Poems

[Lagonid]

of course who can forget this poem by Yeghishe Charents

Yes im Anoush Hayasdani
Arevaham barnem siroum
Mer hin sazi voghpanvak
Latsagoumats larnem siroum

....

with the voice of badalian in the backround, oghi-i kavat me, meg bnag khorovadz

and Ararat in front of you
ok i'm gonna stop now

[spiral]

Edwin Arlington Robinson. 1869–

45. Richard Corey

WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

[Anonymouse]

Originally posted by spiral Edwin Arlington Robinson. 1869–

45. Richard Corey

WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

How beautiful with a moral insight.

Aye, it reminds me of my life and how my deddy shot me head with a bullet. I lived but I took some minor damages.

[spiral]

what moral insight did you get out of it?

[Anonymouse]

Retards have it easier so I'll spare telling you the moral insight and continue to revell in how retarded I am.

I'd rather not take that next step into the world of morals. I do know a few Marals.

[SexyAries]

LOVE is anterior to life,
Posterior to death,
Initial of creation, and
The exponent of breath.

Emily xxxxenson

[loseyourname]

Sorry guys. You mentioned Ginsburg and I have no choice. Spiral is going to kill me.

Allen Ginsburg - Please Master

please master can i touch your cheek
please master can i kneel at your feet
please master can i loosen your blue pants
please master can i gaze at your golden haired belly
please master can i gently take down your shorts
please master can i have your thighs bare to my eyes
please master can i take off my clothes below your chair
please master can i kiss your ankles and soul
please master can i touch lips to your hard muscle hairless thigh
please master can i lay my ear pressed to your stomach
please master can i wrap my arms around your white ass
please master can i lick your groin curled with blond soft fur
please master can i touch my tongue to your rosy xxxxxxx
please master may i pass my face to your balls,
please master, please look into my eyes,
please master order me down on the floor,
please master tell me to lick your thick shaft
please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull
please master press my mouth to your prick-heart
please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strongly thumbed
till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base
till i swallow & taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please
Master push my shoulders away and stare in my eye & make me bend over the table
please master grab my thighs and lift my ass to your waist
please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down my backside
please master push me up, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of your
spit and your thumb stroke
please master make me say Please Master xxxx me now Please
Master grease my balls and hairmouth with sweet vaselines
please master stroke your shaft with white creams
please master touch your xxxx head to my wrinkled self hole
please master push it in gently, your elbows enwrapped round my breast
your arms passing down to my belly, my penis you touch w/ your finger
please master shove it in me a little, a little, a little,
please master sink your droor thing down my behind
& please master make me wiggle my rear to eat up the prick trunk
till my asshalfs cuddle your thighs, my back bent over,
till i'm alone sticking out, your sword stuck throbbing in me
please master pull out and slowly roll into the bottom
please master lunge it in again, and withdraw to the tip
please please master xxxx me again with your self, please xxxx me Please
Master drive down till it hurts me the softness the
Softness please master make love to my ass, give body to center & xxxx me for good
like a girl
tenderly clasp me please master i take me to Thee,
please master & drive in my belly your selfsame sweet heat-rood
you fingered in solitude Denver or Brooklyn or xxxxed in a maiden in Paris carlots,
please master drive me thy vehicle, body of love drops, of sweat xxxx,
body of tenderness, give me your dog xxxx faster
please master make me go moan on the table
go moan O please master do xxxx me like that
in your rhythm thrill plunge & pull-back-bounce & push down
till i loosen my xxxxxxx a dog on the table yelping with terror and delight to be loved
Please master call me a dog, an ass beast, a wet xxxxxxx,
& xxxx me more violent, my eyes hid with your palms round my skull
& plunge down in a brutal hard lash thru soft drip-fish
& throb through five seconds to spurt out your semen heat
over & over, bamming it in while i cry out your name i do love you
please Master

[loseyourname]

Wrote this one myself . . .

Learning to Dance

The creak of the gothic door is distant
as she sighs "I can't remember"
in her little white t-shirt,
"Heartbreaker" written blood-like across her breast.
Black spandex clings like an adoring mouth to her flooded-nile thighs.
The sway of her hips rolls tectonic shockwaves through
the creaking balls of my wrists,
memories jolting nerve-endings in electron ecstasy
as her fingernail slowly scratched my forearm.
Her skin is darker now, the color of a
champagne car left out in the sun too long.
Siren hair dances down her face
like music-box ballerinas - visually, she is
the princess that she always thought she'd be.
The light of the morning sun lays baffled in her corneas,
floating to the back of my mind.
We spin together into headlong oblivion,
one more time . . . one last time.
All the while my bones ache and my muscles shed blue tears,
watching her tiny bare feet grip the hardwood,
unadorned and white like the teenage girl I remember
breathing in-sync with when we used to fall asleep together.

[loseyourname]

After the Reading

by ME

Frantic heads lay bobbing and nodding and praising
above the ocean of their melding bodies, damned in
by the table where the copy is sold.
Queen Triton sits, baton in mouth
like the staff that parted the Red Sea,
directing "oohs" and "aahs"
and chords of echoless laughter,
flitered through glass-pane ad boards
proclaiming "How to be a Chicana Role Model."
Paperbacks lay strewn like driftwood
into purple plastic buckets, drooping
and lonely, melting from atop the makeshift cashbox.
The choppiness of her bangs
falling onto her sunlit forehead -
the length of her dimples,
wrinkled nose,
and squint-eyed knowing smile,
warm like a wood-burning stove -
that's what I'll remember, not her spoken art.

Is this what it takes?
I'm no Chicana,
certainly no role model.
Perhaps if I chop up my big words
into colloquial roots (xxxx, I can't use a word like colloquial).
Is this how it's done?
Will they gather for me,
dictionaries in hand,
along with a copy of Bulfinch's Mythology for reference,
poised to tackle the subconscious product of my fingertips?
Will they be willing to inhale the gas-stream
flowing from my hatch-valved throat?
Will they be prepared to clap at
"The Early Morning Ruminations of an Octogenarian?"
Or am I hopeless outdated,
Chuck Close in an Anne Geddes world?

[jahannam]

Originally posted by ckBejug Here you go.... I hope you guys can read my Armenian.

umm so you guys' favorite poem is one that promotes gambling?
lol
apparently you haven't read enough POETRY!
yes.. I'm referring to "yete"