It's Poetry Darlings

Re: It's Poetry Darlings!!

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Re: It's Poetry Darlings!!

"Steps" by Frank O'Hara

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End of Pier.

View of the sea.

Soul sitting in an armchair, listening, uncomfy
to her son reading the letter
Explaining Impossibility.

A letter to a girlfriend
He forgives the Jealousy
Or does he?
The rest I didn't understand

Nino rote, nino rota, nino laughs, nino curly
the best friend he might have had
the wizard wih the giant poppy

the pigs he was on their side
the Pope, he wasn't and blamed
and he also blamed TV
for making slaves of us all
ggogle-eyed, (long before google came to save us)

the sex questions he asked to all
All over Italy
Still docked to the Mother Ship and the Mother lode
Quarry

Pier, Paolo

Looking for riches and looking for rag
azzi
Courting the court, maybe
so many trials
can't be healthy

Did the pigs get him in the end
Did they eat him in the pigsty
where his funny face was found

I don't know
they switched exhibit P off
before I could find out


La Piu Bella Ragazza
She was unsure about her laugh

The sea was in view when
Pier
left
to roam forever


Pier,
Paolo,
Pasolini.

I heard his voice, in Italics.
herding Italy
la piu bella ragazza
the womb and the infinity


beckoning him
like me.
 
(Uccellaci e
Uccelini
Ulcer

Nino sings, people dive with their gold on

So many birds are without a home.

Birdy.)


And now you're coming home
Queen
Guilty...

and why, Paso doble, looking for a partner?
 
Thou Gloomy December by Robert Burns, 1791

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember-
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair!

Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure!

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown;
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Till my last hope and last comfort is gone.

Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair.

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q...&mid=B8414D625C286E7E23A0B8414D625C286E7E23A0
 
Haven't you got a country to go to?
I mean...A country
Who loves you?

I and Pasolini smile
I'm out of the Furnace
a good man still hard to find...
I sit in the grass with the glass and from there
Shoot you in the back,
No mercy.
Consumerism is shit He said, I agree
and that's all you'll ever be
Try to prove me wrong. lil Penguin, Honey.

You must know when you're not Wanted
and still you go to the wrong home
You probably think homme is where the
Sun is
It's absent.

and now you hear the voice and the wind.
And you're feeling
Uncomfy.

I'm not a sofa you recline on
A creature of habit you shot
doe-eyed

I have no Mercy.

Just ask...Pasolini.
Anno Domini
Dominus doma
Dogma

Who?

You're so lost
And voiceless


Nino, have you heard him sing?
Maria, you have, I know. Anna.
If their voices melt in the furnace
maybe I wouldn't have to shoot the breeze.

The wind cries.

Where will your body be found?
In a film in Italy.
In a dream theater maybe.
Where I won't be.

I use ammo and emo as I please...

And God, so much money. and guilt, still...(can't hide it)
SO. MUCH. MONEY.

You could buy all of Italy, and birds, and the Geneva lake
and you'd still be Looking.

lol...

Tiny
world.

WORD.

Innit?
The internet, my friends, is such a small place, where big egos are found
where Walter Mitty is on the cover of Life
where I'm invisible
busy reading symbolic stuff...

It's a dangerous country.
It's like, the South of Italy. (probably).

I was raised on Berlusconi tv.
You obviously couldn't tell
because I'm a very good blind shot...

Aaaah the South.
12 years a slave and more
and free
and found a keyboard to kill people with. As always...

Old 'Lini was made for people like...me.

Run!

in the end there was an Ostie
You don't know what an an ostie is
but you're still coming here.
lol, Christ, you live so dangerously.

Should I tell? Who, William? :D

Pasolini drew an Indian. Honest. I'm telling you...
 
Whenever I hear a good voice around
here
The voice of Good, the voice of Truth
I wonder how did that sheep get lost?

Blanketed in your smallpox of words
I erred
I listened to you

When it's obvious I was made to make tea for
Superior minds.

I could curtsey to.

Why did i get so lost?
when you were born to be my servant, I have no clue.

It's sheep I'm up against
Sheep I'll stand up for
because you still want


But, by Jove, i was obviously born
for so much more
and you stole
my role.

I can make coffeee too. For good men.

When are you going to tell them?
I am depending on you.

Birds everywhere, and no home
and no Master to go to

A Kestrel for a Knave
Fools Fly Forever.

Why did I have to pick a coward?

