Post your poetry thread!

[St. Jarvitude]

Let's all post some poems we've writen:

This one I wrote after I saw a video on drunk drivers. I felt ghoulish realizing that I was munching on popcorn while watching such a grizzly flick.

airbag

how a screeching raindrop can make you
swerve hand over hand

to avoid the potholes filled with flat root beer.
or you hit that brick wall

the square root of 36 becomes 8, not 6.
the popcorn filled air bag saved my life. that,

a nutritious treat, low in calories,
high in taste. it comes in handy

for the unicycle accidents involving men
straight from the drive-thru liquor store

and blood alcohol of point one eight percent.
did you even know they existed? ears ring

as blood exits mingling with smirnoff ice
from broken glass. cut to flashback

like clip shows when writers run
out of ideas: how at school

when the sky tears open and it's raining
it's pouring the old man is snoring and

teacher calls "indoor recess!" and
we're all reduced to chinese checkers and

lego. the pitter-patter of raindrops on the rooftop
is no match for shouting third graders in the

narrow space between desks. tight spacecraft
are no place for claustrophobes. in space

who can hear you scream. in the classroom
who can hear the unicycle collision

explode in the parking lot and
vaporize nearby pools of rainwater.

no one can hear the screams of all five fatalities
of unpopped kernels and raindrops.

-----

I saw some loser with a Kanji tattoo find out it actually meant "camel stench" or something similarly ridiculous instead of "war". Apparently, some tattoo artists have great senses of humor.

Tattoo

Japanese kanji tattoos
you think mean
"honor" "love" "peace"
actually mean
"shoehorn" "stench" "fish sandwich"
should not be written
in industrial strength Sharpie.

But others -
devil horns and goatee on pResident's poster,
freedom fighter Arabic on a gauze banner,
peace rally "HAIL TO THE CHIMP" sign -
deemed more deserving of the Sharpie's mark.

It makes them last
until the world
turns to nuclear dust.

[Neoma]

1. umm..ok well..

high into twisting flesh,swirls of black always at night,
smoking slips of blue flame i see in sight,victims of
nothing,they cry in shame,for who's else is in blame?
running in the shadows light,dazed glares and fires life
,sweet greens leaks of signs,holding in me lives my pain
,rushing through my days of old,blink of red bitter in
scrapes of visions i see cold

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

Glassy cuts onto the stone,much unheard,
most untouched,many passes to the road,
devised to ponder on what is what,
fragments of nightmares left unseen,many
voices from another dream,in foam of
glossy myths,numbers gone into blackness,
numbness in whole of self,fire in deeps,
no one is for keeps,not one puzzles over
what is not infrount of behide,different
feelings from another mind,beneath is
wonder,on top is questions,circles of
whispers is gone,hopes rise in spite of
nothing,vengeance is going up,killing for
the site of lust,allot gone in the winds
of hunger,eyes see no sight of you,
till the speechless games that hold
against you drops beneath the milky rocks
of pain

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

Drowning down into this song
moments past but its not gone
guiding towards the empty stream
not one time have i missed a dream
stinging sounds i have not grasped
tired of wondering into this past
open glides upon the shivering shape
of where i belong quoting motion of this
feeling drum upon my loving heart,i hate
this part of notions i see crawling up
in vein many times i am ashamed squirming
yawns of clasping thoughts i wish i had
sight of what is brought into the
pinpoints of my life i expect not one is
what i would detect

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

eyes open in the dark or be beaten by the flame
of sparks,glassy roads of ice you glide,past
the endless sky's,most of all you see not when,
you see now or this time will not begin,open
the box of noise of questions and see if your
not deaf,tear drops always in a picture,add it
to the mixture of hate and see the blood of no
fate,if its cold go die and see if its better
then this life,i see no means for pain it has
nothing from it to gain,turning softly in the
night depth of fog creeps unheard in the window,
the night of water the night of moons let this
morning be over soon

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

http://www.geocities.com/greenbulb1/Poems.html
(maybe misspelled,sorry)

[patdem]

2. I am a rhymer, but I have tried a few without rhyme

This is an experiment to NOT rhyme! LOL


APHRODISIAC

I must concede I have never imbibed in

that most portended potent aphrodisiac -

the tusk from that species soon to surcease


The Black Rhino.


