Bad Poets' Society's topics - tribe.net

Bagging the Cat's Hands

2008-05-06T21:25:23Z

The faint anticipation of a clown arisen from of a small car on stilt legs
Obsessively compulsively imagining the unraveling
A virtually soft fish hook unspools
He elevates his dirt above the dirt
gagging on that Saint Christopher medal like dry swallowing a mega B vitamin for the first time
it's the fear that is the pep erasing the ignorance of the outcome that will happen like it's happening again
this banquet of perpetual surprise already an open book
He unknowingly brings a copy of his receipt to the doctors office
An electronic alimentary device reveals the sharp outline of a shampoo bottle

Don't tell me you're surprised
Your eyes betray you

Whisked out the back door like a celebrity hidden from the paparazzi
Someone has already given a nickname to this minor operation
The repressed memory is the one remembered best
Fished from his being like ambergris from a whale skull

Picture the water connoisseur wrinkling his nose at its mythic unremarkableness
Somewhere, the back seat of a ford tempo is overflowing with broken plastic laundry baskets

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 9 replies

Hear is a bad poem about this girl I know

2008-05-03T04:41:26Z

Oh for the grains to make such a new dame
I'd put myself and you to shame.
All it would take would be just one kiss,
presented in a concert hall,
set to a tune of irony and slapstick ballyhoo.
But alas, the stage was not made for two mutants like us--
two waddling wayfarers unnanounceable because of our nation's trade.
Perhaps if we met at the parade,
Getting lost in the marching band, composing and conducting our own irhythmic display,
We could whirl past them in a daze of unnacountable desire,
And, in your case, deserved retreat,
A duet of spectral enmity,
A divinity without harmony
For the band to use as its base.
The creation of confirmation is the job of two rested hearts,
But it is consummation that I am after,
And that can only be created with the fortitude of one.
And my fortitude, I'm afraid, is locked away in a different tube--
The one that moves from my arm to my wrist to my hand to my pen to this page here--this place that I've come to divine to be the only wall for my tears.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

"I've Got Class"

2008-04-25T20:33:08Z

I’ve got class
But I pick my ass
I rove the town
And search for crowns
It’s easy to see
That when I pee
I’m easily amused
And so damn confused.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Rhyme gone wrong AKA Word salad AKA Sweet mother of Turd

2008-03-30T06:29:59Z

These words sound alike
So I can mash them together, no doubt!
They close the holes in the dike
Which is all I care about

Rhyming words is so much fun
Although pretty much an art,
it's like one bullet in a gun:
the strain will tear you apart

Dear rhyme, I love you so
You smell and waft and stink
yet make my face aglow
like a rock hard drink

Oh sweet salad of word!
Let me toss and dress you
to the consistency of a turd
and dump you like one too

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 8 replies

My Winnebago and I

2008-03-30T06:28:08Z

We cruise into the hills of san modesto
My Winnebago and I
away from the cell phones
the madness signals from work
the screeching voice in my ear telling me to do something
without a care
for the bald tires
this old horse is my ren faire stallion
clanking up hills nonstop pinging dulcimer music
it's a survivor
like me

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 9 replies

Quotidian Pros

2008-03-26T01:45:50Z

Quotidian Pros
I am your derrailleur
Tasty meets
Raw fish
Pearl
Oysters
Cannonball Run

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 6 replies

PHANTOMS

2008-03-24T08:40:34Z

Psychic vampires wanting what they can never permanently have
Attempt to hold on to something once briefly held
In your back they will stab
Fantastic party people of the past have slipped away into obscurity
Living like solitary hermits in their chosen prison cell
Keeping in touch with friends in e-mails
This can never replace actually spending time together
Masses of phantoms wandering aimlessly, righteously prioritizing their illusory lives
And for what endeavors do we all strive
The lunacy of obligatory & compulsory selfishness
contradictory hipocrisy reigns supreme
In the land of those that pretend to be living
Dead phantoms dominate the landscape
Haunted phantoms
Dead, haunted, sad, miserable, phantoms full of despair.
Haunted phantoms walk in the darkness grasping for the light that is but a dream
They hope and pray for something that's not there.
These haunted phantoms

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 10 replies

The bird on my head

2008-03-24T01:46:22Z

The bird on my head
Is laughing at me,
For what it is about to do
Is beyond my control.

With my hands and feet
Tied together for extra security,
The lunch I was promised
Is beyond reach.

A boca burger with soy cheese
And a side order of rings
Is laughing at me,
Knowing what I cannot do.