He can't even read. Unlike the rest of the crew :D

Mamma mia! Nah I'm joking. Be what you will, it doesn't matter
it's your Destiny, and mine is to be here
Making the tea.

You hate us anyway. Me and the sisters of no mercy, That's the British air way.
I'm not even tall enough to be a stewardess, anyway...

Le Petit Poucet is Destroyed. btw. Not my fault tho...

(Aaah the South. Aaah Gulliver. Not a very brainy lad...)

You're f.ed! Wrong destination. And this, you've always known. Glass Diana Doors! Ouch...Careful!

Birds, too busy singing, never saw the transparent coming...Pity ensued.
 
I'll forgive you
When you send flowers
to my mother
wishing her a swift recovery
for having me.

Do you understand?

You could be
a tiny bird in my hand
and I still wouldn't crush you
Do you understand?
Do you understand?

Tonight the dogs were out
Who let the dogs out?
they were protecting the President
And all i saw was their crazed sheperds eyes?

Do you understand?

In the underground

Yesterday I looked for the voice of your Pedigree pal
in despicable me
and all I could hear was you
begging me

Do you understand

Something's telling you
to wake up and salute
something is telling you and me

Do you understand?

Ampersand upon ampersand
Pasolini and George Sand
howling in my head

maybe.

Your mother and your maher
not being there forever
I understood

Something.

Did you understand?

I hope so.
Like the hopping bunny
never to be controlled
things will be made right

Hope is where the heart is
and it's still beating
maybe.

They were howling in my head, I had to say.

I still have to work tomorrow...Unlike PPP...So good night.



Of refusal. ;)
 
Haven't you got a country to go to?
I mean...A country
Who loves you?

I and Pasolini smile
I'm out of the Furnace
a good man still hard to find...
I sit in the grass with the glass and from there
Shoot you in the back,
No mercy.
Consumerism is shit He said, I agree
and that's all you'll ever be
Try to prove me wrong. lil Penguin, Honey.

You must know when you're not Wanted
and still you go to the wrong home
You probably think homme is where the
Sun is
It's absent.

and now you hear the voice and the wind.
And you're feeling
Uncomfy.

I'm not a sofa you recline on
A creature of habit you shot
doe-eyed

I have no Mercy.

Just ask...Pasolini.
Anno Domini
Dominus doma
Dogma

Who?

You're so lost
And voiceless


Nino, have you heard him sing?
Maria, you have, I know. Anna.
If their voices melt in the furnace
maybe I wouldn't have to shoot the breeze.

The wind cries.

Where will your body be found?
In a film in Italy.
In a dream theater maybe.
Where I won't be.

I use ammo and emo as I please...

And God, so much money. and guilt, still...(can't hide it)
SO. MUCH. MONEY.

You could buy all of Italy, and birds, and the Geneva lake
and you'd still be Looking.

lol...

Tiny
world.

WORD.

Innit?
The internet, my friends, is such a small place, where big egos are found
where Walter Mitty is on the cover of Life
where I'm invisible
busy reading symbolic stuff...

It's a dangerous country.
It's like, the South of Italy. (probably).

I was raised on Berlusconi tv.
You obviously couldn't tell
because I'm a very good blind shot...

Aaaah the South.
12 years a slave and more
and free
and found a keyboard to kill people with. As always...

Old 'Lini was made for people like...me.

Run!

in the end there was an Ostie
You don't know what an an ostie is
but you're still coming here.
lol, Christ, you live so dangerously.

Should I tell? Who, William? :D

Pasolini drew an Indian. Honest. I'm telling you...

I'll see your crappy poetry and raise you a prince.

1560587_1601974949850403_77821672_n.jpg
 
Ode to a Tit

There once was a pseud on a forum
Who really knew how to bore 'em
She worked in a kitchen
So no one would listen
When she lectured on intellectual decorum
 
Ode to a Forum Star

Barney Barney
All teeth askew
Shabby and neat

Barney Barney
In the backseat
Baby I'd let you drive
my scar

Barney barney you're a star
having a poo
Or just chilling out
In the Californian sun
lucky you

Barney Barney
Barney summer
I bet you really can sing, too

Barney you seem to get on well with all the pals thrown in your paws
But
Barney if our eyes met
Would you disapprove
Because you've always known
All the best people are dogs?

And I don't need to justify

Do you see signs?

Barneybarney
I may be barmy
But you are justified and
ancient
and I love you.

Like I love all creatures.

Barney Barney
you're not a dinosaur
you're the people's puppy

show Me.

:)

Nigerian Uncle scam!
 