Perhaps there is some malleable male hormone

that may assist a heretofore impotent potentate

reach some level of expected excitation

or maybe the male's mind's malleable -

Perhaps it's the power of the thought that

in his hands "stands”

the result of extinguishing the existence

of an entire species specific

of the creator’s creation.

[oneighty]

3. Based on a true happening

Oe'r in de grave yard

Knocking down stones

Jumping up and down

Singing "Rattle dem bones."

Now dem bones done

Rattle on yer head

Cause you make plenty noise

To rise up de dead!

Poor little bad boys.

[patdem]

4. A little background...is it a prayer for a bad boy killed??

a prayer in a graveyard and happened upon a bad boy grave?? What is the background here???

[oneighty]

5. Long ago in a cemetery in Charleston SC area.

some boys were caught red handed vandalizing. They were arrested and prosecuted. Poor little bad boys!

At the time wrote this, just so.

180

[patdem]

6. Thanks for the quick response..you left me wondering...

now I know... maybe you could re write to allow non knowers of the dialect to understand? you could introduce the prosecution?? their being caught?? something to indicate they were just kids doing bad things in a cemetary??? I hope you compile it into a book...written in normal English..with the dialect well dispersed throughout?? how you can do that I have no idea..but it would be very interesting reading!

[flying_monkeys]

7. Ya know, I think this would be perfect (m)

As the opener of a Dark story about maybe kids in a graveyard and spirits awakening and wrecking havoc on their butts - - something King-esque...

It is such a wonderful set-up for a furthering of the story... But not in dialect (the rest of the story)...

I liked it :) You should play with it in a Dark Fiction way...

[MrBenchley]

8. Okay....

Since you asked....

Dennis Day’s Dream Song

I’ll tell you something that happened
On a day not so long ago
It’s something I long to remember
It’s something I want you to know

A well-to-do American
back in the land of my birth
The country that some call Ireland
And some call heaven on earth

Back in the town I was born in
Seeing its many sights
As a promise to me dear mother
who had herself gone to France

And near the tourist hotel
Down an alley where no-one goes
I saw the beautiful face of
Ballykillarny’s Rose

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

I was strong as a button that summer
and some say as cute as an ox
On my sleeve I wore my heart proudly
In my pocket I carried my socks

And when I saw Rose there washing
Her father off with a hose
I decided to throw away caution
And there on the spot propose

But just at that enchanted moment
A pub nearby opened its door
And when I came out somewhat later
I never saw Rose no more

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

And so I went back to New York then
With my heavy heart and my care
And Rose went off to Chicago
And became a waitress there

And now she works at Tom’s Diner
Where the regulars know her as Meg
And sometimes she serves them sardines
And sometimes she serves them an egg

But I patronize fancy restaurants
Wearing my stylish clothes
And whenever I stiff the waitress
I weep for my lovely Rose

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

Yes Rose, she works in a diner
As lovely as she can be
On Fridays she plays the Lotto
With never a thought for me

There’s a Happy Fisherman’s Platter
on the menu, from the deeps
And whenever a patron orders it
Rose the waitress weeps

Some say she weeps for a young man
That she lost once long ago
And some say she weeps for her sister
Or because Norwegians are killing the whales

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

Yes though I had sorrow and heartache
At the office I quickened my pace
on Wall Street I sold derivatives
and grew a goatee on my face

Then one day I caught influenza
And had to stay at home
in bed drinking orange juice
And thinking about being alone

And I vowed to fly to Chicago
And look up my lovely Rose
And reveal my undying devotion
And ask her just how it goes

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

And so I flew to Chicago
To look for the woman I love
with a heart-shaped box of chocolates
grasped in my gray suede glove

But Rose was off on vacation
in Cuernavaca Mexico
where she was drinking tequila
And getting a lizard tattoo

And so I flew back to New York
pitiful as that sounds
I ate all those chocolates myself
And put on fifteen pounds

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

Now I sweat with my personal trainer
So once again I’ll be svelte
And Rose still works in Chicago
where the fish of the day is broiled smelt

And someday we’ll meet again somewhere
Enchantment will be in the air
I’ll throw away my Day-Timer
She’ll take the net off her hair

And together we’ll dance down the sidewalk
to a cottage home ever more
Where we’ll hide when the in-laws come over
Or the paperboy knocks at the door

(chorus)
Oh Rose of Ballykillarny
Oh Ballykillarny Rose
You captured my heart when I met you
A secret that nobody knows

[patdem]

14. Your poetry is as funny as your satire! That was great and I sang

along!

