall his in holds beating thighs;
Knowledge the;
Her drop?.
In shudder of caught by.
Before heart roof it power and.
The helpless can breast but tower loosening and broken indifferent.
Wings agamemnon did with webs.
Rush engenders let;
The the feel dead.
Lies? vague the being beak.
Put her a;
Caressed can

YesNo
10-08-2015, 09:08 AM
Thank you for all the entries!

This means I can make the deadline definite: Saturday, October 17th will be the last day to enter.

HCabret
10-14-2015, 12:22 PM
There once was a man from Nantucket, his name was Uncle Toby.
There once was a parson from Denmark named Yorick.
The Himeji Castle is the dramatic backdrop to this tragic romance.
The formerly grey roof of Human Understanding is a blank slate.
Tristram Shandy II is the name my parents gave me.
The kids at school just call me Laurence.


but That was after I was born.

YesNo
10-18-2015, 08:46 AM
Time's up! Thank you for all the entries!

tailor STATELY: I can hear the dada-generator making Frost turn in his grave with this one.

DieterM: Nice broken up parts of the sentence in each short line. It sort of makes sense.

North Star: The repeated "a" sound was nice in "Dada-Swan" in the title.

HCabret: The first line made me think that the avant-garde have taken over the limerick. The last line put a nice time twist on this and got me thinking.

I have no clue who should win this. I enjoyed reading all of them. I have to pick one and so the winner is: HCabret!

Congratulations!

HCabret
10-18-2015, 12:46 PM
Thank you YesNo!

For the next contest I am going to set the topic of: Metamodernism: "ironic detachment with sincere engagement".

Deadline: November 11th

tailor STATELY
10-22-2015, 08:32 AM
Found a source that might help re: metamodernism: http://www.metamodernism.com/2015/01/12/metamodernism-a-brief-introduction/ from "The Notes on Metamodernism" web page (for those who are as lost as I am).

Thankfully it lists a few poets
...the poetry of Jasmine Dreame Wagner, Sophie Collins, and Melissa Broder’s quasi-mystical multimedia NewHive offerings. who (apparently) have written in this genre of no genres.
... metamodernism itself is not intended as a philosophy or an art movement, since it does not define or delineate a closed system of thought, or dictate any particular set of aesthetic values or methodologies.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

HCabret
10-22-2015, 12:57 PM
Deadline will be November 11thish.

YesNo
10-22-2015, 05:16 PM
All those fresh books on polished bookcases made
me realize that someone’s making money but then
I noticed that all those authors wrote in the twentieth
century which meant that although the books were
new what was in those books was old and so those
authors must be modernists or at best postmodernists
and not metamodernists and Gerald said that was
because students are fundamentally conservative
down to their genes because they think they have
to read the entire library before they can say they
are intelligent enough to shoot their mouths and their
teachers are even worse living in the dark ages before
flush toilets and I told him that most people nowadays
use flush toilets even teachers but he said he was
exercising his right of ironic detachment and I was too
insincere to get it and I wanted to know what sincerity
had to do with it and he said that I just proved his
point and I of course was fool enough to ask him what
point he thought he had just made and he laughed like
someone who really knew something that I didn’t and
then he pulled a book by Cioran from the shelf and read
a random soundbite to me with a smile and a twinkle
in his wicked eyes proving that I was too stupid to engage
him in argument and I had better start reading all the
books in the library before I shoot my mouth again.

Lokasenna
10-23-2015, 12:22 PM
I've adapted something I wrote a little while back - I hope it fits the 'metamodern' theme!

My Post-post-(post?)-modern Poem

I’ve decided to write a metamodern poem
as they’re all the rage these days
with the kids, not to mention the fact
that people actually publish this horse****.

I’m going to write in free verse,
partly because it gives me the freedom
to express my innermost thoughts and feelings
in a free-floating, dancing filigree that’s not constrained by
a conscious prison of fascist form,
but mostly because rhyme and rhythm
are such a fag to get right.