Switzerland
It's a country
All apparent neutrality
Like the hairs covering Barney's face

Its so goddam cheesy
Switzerland
It's boring too

Well a bit

And I'm right next to it

They do excel at chocolate
...respect where respect is due

Have you seen dead sno?
You should
Switzerland where all zombies go
All these stolen jewels aren't yours
and they won't
protect you.
 
do
you
really
think
i'm
stupid
enough
to
think
morrissey
reads
and
writes
crappy
poetry
on
solo
?
 
It's hard to read a crap book by mistake.
Crap books usually bombastically announce themselves

so that if literary crap is not your cup of tea
you don't buy or read it or step in it. Easy.

It's all a matter of style, really.
Which do you prefer?
The machine gun? OR

Faced with something so large, vain and dense
the sleepy sniper has little choice:
here's the bow and arrow of crappy poetry


It's crap, but short and free
so easily read by mistake,
...as you can see. ;)

...The way we write is like the way we go potty
You take your own shit so seriously

You can dress a turd in a tuxedo, give it a literary award, show it on tv

there are still people who will prefer thinking of haikus
in the loo.I know a few.
Toilet roll call.
 
I'll never forget
when you lit me up
and pulled the Maisey
out of me
With crappy poetry.

I thought I'd be saved
The next day
 
Post Your Poetry!

Here's one I had written as a bitter 14 year old :lbf:
I destroyed most of my writing from that time due to embarrassment! This is the only one that I kept.

Simpletons


They sit with their sappy faces fused to the back seat,
walking advertisements with billboards on their backs.
Their identical jeans hover around their ankles,
while the latest 'song' blasts out of their pockets.

They.
All.
Sound.
The.
Same.
To.
Me.

Some have curtain hooks hanging from their ears,
the type that paint their faces like clowns,
ready to point with the alienation finger.
They'd say 'conformity is compulsory' - if they knew what it meant.

Simpletons.
 
Last edited:
Maryna
In September, for the first day
you had dressed
like a greek goddess
and you smiled.

Today I know the strength
you have inside
smiling when people died around you
like flies
you never said

Hold tight to your petals
blowing
in a malcontent wind.

You're a beautiful child of love, and peace
Your mum is proud of you
I am glad in a sad way
too.
 
The Souvenirs

Since I can't talk to you any other way
I'll just say this now, and delete it in the morning,
and I doubt that anyone will read this between now and then anyway,
and you probably won't either, but just in case,
and don't worry this will never end up in a zine,
but anyway as you know
I always avoid going into your work whenever you are there,
if I can help it,
anyway today was that show and I had to stop and get a coffee,
well I didn't have to but I knew it would make me
feel more comfortable there
if I had something to hold,
so I decided to get a coffee,
now the thing is that about three hours earlier,
before I'd even decided to go to the show
or remembered that it was taking place today at all

I went to take a shower and I
randomly picked a flannel shirt out of my closet,
one I hadn't worn in months,
and got dressed
and went about my day
and f***ed around online
and remembered the show
and I had nothing else to do
and I never leave the house
so I figured what the hell why not
but then the inherent pitfall in the prospect
of the whole coffee-getting-thing beforehand
occurred to me,
(I hem and haw about these things for hours, days, eons)
but then I figured, ah, there's a only a 50 percent chance
she'll be there anyway
and what the hell
I'm almost 38, I can take it
and Jesus Christ it's been five months now,
I really need to get over it
(and I am for the most part, I swear)

but then I realized that the shirt I had on,
that flannel I'd randomly picked,
wasn't too flattering
and I decided to change it because who knows
but if there might be
a desperate unloved girl at the show
willing to settle for a balding loser
in his late 30s,
so I had to look my best

and as I was taking the shirt off to hang it back up
and exchange it for another
I noticed something in the left front pocket
and it felt like money
but when I put my hand in to retrieve it,
it wasn't money,
it was two ticket stubs

from October 20, 2013

Carrie, Showplace 16,
8:30 PM

shit.

Oh, the universe
and all its little
"f*** you, Aarons"...

and so anyway 35 minutes later
when I walked past you
to the counter
to order my coffee
as you were vacuuming
and I awkwardly waved hello to you
I had just walked there
from home
and had dreaded such an encounter
the entire
time;
and sure enough I got it

just thought you
should know

and like I said
I'll delete this
in the morning,

unless I change my mind
like you did,
of course.
 