And the hunger kills
I haven't eaten in three days,
Here with the bird on my head
looking at my lunch.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

Abyss of Plucking Clucking Pain

2008-03-22T02:52:41Z

What retched hopeless pain I beseech to end
If I only I could defend
My emotions from fowl friends
Those hens poking my hart again and again !

Yet I find I can abolish them by plucking them
Yes that will show them
I will deplume there backs ahem!
And rise out of this abyss and yell out with phlegm

“You chickens can not longer stop my life goal
because I know the removal
of feathers swiftly from your laurels
will brake your pecking order of loose morals!”

And all the plucking and clucking comes to and end
Amen!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

Oh That Walmart

2008-03-20T21:27:55Z

Start with shopping cart
Take it down aisles fast as a dart
Pick out bargains sure is smart
I love shopping at Walmart

Get bike parts
and pop tarts
and use the eye chart
I love shopping at Walmart

You can get there on BART
And to be shy about your wart
Nobody cares at Wallmart

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 3 replies

Still High

2008-03-15T06:36:58Z

Ok guyz, its like FRIday
And i like no one to talk too.
The walls are closin in,
Just me, my computer and
Everything else I can see from here,
Friends with more information that
I could pssible need.
My heart racing, passion
burning from the pictures
in my eyes.
A reflection of what I see
Can only be
another reflection of
Another reflection
Of what I see
Something tells me I'm
Hungry, but move not
Another hour on tribe has begun,
I rumble forward.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

High

2008-03-15T04:31:21Z

I am new here and how bad needs the poem to be.
Can see several in my head,
But on paper in words
There they never show their faces.
I look and look,
Its them I cannot find.
Out the window and
Though the heavy wood,
The chase remains empty.
Alone.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

Euphemy, thy name is Fnord

2008-03-14T23:27:15Z

Euphemy, thy name is Fnord
whose truer name we shant' afford
to write, to read, to think untoward;
unsung, unspoken qualium of the horde.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 3 replies

Stack That Smack

2008-03-13T05:05:13Z

Nick nack patty wack just gimme a smack
Bend me over your knee as I wiggle with glee
Arching mah back aim em right at mah crack
Feeling your bone oh it makes me moannnn
Daddy’s got the knack to Stack that smack
Once more Twice more

Smack!……..Smack!………Smack!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

What's in a Poem? AKA Clever Rhyme AKA Poem for a Dime

2008-03-04T08:21:41Z

Oh no! How to start?!
What will my subject be?!
Does it need thinking on my part,
or just inspiration flowing free?!

With my head in my hands I sit
My blank eyes glare at the paper
"Why do my words never fit?!",
seems to be my auto-prayer

The time has come
I will swallow my pride
I will finally succumb
And turn to thee, the ever denied

"May I see with my soul
and write with my heart
May You close my dog's asshole
and liberate me from it's fart"

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 6 replies

Teeming swarms

2008-03-04T08:20:52Z

Billions
Saprobic
In the arm pits
Of my cotton-poly pocketed crew neck pull-over.

Hosiery home
Haven for heterotrophs
A universe unto itself
My casual-comfort mid calf sock.

We are together.
A symbiotic odorous ensemble.
A week of yellow shit storms
Maybe.
Escherichia coli polyester!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 10 replies

Because I'm so cool

2008-02-27T18:14:37Z

I suck
Because all I can do is comment
And I won't write poetry

But, boy, can I comment on others bad poetry
Because I'm so cool
I suck

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 5 replies

my thoughts on the eve

2007-11-28T21:01:05Z

How do I describe the feeling of close ness to the goddess part in me?
And all that died prier to me in the name of that goddess and the horned god
I feel a great obligation to thoughts before me
When I can speak freely on this subject without the religious persecution that they had
So when I enter in to this eve it is with great respect, honor and joy of my new year
To be with thoughts that has past
To have a open ceremony out side with a big fire and play
My drum loud and dance my spirit with freedom and a open hart

blessing ETERNAL

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 5 replies

untitled

2007-10-24T22:43:38Z

Dearest cry this refrain and my cry will shake you:

I am above integrity.

The woman about to dismount,
who pursued management attention over our best ideas,
won't use up her passion.

She won't quite integrate information and can't ever break attitude.

She never opened her strategy briefs.

If we air everything there is, we could pick some better leadership.

While some other brother preyed on kind behavior,
he who easily conquered mystery points out a fuller bra,
never feeling which women want lovelier anatomies; loving nothing.