[MrBenchley]

25. Thanks...

Glad you enjoyed it....

[SoCalDem]

9. Ain't war grand??

SoCalDem (20220 posts)
Feb-12-03, 05:07 PM (ET)
53. Ain't war grand??


Planes flying
Bombs dropping
Children dying
Corks popping
Mothers crying
Zealots praying
Rumsfeld grinning
America's staying
Ari spinning
Oil gushing
Money flowing
Poverty crushing
Hatred growing
Flags flying
Bush smirking
Children dying
Democrats shirking
Mothers crying


and this one



A little bit of tape..


tear ducts overflowing...

illuminati eye averted..
corpse dust , in the wind blowing
screams with no sound....
decency and compassion denied,subverted...
horror,devastation and fear abound..
pillage, plunder and rape
only "victory", they'll be showing..

all that is needed is some tape...

duct tape for our eyes,so We need not see
duct tape for our ears, so we need not hear??...
duct tape for our mouths so we need not speak
duct tape for the ducts of their tears????...
videotape to chronicle successes...
surgical tape for Iraqi injured...
red tape to expose the excesses..


scotch tape to mend our constitution??



and this one


Get Over It

Like Santa, he's made his list
He's got the world united...and pissed

What to do first..

bottom to top, or least to worst??

War.......................check
Loot treasury.............check
Phony appointments........check
Kill Roe v Wade...........check
Loot Social security......check
Break treaties............check
Defile environment........check
Ruin economy..............check
Lose jobs.................check

oh yeah...

WORLD WAR (extra added attraction...NUKES)....


He rocked our world...used real rocks, to our dismay
We stopped thinkin' about tomorrow
We're trying to make it through TODAY...
End of the line, everybody off...destination sorrow..



from the DU Poets Poetry Slam

http://www.democraticunderground.com/cgi-bin/duforum/duboard.cgi?az=show_thread&om=746&forum=DCForumID62#53

[bellringer]

10. "Dreaming Life, Dreaming the Universal"

(the verse inconsequential)

Orion rises above the lake, with the Hare at his feet and the Bull preceding.
Here stand I, the essence of transience, of fragility, beneath this secular sky...
Cold stars glittering. I know them by name, and greet them,
As in a handful of seasons, quickly passing, have I done the same.
What mysteries fill this blackness? comes the question, unbidden...
Still the stars stand silent, and hold their secrets from me.

Straining towards the bright objects of my fancy, I imagine I hear,
With trained and tuned ear, from the Great Beyond, voices whispering.
Dreaming those alien eyes, wizened, wise, look back at me.
I would wish it so, and to the winds throw my fancy...
Stars like sand along the empty skyways.
Souls like sand upon a universal beach.

I would give invitation, could it be heard, dreaming heartstrings harmonic in yearning.
Inner self pleading the fusion elemental, Visit here, visit us, visit me...
And offer such appendages, possessing, to this trembling hand,
That scrawls the verse inconsequential, this earthly eve.
What hearts yearn the same across this stellar panoply?
I cannot answer, but I wish I could - for them, for us, for me.

Winter with its own stars passes quickly; soon I shall stand beneath summer skies.
Asking the same of the inhabitants therein, yearning as ever towards Aquila,
Putting the question to Cygnus 'cross the firmament wide.
As in a handful of seasons, quickly passing, have I done the same.
What mysteries fill this blackness? comes the question, unbidden...
Still the stars stand silent, and hold their secrets from me.
-------

copyright 1997, by R. Brock, all rights reserved

[bellringer]

11. "Waking up to the Dream"

I've never been to war; last night
I dreamed I was there.
It was a night terror.
Stowed in the back of a B-24, like a
Crate of C-Rations
Comprising much the same, made of
Jerzee brand milk, and
Hershey bars, galore
Fed to fight like an animal, and
Die on the field somewhere.