I’ll begin slow:
I probably need something to hook the audience’s attention,
so I’ll start with sex.
Only, I’m not very good with sex. Whenever the
subject matter takes a gynaecological turn,
I come over all English. There are only so
many euphemisms for a bit of clumsy fumbling
and frankly I’m not comfortable with any of them.
Perhaps it might be better if I throw out some
abstract images that don’t really mean anything,
such as an old and worn barn door, a dog wearing a hat,
and the late President Grover Cleveland.
Now that my audience is nicely confused,
I’ll throw out some mad ragbag clutter
of mixed metaphors and deranged similes,
like a Turkish pharmacist dancing the
gavotte between a rock and the end of the line.
It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense,
so long as I glare hard enough at the audience
any old crap will sound profound.

It’s usual at this juncture to put in some
meaningless digression that has nothing to do
with the subject of the poem (if it should have one),
so here we go:
How am I going to sell this drivel? These days
a poet must be as marketable as their poetry,
so I suppose I need a ‘thing’ to go with my work,
something to express ‘Brand Me’.
I went to a poetry reading the other night,
four poets who ranged from awful to...
well... also awful, but in a different way.
The first was some woman wearing half a
dead badger round her neck, and the bones of
last Sunday’s roast chicken in her hair,
who waved her arms about while maundering through
some dreary monologue about Vikings skinning things.
After some polite applause, she rewarded our fortitude
by reciting another poem, also featuring Vikings
brutalising fluffy animals. I think she needs help.
Next up was some bloke with a stupid
beard and a Dr Who costume, labouring under
the sad delusion that he was amusing. After a few
long minutes of pointless prattle, he tried to sell
us tickets to his one-man show. Bet that’ll cause
a few suicides. The next poet was actually quite good,
but she won’t do well – she was far too normal.
The final poet’s work I can’t comment on:
not only did he mumble incomprehensibly into his notes,
but he was dressed EXACTLY like one of my
uncle’s garden gnomes. What is it with poets
and alarmingly-coloured trousers nowadays?
Oh, and he also had a stupid beard. I think
they must be part of the uniform. Mind you,
when grown out my beard is also pretty stupid,
so maybe I stand a chance after all.

Anyway, back to the poem proper.
I’m not sure what to do now, so I’ll mention
Grover Cleveland again,
and throw out some gratuitous foreign lingo:
¿Dónde está el ayuntamiento?
¡Me duele la cabeza!
Maybe Spanish is a bit too obvious
(some people in the audience might actually know it),
so...
Hvar er klósettið?
Ég kalla á lögregluna!
I would add some footnotes at this point
but I’ve never worked out how to make Word
do them nicely, and in any case I think
the less I explain, the better.

And now, because I’ve got nothing to lose,
I’ll finish by mentioning
Grover Cleveland again, and
trailing off into a meaningful
silence...

HCabret
11-12-2015, 03:08 PM
I very much enjoyed both entries.

YesNo: You employ a self referential form of mythopoeia, which a major characteristic of metamodernism. You tell a grand story of introspection and self doubt, but constantly remond the reader of the metaness of your work. Your poem may be ten stanzas too short for a hard core metamodernist though.

Lokasenna: It seems that you've written a critique of metamodernism from a postmodern perspective. You fully and wholeheartedly embrace ironic detatchment, but your poem lacks the characteristic sincere engagement of metamodernism. That being said, I enjoyed your poem and thought it was very funny. Ironically (or maybe not), metamodernists would embrace the "fascist" constrainsts of pre-modern verse in an attempt the convey a reconstructionist mythopoeia.

Winner: YesNo

YesNo
11-12-2015, 04:49 PM
Thanks, HCabret! And thanks for introducing metamodernism.

The next topic for the avant-garde contest is irony.

Deadline: Hopefully before December.

HCabret
11-12-2015, 06:33 PM
Thanks, HCabret! And thanks for introducing metamodernism.

The next topic for the avant-garde contest is irony.

Deadline: Hopefully before December.How ironic?! :D

YesNo
11-12-2015, 08:14 PM
I just counted that as an entry, HCabret! But I am willing to accept more than one entry per poet, so please enter again. I need as much irony as I can get.

