[This is the first in a planned series of twenty-three.]
Before the beginning
the void was emptied
erased like forgotten sands
paved over with vacuity
satiated with emptiness
Pregnant with song
the silent voice skitters
across the missing surface
scratching her thumbnail
against endless nothing
Faltering they join
in disjointed reverie
masticated spirits
born of the edge between
possibility and uncertainty
Expelled into creation
the cold, cold vacuum
stirs broken memories
of things never past
and nothing yet to be
Time falls and it begins
...and then I woke up.
8)
Cool poem, gnimbley.
Poetry scatters through the air
The rain falls
To a gray world
The colors swirl
Nebulously
A drunken Apollo dances a tune
In an endless changing world
That turns and moves by the whim of words
Magic spells
Paradox
Paradise
Eternal life and death
Discordant harmony
Order and chaos
Balance.
Hotsuma eats gnome shit.
Hotsuma may eat gnome shit, but he's not the only one around here who thinks...nay, knows that poetry sucks rancid goat-ass...
8)
mass poetry = instant phail.
Quote from: That Communist Bastardpoetry sucks rancid goat-ass
is that not weirdly poetic in it's own right? (or write for you lennon fans)
The Continued Adventures of Bionicle Mcgonicle - Jonathan Berman
The continued adventures of Bionicle Mcgonical Bionicle Mcgonical, the exemplar of sardonical; He wrote a book, to the shelves quickly it took. But the public is wary of that which is out of the ordinary And refused to read the novel.
“I’ll force them!” he confirmed, karate only recently learned, Of brute strength I have plenty! Though my gas tank is quite empty, and I haven’t left home in three years!
The question he pondered, as down his halls he did wander; that he could not reach the public was feared? “I’ll bring them here.” So when they are near, I can make them to read my great works!
A great party he planned, with halls deck in a manner quite grand. He was rather happy, but then he felt (cruddy) because he forgot the guest list.
He checked his address book, but after but one look, he broke down, and cried. “I’ve been such a misanthrope!” He exclaimed, “Not a single name is named; not a single friend have I!”
He search frantically for a phone-directory, but he had not phone and cried out for this inequity. “Why great gods of Olympus, must my life be such a trite fuss?”
“Why can’t I have it easy at all? Every time I get up, I just seem to fall! No opportunity have I wasted in life, no experience passed up no matter the strife! Is that it, do you want me to die?! Life with no one share to share it tastes of bitter lye!!”
End of this long speech goddess Eris appeared. Oddly enough she was sporting a beard. She tossed him an apple made of purest gold. Carved into its face “KALLISTI” in bold.
With that she was gone, and in her thunderous wake, Mcgonical knew what to do, for Eris’s sake. He took down the balloons, ribbons, and streamers. The hats, tables, and paintings (for the dreamers). When this was done, he had exhausted himself, and slept peacefully within the great dome.
Upon the morning, he took a great step; he released his book via Internet. There weirdoes could download without fees, it became a best-seller if that term can be applied to something gratis. [graah-teez]
The other day I when to the past;
The trip there was fast;
but it did not last;
for much time.
Then I returned to the present;
and ate cooked pheasant;
with lime.
With the dial turned to yellow
I met a fellow
who was quite mellow,
for that era;
he was a terra(or);
at the local pubs.
Several jugs
he would down,
and then he would frown,
for in vomit he almost drowned,
on fatefull day.
I traveled to the future,
where I needed a sucher,
for my lacerated neck wound.
The surgeons suggested,
that after I rested,
I should become a mime.
For my laryx was crushed,
when I had rushed,
to Twenty-Twenty-Nine.
^ Now THAT is proper poetry.
Quote from: Solitaire^ Now THAT is proper poetry.
it still sucks.
It sucks?
QuoteThen I returned to the present;
and ate cooked pheasant;
with lime.
How can a poem containing these lines suck? Just look at the many-layered complexities, the deep metaphor, the wry social criticism of today's world contained within the lines! This is an incredibly articulate piece of writing that works on many levels. The writer's deepest subconscious tumult is carried across in the rhythmic, yet irregular sporadic bursts of raw emotion!
Social criticisms and deep metaphors suck. Which is ironic, because saying a concept sucks is in itself metaphor.
Quote from: SolitaireIt sucks?
QuoteThen I returned to the present;
and ate cooked pheasant;
with lime.
