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Poetry Corner

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  • Wow, Emil jan you are such a darn romantic! I am here, search no more, you can look into my eyes and tell me all you want, I will stay and try not to push you away. That is as long as you respect my very sacred relationship with my PCs, that is my alone time with them. And I'll give you not one but three chances to show me how you can reach those spires, but don't wait until the time expires.

    Comment


    • This is an interesting mind expanding and warping experience full of transcendental transcience that emil has experienced in his words of potence.
      Achkerov kute.

      Comment


      • when will we stop trying to capture
        the world in poetry and instead
        focus on the world as it is as we are
        as it exists no exits no rhymes
        just confusion and chaotic mimes
        pointless talks and cahtroom phrases
        horny cults and beer cases
        trying slapping focking spitting
        turning around in a world falling
        apart bit by bit apart human by human
        apart heart by heart
        dangerous art paint new paintings
        burn new buildings kill a person
        make a coffin drink some coffee
        choose carefree and youre free
        not the gum by the lifestyle
        get online and pretend you smile
        when youre offline walk a mile
        burn some fat you armenophile
        offering overrated prices on regurgitated topics
        and jokes which thought provokes
        to pointless places visited a thousand times before
        my mind is numb i post on a forum
        shut up and let me post my stuff in sanctum
        Last edited by Mr. Peabody; 03-05-2004, 07:30 PM.

        Comment


        • Peabody is just another anybody nobody
          Looking for that body to feel like a somebody
          You may have a body and you bought "e"
          And you stuffed it in your brain thats a pea
          Pea merges with body and you have peabody
          Just another somebody, dancing tango with nobody
          Anybody hear this nobody? This nobody
          With a damaged body no mind what does he embody
          But a pea stuck in a body he desires like everybody
          To move from being an anybody, to be a somebody
          Even better to be a someone
          One ahead of the body, before he hadn't one
          Then we can feel like he won
          The Sum of Body and One makes you Someone
          Not just a name with a Pea and a Body
          Making poetry as he claims to not make poetry
          Because he is trapped in the body
          Like every body else forced to make poetry
          Thinking, like everybody else, he is a sum one.
          Achkerov kute.

          Comment


          • On Modern Art and Poetry
            A Post-Modern, Post-Colonial Parody of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "How Do I Love Thee?"
            Inspired by the Dadaist writing of Dionne Brand

            How do I abhor thee? Let me count the ways
            I abhor thee to the depth and breadth and height
            My soul can't understand, when reading those poems
            For the ends of pointless Art and non-ideal Beauty.
            I abhor thee to the level of everyday's
            Most loud unnecessity, by fluorescent or regular lamps.
            I abhor thee politically incorrectly, as men strive against it;
            I abhor thee impurely, as they turn from Artistic Beauty to Dadaism.
            I abhor thee with the passivity put to no use
            In my old griefs of struggling to understand the meaning behind a Dionne Brand poem, and with my adult patience.
            I abhor thee with a hatred I seemed to lose
            With my gained saints of post-colonial, post-modernist literature,--I abhor thee with the bad breath,
            Fake smiles, tears of anger, of all my life!--and, if the Devil choose,
            I shall but abhor thee better after death, in that hell to which all of my kind are condemned.

            ©Plagiaright Dan Marsden. No Rights Reserved.
            Last edited by Darorinag; 03-05-2004, 08:08 PM.

            Comment


            • Did you write that? That's really good
              If you didn't, well, you should
              for this poetry corner is only for those
              who display their poetry and prose
              Achkerov kute.

              Comment


              • I did write that, and what is more,
                It was a parody in the style of a wh0re.
                But rest assured, I am in awe
                Of Dionne Brand and her ego.

                Comment


                • Originally posted by Anonymouse Did you write that? That's really good
                  If you didn't, well, you should
                  for this poetry corner is only for those
                  who display their poetry and prose
                  Nice Anon, words of wisdom you speak.

