Someone suggested poetry for us (444 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: -0.75 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by attack_with (View user info) at 2006-05-24 16:31:15 EDT
Poetric moetric flectric plectric pants bottle pants bottle.
That was a warm up, trying to loosen the vowels and keep the other things in line. Something something. I'm going to leave the inner workings of the poem in here, in addition to the poem which I haven't arrived at yet.
I've not done much poetry, not seen the point in it much. Don't like it much. I enjoy Bill Patten and Samuel Beckett. They are nice.
Here is one by Bill Paten that I will draw certain things from:
"These songs were begun one winter"
These songs were begun one winter
When on a window thick with frost
Her finger drew
A map of all possible directions,
When her body was one possibility among
Arbitrary encounters
And loneliness sufficient to warrant
A meeting of opposites.
How easily forgotten then
What was first felt-
An anchor lifted from the blood,
Sensations intense as a lunatic's,
Ruined by unaccustomary events,
Let drop because of weariness.
My reading of the poem is that it's a dude who's quite run down, has a great sexual encounter with some random girl and then doesn't persue a relationship with her because it's too much of a mission. And it points to the chemicals released during a romance, namely Dopamine - also released by cocaine and nicotine; Neropinephrin - or adrenalin, heart racing flushes; Seritonin - temporarily drops the sanity of the lover, biochemically to aid the pursuit over common sense, the brain chemistry of this stage is similar to a schizophrenics. The poem feels closer to the real thing then does reading these facts.
And here's something by Samuel Beckett:
Ooftish
offer it up plank it down
Golgotha was only the potegg
cancer angina it is all one to us
cough up your T.B. don't be stingy
no trifle is too trifling not even a thrombus
anything venereal is especially welcome
that old toga in the mothballs
don't be sentimental you won't be wanting it again
send it along we'll put it in the pot with the rest
with your love requited and unrequited
the things taken too late the things taken too soon
the spirit aching bullock's scrotum
you won't cure it you won't endure it
it is you it equals you any fool has to pity you
so parcel up the whole issue and send it along
the whole misery diagnosed undiagnosed misdiagnosed
get your friends to do the same we'll make use of it
we'll make sense of it we'll put it in the pot with the rest
it all boils down to blood of lamb
My reading of this poem is that it's mainly relating the transcendental experience from a brothel, or a pub, or a gambling house. That these places overun with disease are not much different to the greater God then any other, a church say. The narrators experience is quite grim, he seems quite pissed off and fed up and he seems to be calling up all these "miseries" in defiance, pointing to God or Jesus and absolving them for/to himself or the readers. Or he could be bundling all these not-lovely things and shoving them into the faces of the christian, asking if all this awefullness is supposed to be good as the good book claims. I don't know, but I like it. "Ooftish" is a Yiddish expression meaning, put your money down.
I've gone all stiff. Wrinkle fleddel. See?
Iambic amber Hannibal's glove
Stab the woman's Bodily love
Or
Iambic amber Hannibal's glove
Stab the good lady with bodily love
Read like
De dah de dah de dah de de dah
Dah de de dah de de dah de de dah
I think the last three feet are trochee's, from what Steven Fry has passed on. But that's not really for here, and I won't bang it out Dadaistically as other's do.
Anyway. The two poems each had a clean focus anyway, and they were quite engaged in the subjects. I would have to focus on the blur, because that is ever present in my thinking, some stuff just lays your brain apart and you're sat there oogling the parts in childlike wonder wangwangwangwang. Anyway, spilt milk...
Spilt milk built barriors
Years ago in youth,
apart unknowing split
and grinning at the truth.
I don't like it already. But self judgement cripples. "The blur" it will be then, but first part revised.
The spilling of milk
Along down my spine
The white of the eye
Was Turning to wine
Nope.
God spilling the truth
salt and tears laughing gass
eyes spill
remembered still
the glory of spilling into now
Say nitrous oxide
Hold ether rags
Burn cigarettes untill
Burnt faces laughing still
Popping of dantes inferno
Relinquishing blurring expanding and
Expand and expand and expand and
now tied to this, the two collided and a spinning and give it back fight must have control give. Stop. Blink.
I lose sight in poetry. Exaltolide15-pentadecanolide, for example, is perceived clearly only by sexually mature women, and their sensitivity is heightened at ovulation. So I should go off and meditate on oneness, carry on fixing the water cooler in my car, and think up good ways how eggs should be sucked.
Some more words by Bill Paten:
On itslef the meat will practice daring games.
The lanky meat, the coy meat,
The round and innocent meat,
Curious to discover
Why it is so excitable.
I think that's about masturbation. Excitable meat, really gives a funny feeling when you put them together.
Oh. And relationships with audiences... Bob 1966 the firebird suite Beckett Breath (shut up) and etc. I'm having so much fun. I'm going to start something with a bit of focus hopefully. Uber specialist have good focus. I don't wish to be an Uber specialist. I wish to have some focus. But I am, it's quite sick. Goodwill, I wish it to ooze too. Just fucking ooze. But anything venereal is welcome.
User Reviews
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-05-25 03:08:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
No Comment
Submitted by EchoBoxing (user info) at 2006-05-24 19:49:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
NO WAY. NOT WINSTON. Get this. Fifth grade. Mrs. Boobcheck is going outside to water some plants. Winston throws me a half pound of cocaine over my sisters head for the Butterfinger I scored him the day before. Get this. Sniper shoots the bag because he thinks it's an Arabic bald eagle, coke goes into my sisters vagina. She was 27 years old.
Submitted by Boatplank (user info) at 2006-05-24 17:03:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I looked him up. GLALL "Of course, being a typical Ohio-bred American, I couldn't wank my Johnson for more than five minutes without thinking about destroying a bag of puppies", he's got some good stuff.
If ever I went to America I would go to Ohio. And Marfa in Texas. And then up north with the bears and the mountains.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2006-05-24 16:39:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-05-23 07:24:35 (#)
Ranking: 2
I can see what you where trying to do there but I'm in no mood.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-05-24 16:33:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
yet another low-rent GLALL clone...