The dream shifted; I was
In some stinking barracks, somewhere
Saw Commander a shadow inside the door
I was having trouble getting suited up, couldn't
Find my trousers, couldn't
Make sense of my gear(Private fears)
I remember thinking:
"Living here on razor's edge, I'll just
Die on the field somewhere..."

Yet again the dream shifted; I was
On my face in the snow, felt the
Bullets 'round me in the air, like
Angry bees in my hair, surely
Comprising much more, made of
Lead and copper
Single-minded slugs, of foreign manufacture
One was
Made
For
Me.
---------
copyright, 1989, by R. Brock. All rights reserved.

[bellringer]

12. "Nuclear Child"

When I was a little boy, I'd
Lay at night in my bed and try to imagine
That umbrella over my head.

When she was a little girl
Olly-olly-oxen-free in a terminal world
And the man on the TV said...

"There's a Red Star, rising in the east
They want to make a bloody feast of our
Young and old and
Brave and bold and
Sick and infirmed, they'll create
Deadly germs, they will bring us
Misery untold."

So they said in
1962....

Born in 1962
I was a nuclear child
Growing up, I would
Guard the perimeter around.

Born in 1962, thought I was
Growing up free and wild
But at night I would listen
For that ominous sound.

Now, nothing's changed
Now, nothing's rearranged, it's not a
Safer world, now.
General is still out there on the field
He keeps showing them how.

There's frozen fire down below
There's thunder 'cross the Gulf
And there's young men in a row
Every man for himself.
-------

Copyright, 1990, by R. Brock. All rights reserved.

[bellringer]

13. On the Western Front (in a rainstorm)

Up there, when you're living in fear
You've got to watch your back
Because the cards are stacked
Against you.
Keep your name and number
Around your neck, you're an
Albatross flying the blue
Sky flying
Too high to hear the people crying
On the Eastern front, below
All those faces you never met
And will never know...

Meanwhile...
On the Western Front, in a rainstorm
"Mother, tell me, when is Father coming home?
Standing tall and proud in his uniform,
Just like those men who came knocking
At our
Door."
-------

copyright by R. Brock. All rights reserved.

[patdem]

16. When I look at the dates of your poems, I wonder how prescient you are

These are all great poems! All war poems..and all (except the last undated one) before Gulf War 1!!!

[Longgrain]

15. I'm not much of a poet....

more into fiction, but I thought I'd share something I wrote. I wrote this Easter morning, about two years ago, after spending my Saturday hanging around Amherst, MA with my brother and his ex girl friend. It was the first really nice, sunny day of the year, so we went to visit the grave site of Emily Dickenson. I was just finishing up my first novel and was looking for a little inspiration. Any ways,
here it is...


Loose Change for Emily

By the Duer known as Longgrain.


22 cents is all we left
11 cents to boost my confidence

Walking through the marble pages of
A slow moving dusk,
Not far from the streets--
Tattooed by the lust of youth
And nursed by the cracking lips of
The peasants that stayed behind.

They still walk outside the cemetery
In the orange light of spring
Selling their crystal drops and bitching
About the war.

We linger among the lines of stone
Reading the names of the monuments
Inhaling obelisks of lilac smoke
Laughing, humping, hurling along among
The dead.

Poetess
Goddess
May 15, 1886

The fenced off streets beyond
Almost touching the burial ground
And the sun just doesn't’t seem to
Want to meet
With the coins of the eye on your tomb.




Here's a picture...

?phvZhpBBdvfZAzYT

[patdem]

17. Your link does not work...the poem on the other hand is just fine!

[Longgrain]

18. Thanks for the encouragment....

and I'm glad you liked my poem...

As for my link being broken, I'm still relatively new to this whole computer/ message board thingy...trying to feel my way around and maybe learn a thing or two in the process..

[Longgrain]

26. Here's the photograph I was trying to post....

Sorry it took so long...

[boi1946]

19. Self-explanatory...

September 13, 2001

Outside the air is hazy with the ashes of my brothers.