Why want for such lonely competition?

God will rain chaos on your smoothest schemes by Spring.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 3 replies

amerikkkans on vacation...

2007-09-22T20:24:56Z

AMERICAN ON VACATION

YOU'VE COME ALL THE WAY
FROM THE USA
TO A PLACE WHERE YOU CAN PRETEND
THAT IT'S THE GOOD OLD DAYS

IN A FOREIGN LAND
YOU'RE THE AMERICAN
BUT EVERYONE KNOWS
YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER WHITE MAN

EUROPEAN IN THE WATER
YOU'RE A SHITTIN IN THE STREAM
YOU'RE A WHOLE DAMN RACE
OF KILLING MACHINES

FLOOD THE ECONOMY
WITH YOUR DOLLAR BILLS
AND SPREAD DISEASE
WITH YOUR POTIONS AND PILLS

BUILDING BIG HOTELS
SO YOU CAN COME AND STAY
BUT YOU WANT TO WALK
THROUGH SHANTY TOWN
WHEN IT'S TIME TO PLAY

YOU AND YOUR WOMAN
SO CREAMY AND WHITE
YOU SCARE THE PICKNEY
WHEN YOU STROLL ABOUT AT NIGHT

A KU KLUX KLANSMAN
WITHOUT HIS HOOD
LOOKING FOR SOME KICKS
AND UP TO NO GOOD

YOU THINK YOU'RE SUPERMAN
WITHOUT HIS CAPE
LOOKING FOR ANOTHER
HOUSEMAID TO RAPE

YOUR WOMAN, WELL
SHE'S LOOKING FOR
A BIG BLACK DICK
CAUSE SHE'S TIRED
OF HAVING HER PUSSY LICKED

SO YOU COME TO MY COUNTRY
TO LIE IN THE SUN
PROTECTED BY SOLDIERS
WITH MACHINE GUNS

NOW YOU'RE FLYING AWAY
ON A BIG JET PLANE
BECAUSE YOU'RE TIRED
OF PLAYING TARZAN AND JANE

AND I'M LEFT
WORSE OFF THAN I EVER WAS
YOU'VE NO IDEA
WHAT YOUR VACATION REALLY DOES

SEXUAL DISEASES
THAT WE'VE NEVER SEEN
AND A GENERATION BRAINWASHED
BY THE AMERICAN DREAM

A WHOLE LEGACY OF SELF HATE
ACTING FIRST CLASS
AND TREATING ME
AS SECOND RATE

ESPOUSING THE VIRTUES
OF DEMOCRACY
BUT IN PRACTICE
IT'S THE SAME RACIST IDEOLOGY

IF I ACT IN YOUR COUNTRY
LIKE YOU DO IN MINE
YOU'D PUT ME IN JAIL
FOR COMMITTING A CRIME

YOU BUILD BIG HOTELS
WHERE I CAN STAY
FOR NINETY-NINE YEARS
AND A FUCKING DAY

AND IF I WALK
THROUGH YOUR PART OF TOWN
POLICEMEN COME
AND BEAT ME DOWN

YOU'VE GOT YOUR HOOD
AND YOU'VE GOT YOUR CAPE
AND YOU'RE READY TO LYNCH
CAUSE YOUR BITCHES CRY RAPE

BUT FOR REAL
RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION
JUST ASK ANY NATIVE
ABOUT AMERICANS ON VACATION

copyrightdjones1996

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 9 replies

My Thoughts On Ovulation

2007-09-20T06:53:18Z

Like a fat kid spoons mayonnaise Colligenase ate away my follicle’s membrane. Oocyte outbreak amid a mid-cycle surge the Gaps clamped cAMP and urged production of PAP. Swollen full of liquor folliculli pressed up on the very hydrostatic TOP, all Ovum needed was a smooth prostaglandin POP and push to send her spiraling down down down my fallopian tube eloping fast past proliferating pussy glands bumping over oviduct folds ciallatingly swept away leaving behind ol’ corpus luteum in search of that one and only sperm who will take this little embryo to term.

~Bad Poetry flowed out of my uterus this month~

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

free online poetry contest....