How can a poem containing these lines suck? Just look at the many-layered complexities, the deep metaphor, the wry social criticism of today's world contained within the lines! This is an incredibly articulate piece of writing that works on many levels. The writer's deepest subconscious tumult is carried across in the rhythmic, yet irregular sporadic bursts of raw emotion!
Too philsophical a response to my 'poetry' methinks.
There were plenty smarter
thank Jean-paul Satre,
And there wasn't anything Nitche
Couldn't teach ye
That I did not learn
in elementary school.
I dare to mock,
John Locke,
and Plato was a fool.
If deCarte were correct,
he would not exist,
and Socrates was a tool.
And Marx?
What a lark(s),
with communistic rule.
QuoteToo philsophical a response to my 'poetry' methinks.
Glad I can keep fooling people. My ability to write complete utter bullshit about other people's poems got me in the top 5 for my english literature exam :D
Quote from: SolitaireQuoteToo philsophical a response to my 'poetry' methinks.
Glad I can keep fooling people. My ability to write complete utter bullshit about other people's poems got me in the top 5 for my english literature exam :D
Nah, not fooled, I just wanted to post the philosophy poem. I once got an 'A' on a paper that compared "Winter of Our Discontent" to the "Epic of Gilgamesh" in the context of macro-econmic theory as regards to the global conspiracy. Though I quite suspect that the teacher did not bother reading the paper anyhow.
[This is the second in a planned series of twenty-three.]
The magician stands on a barren stage
Eagerly peers through the fractured mist
Desperate to catch some recurring glint
A familiar face or a lover's kiss
The magician waves his now broken arm
To mystically hold the wandering room
His finger flicks troth mysteries of life
Still hidden inveiled in encroaching doom
The magician strikes at the morphing light
As gathering smoke darks the mirrored page
Raw cascading waves, flung unmeasured, crash
Strew abandoned thoughts 'cross the empty stage
The magician flaunts simple hard wrought fact
That temptingly darts in and out of sight
Then lovingly hides in a transient hoard
A savory bite supped some future night
        - Jacksonville Beach, 2/10/2005
Very cool, gnome. 8)
Quote from: McStabHotsuma may eat gnome shit, but he's not the only one around here who thinks...nay, knows that poetry sucks rancid goat-ass...
8)
most of it yes - but you haven't read the cantos - and digested it - ny one who wants to say
it is beautiful
because,
ah yes,
it is
beautiful.
can - but try reading W.S. Merwin and not think
Quote from: gnimbley[This is the second in a planned series of twenty-three.]
The magician stands on a barren stage
Eagerly peers through the fractured mist
Desperate to catch some recurring glint
A familiar face or a lover's kiss
The magician waves his now broken arm
To mystically hold the wandering room
His finger flicks troth mysteries of life
Still hidden inveiled in encroaching doom
The magician strikes at the morphing light
As gathering smoke darks the mirrored page
Raw cascading waves, flung unmeasured, crash
Strew abandoned thoughts 'cross the empty stage
The magician flaunts simple hard wrought fact
That temptingly darts in and out of sight
Then lovingly hides in a transient hoard
A savory bite supped some future night
        - Jacksonville Beach, 2/10/2005
you need less adjectives
- y'know Mr. T wrote the most beautiful poem I had ever heard - but I didn't realize it till just now
Quote from: gnimbley[This is the second in a planned series of twenty-three.]
The magician...
::Mentally searches the Kaballah crossed w/ the tarot::
Hey gnimbley, is a poem about the Empress next?
Wait.... what's the second Atu, anyway?
Yes, only that is just the secondary influence. Numerology is
tertiary (although, I must admit, I think I ignored it in this last
poem.) I will leave you to ponder the primary pattern.
By A Drunken Messiah - by a drunken messiah
Messiah poetic
Bows before the crowd that would slay him
Were it not for his immortal invincible love,
And outstanding libido that fucks through all time,
He would be not so seksi... and all dead and shit...
Were he not so utterly cool.
Are you the messiah?
You wish, bitch.
Yeah, go messiah.
That could cure the world.
But solipsotistically?
I dunno.
Fuck the messiah.
Quote from: gnimbleyYes, only that is just the secondary influence. Numerology is
tertiary (although, I must admit, I think I ignored it in this last
poem.) I will leave you to ponder the primary pattern.
I propose the primary pattern is a re-symbolization of the Sacred Heart, the Unhooding of the Cobra, the Holy Grail, and how 2 become one and explode into nothingness (2+1=0).