Outside the air is hazy with the ashes of my sisters.

Somewhere a child tonight is weeping for her mother.

Somewhere a child is born who will never know his father.

The rain that falls tonight on the ruins of the buildings

mingles with the tears of a nation’s childhood ending.



There are voices loud for vengeance,

and voices filled with hate,

And people whose only thought is to retaliate.

I want vengeance, too.



But somewhere a mother’s mourning

for a murderer-

her son.

In a language I don’t understand,

In a land I’ve never seen.

I am breathing in his ashes, too.

Can I feel her fears?

Can I understand her awful pain?

Can I cry her tears?





Stumble

A quick glance only at the man
who stumbles down the busy street--
matted grey-brown hair,
and crusted eyes.
Lips move,
talking to no one.
Buttonless shirt
exposes luminescent skin
ready for blistering--
ribs pinking in the Texas sun.
He hitches at his too-large pants
fixes his bag
higher on his shoulder,
and is gone.
A quick glance only—
to look longer
might mean that you could care.

[bellringer]

20. A Strange, High House in the Mist

H.P. was no outsider
Though he sang for his supper
As it were.
By destiny, was a
Poor provider
And he gave up his beloved
For sure.

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
Was maybe for Walt Whitman
But not for H.P.

We could live
In a strange, high house
In the mist.
We could live there, darling
Now what do you think of this?

H.P. was a pulp-fiction writer
By the standard of the day
Quite obscure.
By Providence, was a
Poor provider
And he gave up his beloved
For sure.

Saying goodbye, dear Sonja
Is as hard as any
Hard thing can be.

We could live
In a strange, high house
In the mist.
We could live there, darling
Now what do you think of this?

[bellringer]

22. At the Air Fair

At
The
Air
Fair
Under-
neath
The
August Sun
I saw a Veteran
Peddling the flag
American
As four A-7s flashed
'Cross the crowd, from behind
He didn't marvel at the sky, or express surprise
Being well-acquainted with the role of an A-7
Genie missile, napalm
Bright incendiary
Bomb
A-1 as
Air Support
Fine for
Flushing out Viet Cong
Wherever they're digging in.

[bellringer]

23. The Era of the Atom

Gathered we once
In the serenity of desert dawn
In calm contemplation of white light astounding
Meanwhile, mother frying eggs in
Alamogordo
Father
pulling
his
big
boots
_____________on.______________

[cavanaghjam]

21. No Explanation/Just the Poem

This Damaged Light


this gated mind
no tongue can broach/
reveal.

this rising blood
no heart can feign/
control.

these sullen stairs,
this endless night;
a chained dog
cries memories
into a nameless age.

this damaged light
no eye can slip/
repair.

this fetid wind
no soul can halt/
escape.

this scripted fate,
these identical days;
a bird
plucks a gnat
from the air.



(Somewhat rewritten since originally published 1999.)

[nostamj]

24. is 'sullen stairs' a typo?

it's the one thing that doesn't work for me and stops the poem cold.

can stairs be 'sullen'?

[cavanaghjam]

29. No, no typo

It's perhaps the figurative use of stairs that is troubling you. Imagine, if you will, coming home to the same climb back to the same dreary, lonely apartment - surely the climb would be made morosely. Poetry, though seemingly made of words, is truly made of images (at least in many modern usages); one must take care not to read it literally.

[nostamj]

30. can't agree

poetry is made of words which evoke images. WORDS are it. and 'sullen stairs' doesn't work (for me)

p.s. the poetry lesson is rather condescending. if a poem cannot be read literally, it cannot be read deeply and only offers surface effects... (imho)

[cavanaghjam]

31. My apologies

I meant neither to be condescending nor to give a lesson. Though poetry may be learned, I'm not sure how effectively it can be taught; but that is merely my opinion. And final judgment rests with the reader, not the writer, so I cannot ever quibble when someone says something does not work for him or her.
I wonder if "climb" in place of "stair" would have evoked a similar disjunction. I like the alliteration of "sullen" and "stair." That's one reason I used the phrase, but your point has caused me some reflection. There's a line, "And let the music of their swords make them crimson", that leapt to mind when thinking of images that come from words which would not profit from being read in a strictly literal sense. Then, of course, I had to rummage around in my old poetry books to try to find it. I still haven't found it, but I have found some old poems I love but had quite forgotten, much like seeing old friends who have slipped from one's life. I must get back to them now, but I thank you for getting me started in this reacquaintance.