2007-08-26T16:11:16Z

grand prize is $10,000!

http://www.poetry.com/contest/contest.asp?Suite=A67901-12449

just in case there are any GOOD poets here :-)

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

blazing saddles

2007-07-16T14:34:32Z

As i sat at the table a looking at peas and beans
my mind went to the wind so it seamed
my friend so polished asked
guess what we will be doing this time tomorrow
"blowing off?"...and mine won't be borrowed
the mental equation seemed rough at the table
as we paused for a brief moment for a different label
in any case it seemed suitable for the food prepared in front of the eyes
a chastening after the wind could never be disguised
silence came over the room, conversation, no-one dabbled
and as I lifted myself off chair I remembered blazing saddles

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

Good Boy

2007-07-04T22:01:34Z

I felt dirty
incredibly filthy
but taking a shower
is way too much work
and I thought of something
that made me curious

My dog is a good boy
a Dobermann of the purest pedigree
and before I knew it
It hid its nose
right between my legs

And I thought to myself:
this really makes sense
cause there are more bacteria
in the water
than in the mouth of a dog

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 8 replies

New tribe

2007-04-19T11:59:03Z

http://tribes.tribe.net/revolutionizedversion1/tribeallposts?action=DeleteTopic&topicid=32d3232d-5d53-4286-94db-feafa3edca22

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

no fear...

2007-04-09T03:34:52Z

no fear...
i have no fear of heaven or hell
i have been alone for the far greater portion of my life
there is nothing that could be done to me
that could scar me more
than you already have
i am ashamed of how i am with you
i am ashamed of how i speed
to do your bidding
there is no solace in heaven for me
you hand does not reach to touch
in the darkness of the long night
there is no fear of hell
for how can god hurt me
when you have done such a good job of it
so i have no fear of anything
i wait for death like waiting for the sun
of a new day
because today
someone might love me
enough to kill my body
my heart and soul
having died a slow death
at your hands

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

seaku

2007-04-06T17:42:18Z

Haikus for Seattle

I am watch ing U
Your quest 4 Su pre ma cy
Like your Nipples, hard…

No Us

There can B no Us
B cause U R the van guard
Ra zor blade breaks skin…

Aerodymically Perfect

The e pit o me
D N A en gin eer ing
Ex cept 4 the string…

I Tried Father

With emp ty hands I
Stan ding on a stage 2 speak
In my fo reign tounge…

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

drowning...

2007-04-05T16:35:30Z

drowning in a warm sea

i'm going down
nearly everytime now
to pray
to the goddess
between your legs
to arouse her passion
and yours

and still i see
she is etheral
like fog
and flees
the light of logic
dispersing into
so many brilliant
flashes of emotion

only animals fuck
and have no will of their own
a man is a dog
as a woman is a cow
but a goddess
is not a woman
having shed her
primal nature

i pray that
the pearly gates might
open
and lead me to everlasting
paradise
basking
in the warm glory
of a wet pussy
and drown again tomorrow
for the
entertainment
of the bitch

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

eating...a poem of our times...

2007-04-04T09:14:26Z

Eating

we are feeding today
on the bones of ancestors
and the wings of angels
we are feasting at the table
of guests
who have left the abode
drinking the wine of tears
shed for us
by those in the past
who saw the future
we are all forked
spooning out our love
cutting the bread of days
with a knife of impatience
we are grilling our eyes
with the sights of our world
tell the chef that the meal
is burning
please pass me the salt
that i may pour it into the wound
which also functions
as my mouth
djones 3/23/07

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 6 replies

upcoming open mic...

2007-04-01T22:42:46Z

we at little red studio seattle are going to start an open mic in april...hit me up for details if you are in the pnw area...the site addy is www.littleredstudioseattle.com
xo
ultra low frequency

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

lrs style...

2007-04-01T22:33:37Z

Nasty Woman

I want a nasty woman
One who drinks, smokes
Does drugs
And fucks
At the drop of a hat
One who thinks
Coffee
Is an appropriate
Late night drink
One who engages
In public displays of affection
Not because it’s cute
But because she’s horny
I want a woman
Who can say
I want to fuck you
Not fuck with you
One who is not put off
By dirty dishes, laundry
Or the fact that I’ve
Just run out of toilet paper
A woman with a
Pornographic
Sense of humor
A woman who thinks panties
Are for pussies
Has one, uses it
But rarely if ever covers it
I want a woman
Nasty enough to reach down my pants
Grab my cock
Look at me and smile
A woman who tells me
Racist jokes
Filthy jokes
And likes it when I talk about
My nigger dick
Going into her honky pussy
One who understands
Computers, cars and guns
Knows why each is necessary
And has all three
A woman who fucks
With the lights on
In front of open windows
One who doesn’t apologize
For her menstrual blood
Who fucks me right after work
And doesn’t shower afterwards
I want a
Nasty woman
But it seems
There are no nasty women
So maybe I should get
A man like me

DJones 4/29/05

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

little red studio art-a-thon...24 hours of art making madness...