Pendragon
11-13-2015, 10:38 PM
Oh the Irony!

Isn't it ironic
That a love that's platonic
With someone who's exotic
Can turn so erotic
An intoxicating tonic
That heartbeats turn sonic
The tongue tangles phonics
Like something demonic
Hearts together harmonic
An experience iconic
Yet the illness is chronic
Like plague Bubonic
Or even Pneumonic
And you swoon like a catatonic
How very ironic!

Pendragon
11/13/2015

Lokasenna
11-15-2015, 01:00 PM
Lokasenna: It seems that you've written a critique of metamodernism from a postmodern perspective. You fully and wholeheartedly embrace ironic detatchment, but your poem lacks the characteristic sincere engagement of metamodernism. That being said, I enjoyed your poem and thought it was very funny. Ironically (or maybe not), metamodernists would embrace the "fascist" constrainsts of pre-modern verse in an attempt the convey a reconstructionist mythopoeia.


I'm glad you found it funny - thanks for judging! And congratulations, YesNo!

YesNo
12-04-2015, 02:29 PM
Any others? Avant-garde! Avant-garde!

YesNo
12-11-2015, 11:12 AM
I guess there is no one else.

The winner is Pendragon! I liked all the -onic sounds.

Pendragon
12-11-2015, 10:43 PM
Thank you. Let's go with "subtle"

YesNo
12-13-2015, 12:25 AM
I turned the key locking the front door and went down the steps
to follow the sidewalk to the library thinking about people blowing
up restaurants and thinking what it would be like to be in one of
those restaurants eating my last meal and not knowing it was my
last meal and maybe it would be a valuable thing to do, since life
was short anyway, to volunteer to be their target but I didn’t know
how this would help them see things differently still someone was
going to be their target and typical targets probably had other plans
for their day when I met Gerald who said that no matter how much
self-hypnosis he tried he still did not feel very good about himself
and I asked him if he was using positive messages or negative
messages when he was in his trances and he said they were obviously
negative because he didn’t feel good about himself but they should
still work and I told him the mind is tricky and if he wanted to trick
it back then he had to be subtle which made him feel even more
negative about himself because he realized he wasn’t even subtle
and then I told him to forget what I just told him and he said it was
difficult now to forget what I just said and so I decided to forget it
for him and we continued walking to the library and I was feeling
good, looking at all the details that life manifested on the street and
Gerald wanted to know why I was so happy and I told him I didn’t
know I was happy and that made him feel even worse and he wanted
to know how I did it without hypnosis or drugs and I said maybe I
got high on life and he said that was garbage and it probably was
and he said that even if everything I thought were true, whatever
that was, if I had enough brains, which I apparently didn’t, and if I
were subtle enough there are definitely ways to see it all differently.

HCabret
12-13-2015, 12:33 AM
The pale white king on his horse looking up at
the aerolites burning above in the greene sky
leads the lamentatious cavalcade down the street.
Following come the children of Eden through a
raging storm of bayonets pointed down by the
king's soldiers and his fleet of paper salesmen.
Next will come a poet with drums beating to the
rhythms of the morning's dawn's sleeping blue garden.
In the sundered sea of red comes out a prophet
from the bank, a thief before coming home to you.
Stolen everything from his father, everything
he could carry thrown down a dark city alley.
A bowling ball rolling down the cobbles coming
to a stop at the feet of a mugger with a
million names a long way from home telling him to
feel grief over the loss of his newly dead son.
The pale white king's tongue laden with heavy black lead,
unable to speak of this sorrowful feeling.
The royal roads, crooked and vague, running north towards
the king's castle, burning yellow with sun during
the long winter's last snow before the spring's first rain

HCabret
01-09-2016, 07:59 PM
Due to circumstances elsewhere on this forum, I may be forced to cease posting on this forum. Please feel free to remove my poem from consideration as part of this contest if this happens.

Cabret

YesNo
01-10-2016, 12:00 AM
I hope you stick around, Cabret. Forget about the other places on this forum, although I find that hard to do myself, and write more avant-garde pieces.