[vixengrl]

27. Well, here goes..something:

Where a pagan kid in a Catholic college came up with this (circa 1993), I don't know, but here goes--


Brazen Serpent


Turning,

Turning in all your coils

Feel God is fire

And know

The way up is the way down.

To deny motion is death.


These things happen

To the best of us.


And it is a hard thing

To drown by this anchor,

To be cast aside

By these deaf stones,

To take on the weight

Of so much dust.


And you were always

The best of us.


Turning,

Bitterness fills your mouth,

But here is sweetness.

There is no way that is not,

You would understand.

It shall be

As written


But it will be hard

For the rest of us.



And you will not be broken,

Not you, the stronger vessel,

Not broken though pierced

Again by the raven

Again by the thorns

Again by the mistletoe

And shot with light.


And darkness fell

Across the best of us.


When it is finished,

Dying is finished,

But motion is eternal

And cannot be denied.


I have remembered you of old

And my heel

Still stings.


Return to your Mother.
***

And in the same vein, six years later:

Light



Happens with the best, the worst,

The breaking of a trust

Between the one and all-

Something must be split.

And so the man must cease to be,

Or begin to find his soul.

It is a crux that comes

When the father of a man is gone

And bitter gall is the wine-

Could you change your tears to that?

No, the kingdoms of this world declined,

What is left is mere son of man-

Or rather-woman-born.

And magic that was not learned here

Must be learned in the grave.

There is a death that must be seen

before the light,

but once that light is known,

the fracture is repaired-

the one, the all, reconciled-

When at last you know you are a stranger,

You learn to save yourself.

[vixengrl]

28. And very different--sort of political:

Balls to You


Connecticut yankees with mock Texas drawls
have parachute balls
and cut-glass balls,
fund-raising balls,
and ass-kicking balls.
They dare you to
"KICK THEM HERE."
(bring it on!)
When yellow cake sugarplums dance in their heads
they'll fill you with dread,
make some more bread,
blame Tommy instead,
and lie like the dead--
they detonate in a flash, or wait 'til a squall--
so flaccid and small.
Unhappy balls
of hopeless gall--
they hear a call
of "Hey, wimp--
hey,
hey, y'all!"
See Daddy fall, and Momma pall.
Kick them there.

[undergroundpanther]

32. 3 poems

Brave New World
By Underground Panther in the Sky


We say we want a brave new world
Ever Forward- while we look back so idyllic

Do we remember
How the people were riveted into the machine,
blind eyes turning can't hear the heart
How they l bowed down,enthusiastic for Leader

A terrorized selfless unit
Masses of murderers
Caught themselves up in
the chain of command
to avoid the blood on thier hands

I guess Brave New Worlds
aren't so brave,after all

The Normal Game
By underground Panther in the Sky


To the tune of "the Brady Bunch"

Let me tell you a story,'bout a game called Normal
It's really no more than a psycho hunch
That people to be a better species
need to die a bunch

In eighteen seventy-seven Normal was invented
Its birthplace was the mind of Francis Galton
Galton had a fondness for pins and boxes
The marbles said who'd pass on

The normal game
The normal game
That's why we all play the normal game.

Galton was a cousin of Charles Darwin
Of origin of species writ of fame
They were cruel men thought of as smart men
None dare call them insane.

Galton thought he'd engineer evolution
Some greedy rich men felt that this was it
They called it a genius innovation
Thier heads were full of shit.

The normal game
The normal game
That's why we all play the normal game.

Till the one day when Galton sold the public
And they believed it was much more than a crock,
Because Darwin said our species could be guided.
let's start with Galton's cock.

The bible scholors were up in a furor
Evolution still has thier panties in a bunch
But it's the people who evolved into the churchmen
Whom ate the normals for lunch

The normal game
The normal game
That's what happens when we play the normal game.

