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Thread: Toilet scribbles and other Clean Poopie Adventures

  1. #1
    Sweet farewell, Good Nite
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
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    2,336

    Toilet scribbles and other Clean Poopie Adventures

    Night drains the sky of milk from cows

    like a uterus
    from hell

    Pulled by a conspiring sucking sound
    nervous stars you can hear coming through
    a faint rip in the seam of things, between you and the black matter
    -verse on the verge of Hawking-izing
    the night the city burned like a modern-day Carthage

    all for
    some Queens-y
    Cosmo face
    from 90th
    and North
    with her human resource pedigree and O’Neilian pipe dreams
    while your dreams stir at the bottom of morning coffee, black
    hoofing down a real bagel leftovers 'on the company'

    The church-filled halls ring in your ears
    in one formaldehyde blue monday
    tapping the pointer against the neon-glared presentation board
    bar graphs sautéed in (your) psychedelic bar-stool-trance-like projections
    the night before holed up in some first-class piss and s**t house with atomic poop
    welling up inside you (grandiose upheavals of dark matter?)
    she's sketching pink elephants
    as you write half-original sonnet on her pristine belly with starry climes
    How would you recall that scribble in the stall
    in such a tequila sunrise hour?
    the flowers you picked from a rooftop botanical
    and cherry blossoms near the bustop
    which ends
    heaving over a
    toilet staring at your
    Pontius Pilate SOUL
    in the reflection
    with brain clappings
    of a young girl with PINK bike streamers
    floating you a paper airplane
    out of a
    PINK
    slip

    the fuzzy peach tickle in your mouth
    and the way the road bends in the reflection of your seagrams
    sails you into a mad after-hour jaunt
    starting at
    Bleecker on
    and on...
    to
    UNION
    SQUARE
    wiping
    poop
    on a camera lens hanging high
    the screaming-bagpipe-playing-Irish-bar-man pause
    before turning the deadbolt Clunk

    she lays
    across a bus stop bench looking up at the stars
    with her head on your lap
    taking the last drag of your Monday morning smoke
    monologuing her sad-go-round life

    your head tiptoes cold 43rd street box car
    clam chowder
    scrambled eggs
    toast
    and burnt bacon strips
    overpriced fluffy merry-go-round cheese cake
    with a slim fork
    waiter with his.....................god bless! smile
    ...................and the frogs that came falling out of
    the sky in one ribbitting apocalyptic

    poop
    Last edited by jon1jt; 10-05-2006 at 09:29 AM.
    "He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
    ---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll

  2. #2
    Thinking...thinking! dramasnot6's Avatar
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    I'm sorry if I'm a bit too late to reply to this but I just think it's a shame no one has so far. Your poem has some of the most powerful imagery i have ever read, my favorite examples are "like a uterus
    from hell" and "half-original sonnet on her pristine belly with starry climes". When reading the title you expect this to be something tasteless and crude, but it really gives you a shock. It's a bit hard to swallow all the meaning and messages in the poem with this intense imagery hitting you, but there is no denying that it is incredibly effective. Well done
    I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.


    Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  3. #3
    Sweet farewell, Good Nite
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Posts
    2,336
    Quote Originally Posted by dramasnot6 View Post
    I'm sorry if I'm a bit too late to reply to this but I just think it's a shame no one has so far. Your poem has some of the most powerful imagery i have ever read, my favorite examples are "like a uterus
    from hell" and "half-original sonnet on her pristine belly with starry climes". When reading the title you expect this to be something tasteless and crude, but it really gives you a shock. It's a bit hard to swallow all the meaning and messages in the poem with this intense imagery hitting you, but there is no denying that it is incredibly effective. Well done

    thanks so much for retrieving this one from the 'litnet graveyard'! that's what makes writing poems worth every drop to me; it's in the never knowing "when" someone will be open to its energies. and this one took a while didn't it?! i think you're right about the title turning people off, not to mention some strange references. in the original, the lines are staggered and broken and run around the page, but i was unable to present it that way here as the formatting doesn't allow. despite, you were open and captured the imagery, and so for that i'm inspired to write another poem. thanks dramas.
    "He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
    ---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll

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