                  Comment


                  • Tribute to Dionne Brand

                    Sitting here at my desk, I wonder if there is any meaning to poetry--
                    I wonder if I can ever grasp the feelings behind it;
                    All I can see in it are zeroes and ones,
                    Industrialised, economised beauty,
                    Ugliness as representative of beauty,
                    Idiocy as representative of sensitivity,
                    Degeneracy as representative of genius.

                    I dig out my books on Byron, Shelley, Keats,
                    And place them face to face with Dionne Brand's vision of new poetry,
                    And the Byron poetry shrivels up and dies.
                    I try to revive it, and for a moment I think I am successful;
                    With a solemn look, The Prisoner of Chillon sits up,
                    Sighs deeply, shudders, and breathes its last.

                    Henceforth, hundreds of uber-romantic poets as they are referred to now
                    Have been taken off curricula, off shelves,
                    Into the attics of lost memories, of a period of feminised idealism,
                    Of beauty in romanticism that ceased to exist after the outburst of instrustialism,
                    And the exchange of gibberish between the literatures of peoples
                    Who would've never seen each other or heard each other's language.
                    Reclaiming poetry has become impossible.
                    Dionne Brand has the key to the trunk, and she swallowed it;
                    It will take generations of "typical Anglo-Saxon" men as Barbara Hall would name them in a self-hating moment,
                    To look through sewers inhabited by the filth of generations,
                    To find that key, that key to the past
                    With all its beauty and innocence and idealism...

                    Comment


                    • Boredom cries
                      super sized fries
                      Time flies we blink
                      Veins swollen we drink
                      Blood flowin’ we think
                      Tylenol calisthenics
                      Love addicted ethics
                      Stress inlaid
                      Financial aid
                      Prepaid package plan made
                      Pushing fashion without passion
                      For hazy futures without structures
                      Stress cultured creatures
                      Marketable features
                      Blurring mind’s eye
                      Conscience cry
                      Self destruction without function
                      Determination with a passion
                      Framework masses and amasses
                      The gathering of the masses
                      Can’t see with glasses
                      Distributed demographic
                      Want to be so democratic
                      Cast votes with heart
                      And call it art
                      Fall in love
                      And kill a dove
                      Full of madness corrupted gladness
                      Clueless progress
                      I confess that I possess
                      Animated aspirations
                      In a heart of transmutations
                      Flirting fiddling with a fiddle
                      Forming fading like a fossil
                      Painting dogma with some vodka
                      Travel far without a visa
                      Rediscover karma sutra
                      Hold hands high and spit at the sky
                      Birthday surprise without a prize
                      Soulless skies with no disguise
                      I love you bad rhymes
                      I hope you realize
                      Sublime words to memorize
                      Mesmerize to apprise
                      Dream to sleep lost in the deep
                      Can’t hit snooze for the musical breakthroughs
                      Read a book your mind is shook
                      Turn around and have a look
                      Going endless over and under
                      Endlessly we’re torn asunder
                      Broken pieces stress decreases
                      Masturbation stress releases
                      Holiday and Hollywood
                      In a world misunderstood
                      Different thoughts and different schools
                      Forget about that clubbing rules
                      Lookin’ trendy is too cool
                      Otherwise you are a fool
                      Equal opportunity
                      Brings about conformity
                      Trust no one negate it all
                      From girl power to city hall
                      Laff inside but not aloud
                      Thinking freely not allowed
                      Awful parent so transparent
                      Break your TV screw the news
                      Read about movies in reviews
                      Forget about all that’s real
                      It’s all about the dream ideal
                      I deal cards like ideal deals
                      I test your mind on what you feel
                      Insisting on resisting
                      Denying what is tempting
                      Finding yourself coerced
                      We find we’re last and never first
                      Quenching a beer thirst
                      The Elohim returns
                      Humanity stuck at u-turns
                      Take a breath can you smell death?
                      Achkerov kute.

                      Comment

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