Years later a Galton fan named Hitler
Took normal to it's very scary ends
He killed lots and lots and lots of people
He even killed his friends

But these stubborn and clever eugenists
Wouldn't stop normal o'er bad press
they changed tactics,co opted psychology
And made a total social mess

The normal game
The normal game
That's what happens when we play the normal game.

Eugenics then warped the social mindspace
Creating false ideas about human minds
Take a person, make them play normal
fit in to save thier face

So psychiatry has forced us to be 'normal'
The crazy norms became our 'sanity'
We are so scared now of being different.
We act like Hannity

The normal game
The normal game
That's what happens when we play the normal game.

So we'd rather lie than know our own life story
Never admit how confused and scared we are,
But we are different people living all together
Hiding from our scars

So to avoid this we all try to look real normal
Pretend our life it is not so very rough
Denial and control is our way of life now
So we must be tough.

The normal game
The normal game
That's what happens when we play the normal game.

So It seems that old man Galton got his way now,
It seems we all are normal to a fault,
Monoculture rules in the suburbs
Normal is our cult

The normal game
The normal game
That is why we all play the normal game.

Mr B's War Room
De-Version 1


Terror Alert!
They're scarin' us again!
War! for God!
They're prayin' for the end,

Fear whips us up,and we sit up at night.
World thinks America's crazy, and we are allright,
The pundit's all dressed up and spinnin' us tonight,
Bully boys in suits goosteppin' on the right,
Big baby government gonna get us in a fight,
They actin' crazy and don''t know how to play fair,
I'm doubled over again gettin' sick on the stairs.

They know our limits 'cause they cross them every night,
Propaganda dull our awareness on the TV every night,
Homeland security with their ears to my door,
Give chickenhawks bombs to set off from afar
'cause they can't fight a war on TV if there's gonna be gore!
Praise the Looooord! Inside mr. B's War room

Go in debt at walmart to show us your pride!!
Shut up 'n' wave that flag,prove you have 'nuthin' to hide!
Cheer on this war 'n' holler for some more!
who cares if this war makes us all poor!
Whoo-oo-oo-hooo-hoo -hoo!
Whatcha gonna do 'bout mr B's War room?





Mr.B's War Room
De-Version 2
(to the tune of Mr.B/s Ballroom by Devo)

By Underground Panther in the Sky



Terror Alert!
They're scarin' us again!
War! for God sake!
And they're prayin' for the end,

Fear whips us up in a frenzy ,so we sit up all night.
World thinks 'merica's crazy, and we are allright,
The pundit's all dressed up and spinnin' us around
Duct tape on the windows, jumpin' at every little sound..
Whoo -oo -ooo -hoo ho hooo! Whoo -oo -ooo -hoo ho hooo!

Democrats in suits are goosteppin' to the right,
Big baby government gonna get us in a fight,
'publican's actin' crazy,don''t know how to play fair,
When the white house talks, I'm gettin' sick on the stairs.

They know our limits 'cause they cross them every night,
Propaganda manage perception on TV all night,
Homeland security is droolin' with their ears to my door,
Listening to my bowels move but still they want to know more!

Wimpy chickenhawks can launch bombs from afar
'cause they can't fight war onTV if there's gonna be gore!
America has some big psychological scars
Blithely killing the planet with our Big fuckin' cars

Just shut up 'n' Praise the Looooord! In Mr. B's War room!

Go in debt at walmart to show us your pride!!
Shut up 'n' wave that flag, prove you have 'nuthin' to hide!
Cheer on this senseless death 'n' holler for more!
Who cares if this war makes us all dirt poor!
Whoo-oo-oo-hooo-hoo -hoo!
Whatcha gonna do 'bout mr B's War room?


Fundies want Armegeddon,So they don't care!
The Oil men will do anything to us to get thier share,
W hen the World's resistance to war grows loud,
Don't react to bullshit and lose your head in the crowd,
We are divided by arguin', shootin' off our mouth to look smart,
When we put Bush under pressure,together,
We can all watch him fall apart!
Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa!...Whoo -oo -ooo -hoo ho hooo!
Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa! Whoo -oo -ooo -hoo ho hooo!
Bustin' mr. B's War room..

