write a really WEIRD poem

Thank you

Code:

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

                  Free
                        F
                        a
                        l
                        l
                        i
                        n
                        g

---

Nobody knows
Nobody cares

We are not here
We are not there

The Dogs of Despair
the Lords of Nowhere

Watching you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very good, 5th. I was afraid it wasn't going to be weird enough at first, but it eased into it, which was good, better, in a way than going weird right away.

Wow, that was quick! Thanks blp, I've been playing around with rhyme and that's where it took me. Tesco, of course ;)

This joke will cut you up, he said,
He seemed to see the knife flash
and his sides split
with violent shaking
eyes screwed nearly shut,
lips stretched back grotesquely.
This joke he seemed split with,
Violent, shaking, lips nearly back,
shut grotesquely, and his will
seemed cut, his knife stretched
and split back, said flash, shut
the knife, the joke, his split,
eyes split back, shaking, nearly cut.

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

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

:lol: I laughed out loud when I read that last one,and then looked back and saw the ones before it.. great stuff blp!

haha really cool.
Reminded me of how Only Revolutions *check it out, is written

Thanks Silas. Great reaction.

What's Only Revolutions, limajean?

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by blp

Thanks Silas. Great reaction.

What's Only Revolutions, limajean?

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

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by limajean

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

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

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Thanks. I'll have a look for that.

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by blp

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

---

:lol: I love this.

Thanks, 5th!

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

Drip
drip
drip


the water
falls

Oven set at 550

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

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

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

I’ve been called a b..ch so rarely

I think that the thread names made by june30 would make an excellent poem.

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

Yes, that is very weird. I think people at the moment are trying very hard to EXTERMINATE! her though. (Sorry, I had a dalek moment, must have been the subliminal tapes I listened to in my sleep.)

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

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

the '14yr old ' title was truly disturbing

I was wondering if someone really into poetry and symbolism could offer their own interpretation of this poem. It's interesting to see what different people can get out of the same poem sometimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Riesa

Oven set at 550

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

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

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

I’ve been called a b..ch so rarely

---

Knock-poem, Ries.

EDIT

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Silas Thorne

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

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

oh my, you guys have been really prolific while I lazed around. Will read all your weird poems later on.

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

I've been saving these a long time, thus their wrinkled appearance drycleaning could not remove. -ff


At the Summit Meeting

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

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

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


Willing to Travel

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

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

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

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

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

It can all end in a

Pulse!

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

Nice one DM. I'm not so sure it's weird at all. It's really quite true.

I love this thread. I think that the Weird Poems are awesome! :nod:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by firefangled

Nice one DM. I'm not so sure it's weird at all. It's really quite true.

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Hehe thank you

in which I fall asleep,
in the field behind my house.

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

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

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

He plays the sonnet, held tight to his breast,
earnestly waiting for those who know best.
There shakes the feather, held down on the ground:
'let me free!, let me free!',
yet the thoughts had no sound.

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

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

---

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

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by firefangled

in which I fall asleep,
in the field behind my house.

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

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

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

---

This is totally ace.

Code:

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Illustrated phone book phonetic abridged
 computers

Had win, canopy      digest    clogged ventricle            it is


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


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

flecks of spit                    landing on their loved ones,

                  and members of the

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

for pedestals.

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