Quote from: LMNOQuote from: gnimbleyYes, only that is just the secondary influence. Numerology is
tertiary (although, I must admit, I think I ignored it in this last
poem.) I will leave you to ponder the primary pattern.
I propose the primary pattern is a re-symbolization of the Sacred Heart, the Unhooding of the Cobra, the Holy Grail, and how 2 become one and explode into nothingness (2+1=0).
THAT'S AMAZING, LMNO!!! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY wrong.
But, hey, there have only been two poems so far and
they are pretty obtuse. But thanks for playing. Better
luck next time.
::spins the wheel of furtune on his way out::
Quote from: gnimbley
THAT'S AMAZING, LMNO!!! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY wrong.
But, hey, there have only been two poems so far and
they are pretty obtuse. But thanks for playing. Better
luck next time.
::spins the wheel of furtune on his way out::
DAMMIT!
::soothes::
Quote from: LMNOQuote from: gnimbley
THAT'S AMAZING, LMNO!!! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY wrong.
<snip>
::spins the wheel of furtune on his way out::
DAMMIT!
It's your turn, you do that to me all the time. Correction, most of the time. Make that some of the time. I know, you're gonna say time doesn't exist, right? Bite me!
*ahem*
I thin that i shall never see
a poem as loverly as a tree-
:lol: :lol: :lol:
JUST KIDDING!!
Here Goes:
Ghostly but Not Undead
This World does not mean
what you think it means
So whatever dreams
whatever fantasies
whatever moonbeams
whatever summer breeze
whatever seems to be on its way
take it for Phantoms, shades
Chimera, mirage, illusion
take it away from your eyes
and awake with sudden surprise to
cold blade of neural lies slipping past
bony cage to bless your warm heart
with inpenetrable Darkness of the
Long Untroubled Sleep.
Now open your dirt stoppered ears to
hear widows weeping for
long lost loves and mournful
cooing of Doves in the Oaks o'er shadowing
your Headstone.
Kallisti! Pope LoU
Quote from: PopeLoUDICRUCE*ahem*
I thin that i shall never see
a poem as loverly as a tree-
:lol: :lol: :lol:
JUST KIDDING!!
Here Goes:
Ghostly but Not Undead
This World does not mean
what you think it means
So whatever dreams
whatever fantasies
whatever moonbeams
whatever summer breeze
whatever seems to be on its way
take it for Phantoms, shades
Chimera, mirage, illusion
take it away from your eyes
and awake with sudden surprise to
cold blade of neural lies slipping past
bony cage to bless your warm heart
with inpenetrable Darkness of the
Long Untroubled Sleep.
Now open your dirt stoppered ears to
hear widows weeping for
long lost loves and mournful
cooing of Doves in the Oaks o'er shadowing
your Headstone.
Kallisti! Pope LoU
tim iz mitt and mit iz ttim
i love blue
Before you go insane
you must first get IN
N before I
and finally
realize the DOG
is GOD
And DOG must get OUT
T before O
and U left about
hawk's blood
and monthly mud
the path of the adept
wears OUT
O.U.T. socks
know this!
This sucks.
you know, teh out is psoed to be like uh vishnu brhama and shiva. i think.
i can;t recall if those are teh right gods.
well teh life giver, teh sustainer adn the destroyer.
i forget the rest. i'm going to forget this again as well. goddess eb rpaised, teh infidels' penicals are boobytrapped! and their stomach rot in hell!
Quote from: horab fibslagergoddess eb rpaised, teh infidels' penicals are boobytrapped! and their stomach rot in hell!
Classic words that everyone needs to hear.
Quote from: Irreverend Hugh, KSCQuote from: horab fibslagergoddess eb rpaised, teh infidels' penicals are boobytrapped! and their stomach rot in hell!
Classic words that everyone needs to hear.
absolutely. tehre are no americans infidels in baghdad! never! the dogs are drownign in their own blood!
...
i was staring into the void
dark and blank
but present was a distinct smell
i reached in
and pulled out this thread
Quote from: Irreverend Hugh, KSC on April 01, 2005, 08:49:31 AM
Before you go insane
you must first get IN
N before I
and finally
realize the DOG
is GOD
And DOG must get OUT
T before O
and U left about
hawk's blood
and monthly mud
the path of the adept
wears OUT
O.U.T. socks
know this!
This sucks.
This is another reason we all hate Hugh.