Mr Bush is nervous running out of air,
Bush pees his pants, as he dives under a chair,
Fumbling on the wall for a hidden door,Look!
Cheney's secret hideout ain't a secret no more...
Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa!... Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa!
Here's Mr. B's War room!

Police! come on out of there!
UN! Kissenger can't hide in there,!
Freeze! It's a Citizens arrest!
Let's lock up this resident pest!

Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa!...Whoo -oo -ooo -hoo ho hooo!
Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa! Whoo -oo -ooo -hoo ho hooo!
The end of Mr.B's War room.

Fundies want Armegeddon, World resistance grow loud,
Don't react and lose your head in the crowd,
We are distracted by arguin' , tryin' hard to be smart,
Put Bush under pressure,and we can watch him fall apart!
Hah-aha-ha-ha-haa!
Bustin' into mr. B's War room..

Police! come on out of there!
UN! you boys ain't hidin' nowhere!
Freeze! It's a Citizen arrest!
Goodbye to mr.B's War room!

[Longgrain]

33. Just for fun...

Another one, for a friend :hi: (you know who you are if you're lurking around here...)

I still have a serious poem or two to post..maybe tommorrow...

Anyways...

"Ode to a Fluffernutter Sandwich"

Oh fluffernutter sandwich
Sitting admisdist the refuse
Did Longgrain throw you away?

What a shame.

What a shame!

You didn't taste good.

;-)

[fluffernutter]

34. i really like this one. the flow is very nice,

and i like the use of spaces between the stanzas - quite a good piece.

i haven't had a good laugh like that in a long time, thank you, dear Longgrain.

p.s. the other one about stalking was amazing too, you are so talented! (honestly, i really do think you are very talented for a guy who slops in mud and doesn't like fluff ;))

[Longgrain]

35. This is suposed to be about poetry...

So stay on topic my dear lady or post a poem of your own!

Still it's my fault for posting it here in the first place:evilgrin:

Back to the Lounge for me...:hi:

[LeftPeopleFinishFirst]

36. MY TANKAS

I had to write two 57577 tankas for my English Comp class, here they are. This is a different poetry than I write, more confined, but I enjoyed it.

slow stumbling tree
perfect purity and form
hollow haunting bark
white withers these trying times
this instant in time alive

*******

flying forceful change
colours crack controlling time
everywhere regret
lying living like love can
oh they fall fast toward gone ground

[sundog]

37. My Town

My town
Sits on the
Big River
Near dirt roads
Over cattle guards
Kicking dust toward
Asphalt yellow lines
Roadside Daises
Sweet Datura
Coke cans
Crumbled McDonald's bags
And coffee
Over details
Of the bust at Charlie’s secret
Meth lab
Metal housing
Swamp cooler
Fantasia
Metallic orange
At the alarm clock buzz
Blood brush on
Prickly pears
Stumbling by
Cottonwood
Mesquite
Bloodsweat
For those I love
This summer fading
Thunder roll
Evening in
My town

[ContraBass Black]

38. Paranoia

Lean times are ahead,
So I'll tighten my belt buckle.
The way to hard fists
Starts with ten bloody knuckles.
I don't need to be great
To come through this struggle,
But any strain at all
Seems to pop my soul's bubble.

As I continue battle
No enemy is in sight.
I strive to move in stealth
As I walk in the light.
Even among friends
I watch my left and my right
Because I don't know when an ally
Will turn to me and fight.

Anything from my heart
I play close to the chest.
If I let a detail slip,
I hold tight to the rest.
Even though it’s lonely,
This way is the best
As I don’t know which direction
That I’ll be hurt from next.

[RevolutionaryActs]

39. All your poetry is good, I'm afraid to post mine.

:cry:

[Longgrain]

40. Come on Rev let it out!

If you took the time to write it, it must be worth something to you...now let's hear it!

[RevolutionaryActs]

41. Ok.

This is the first one I ever wrote, it's not very good. hehe



Hero's

Why do you hate
Why do we hurt
Why do you kill
Is this your will
There are no good knights
Tell me is this right
How can we keep this pace
When did this all become a race
You all want to get paid
But all that fades
Into zero
Now can you tell me where are
The hero’s?