The Souvenirs

Since I can't talk to you any other way
I'll just say this now, and delete it in the morning,
and I doubt that anyone will read this between now and then anyway,
and you probably won't either, but just in case,
and don't worry this will never end up in a zine,
but anyway as you know
I always avoid going into your work whenever you are there,
if I can help it,
anyway today was that show and I had to stop and get a coffee,
well I didn't have to but I knew it would make me
feel more comfortable there
if I had something to hold,
so I decided to get a coffee,
now the thing is that about three hours earlier,
before I'd even decided to go to the show
or remembered that it was taking place today at all

I went to take a shower and I
randomly picked a flannel shirt out of my closet,
one I hadn't worn in months,
and got dressed
and went about my day
and f***ed around online
and remembered the show
and I had nothing else to do
and I never leave the house
so I figured what the hell why not
but then the inherent pitfall in the prospect
of the whole coffee-getting-thing beforehand
occurred to me,
(I hem and haw about these things for hours, days, eons)
but then I figured, ah, there's a only a 50 percent chance
she'll be there anyway
and what the hell
I'm almost 38, I can take it
and Jesus Christ it's been five months now,
I really need to get over it
(and I am for the most part, I swear)

but then I realized that the shirt I had on,
that flannel I'd randomly picked,
wasn't too flattering
and I decided to change it because who knows
but if there might be
a desperate unloved girl at the show
willing to settle for a balding loser
in his late 30s,
so I had to look my best

and as I was taking the shirt off to hang it back up
and exchange it for another
I noticed something in the left front pocket
and it felt like money
but when I put my hand in to retrieve it,
it wasn't money,
it was two ticket stubs

from October 20, 2013

Carrie, Showplace 16,
8:30 PM

shit.

Oh, the universe
and all its little
"f*** you, Aarons"...

and so anyway 35 minutes later
when I walked past you
to the counter
to order my coffee
as you were vacuuming
and I awkwardly waved hello to you
I had just walked there
from home
and had dreaded such an encounter
the entire
time;
and sure enough I got it

just thought you
should know

and like I said
I'll delete this
in the morning,

unless I change my mind
like you did,
of course.

A f***ing MASTERPIECE.
 
The Souvenirs

Since I can't talk to you any other way
I'll just say this now, and delete it in the morning,
and I doubt that anyone will read this between now and then anyway,
and you probably won't either, but just in case,
and don't worry this will never end up in a zine,
but anyway as you know
I always avoid going into your work whenever you are there,
if I can help it,
anyway today was that show and I had to stop and get a coffee,
well I didn't have to but I knew it would make me
feel more comfortable there
if I had something to hold,
so I decided to get a coffee,
now the thing is that about three hours earlier,
before I'd even decided to go to the show
or remembered that it was taking place today at all

I went to take a shower and I
randomly picked a flannel shirt out of my closet,
one I hadn't worn in months,
and got dressed
and went about my day
and f***ed around online
and remembered the show
and I had nothing else to do
and I never leave the house
so I figured what the hell why not
but then the inherent pitfall in the prospect
of the whole coffee-getting-thing beforehand
occurred to me,
(I hem and haw about these things for hours, days, eons)
but then I figured, ah, there's a only a 50 percent chance
she'll be there anyway
and what the hell
I'm almost 38, I can take it
and Jesus Christ it's been five months now,
I really need to get over it
(and I am for the most part, I swear)

but then I realized that the shirt I had on,
that flannel I'd randomly picked,
wasn't too flattering
and I decided to change it because who knows
but if there might be
a desperate unloved girl at the show
willing to settle for a balding loser
in his late 30s,
so I had to look my best

and as I was taking the shirt off to hang it back up
and exchange it for another
I noticed something in the left front pocket
and it felt like money
but when I put my hand in to retrieve it,
it wasn't money,
it was two ticket stubs

from October 20, 2013

Carrie, Showplace 16,
8:30 PM

shit.

Oh, the universe
and all its little
"f*** you, Aarons"...

and so anyway 35 minutes later
when I walked past you
to the counter
to order my coffee
as you were vacuuming
and I awkwardly waved hello to you
I had just walked there
from home
and had dreaded such an encounter
the entire
time;
and sure enough I got it

just thought you
should know

and like I said
I'll delete this
in the morning,

unless I change my mind
like you did,
of course.

Glad you didn't delete it this morning. Haha.

Very nice. Love your style. Creates a wonderful image and carries you along.

- - - Updated - - -

A f***ing MASTERPIECE.

Yes. Absolutely brilliant. ;)
 
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