2007-04-01T22:27:08Z

Picture a night of creative mayhem: painters, sculptors, dancers, live models, aerialists, and poets – all creating and performing for 24 hours straight! Come revel with us, as we stretch our creative wings in our sumptuous, juicy new digs.

Experience a delightful 24 hours (or any portion of that) of erotically-fueled creation and performance that will widen your eyes, deepen your hearts, and excite your senses as only a Little Red Studio event can!

This event promises to be an incredible experience for you to witness this band of gifted artists and performers create their art on-site and then present it for sale.

You can even purchase opportunities to join in! Commission a poem to be written for you, your lover, or the two (or three, or four…) of you. Model for an artist or a body painter or sit down with a sketchbook or canvas yourself. Commission a dance, an aerial piece or even a piece of music! The possibilities are endless, bound only by your imagination.

Every hour, on the hour, you'll delight in seeing the fruits of the artists' labor. Periodic auctions will give you further opportunities to share in the creative process as a patron.

Other activities to entice you will include a Brunch from 10am to 12noon and a Closing Ceremony at 7pm on Sunday. For a one-time (4 hour) entry, you'll pay $25. For a Full Patron Pass, which gives you the freedom to come and go (or stay the whole time!) as you please for the entire 24-hour event, you'll pay only $50.

You can purchase tickets at the door or in advance at Brown Paper Tickets : www.brownpapertickets.com/event/14089

Come play with us, celebrate with us, and share in our creative magic!

www.littleredstudioseattle.com

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

poor me

2007-01-26T06:54:21Z

this the last blast
in heated bath water
toaster springs sizzle
icy glare cast in bronze shakes to
six-pack spilled southerly abdominal
another pill pops acne puss
and rust forms at the drain.

i remain upright
first person shame to claim
my fight to remain
well-hydrated my belly floats
help sinks in the concave porcelin
in which i think
to get out is better than dead.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 3 replies

If my smelly underwear could talk

2007-01-26T01:31:46Z

The invincibility of solace is my compromise
An elated sentient fast becoming
Dirty socks full of holes
I leak a pungent metaphor
the guilt trip that everyone shares
The cheese that stands alone

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 3 replies

heaven

2007-01-25T04:38:13Z

heaven is below us

beside us

around us

within us

a hair's breadth to perfection

salvation

a stone's throw to oblivion

heaven is elusive

exclusive

the obvious path to damnation

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

The worst thing I could possibly muster up...

2007-01-12T23:15:44Z

obituaries printed,
eulogies read,
carry-off this transition
with a little more couth;
years have sprinted,
caught behind not ahead,
the unexpected position
of burying my youth;

skin was once silken,
such a fine smooth pelt,
stroked by all females
of largesse or frames teenie;
now an absence of lilt in
a face that did melt,
cojones: unrung bells
'neath a cold cocktail weenie.

Okay, another line and I'll fucking kill myself!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 18 replies

poem # 17

2007-01-12T23:09:07Z

stones and grass
leaves
stoned on grass
autumn
leaves
it's snowing already in Cleveland

cardboard suitcase
three pairs of clean underwear
two tee shirts and a sweater
one pair of dungarees
and fourteen worn paper backs

should be enough for a greyhound journey
voyage au 'Cisco
look out Jack London
look out for Jack London
I hope they have pancakes
when I get there

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

My Gift to the World

2006-11-22T23:40:59Z

My gift to the world is the stolen chariot fire of self-deconstruction.

Every day when the wax melts off my wings, I dig my own grave where I fall, paint a bullseye around it and walk away leaving it empty.

Every day I rise again from the boiling of my own kidney fat; reconstituted like a flash-frozen box of Icarian McNugget Phoenix, eagerly overfed on a meal of my own kind who are eagerly overfed on a meal of theirs.

Every day I have a compliment for Sisyphus in each of my two left hands as I endlessly and effortlessly kick my papier-mache boulder over an limitless field of relativist mole hills... almost without looking.

Every day, I shorten my own chain for effect while no one is looking.Then when they are looking, I yank on it hard, just for effect; I force-feed my own fattened liver to Zeus, who is still too embarassed by this outcome to abandon his poorly-conceived transformation into an enormous French goose.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Musings on stupid alts

2006-11-17T23:03:22Z

There once was an alt from tribe
Who couldn't give up on a gibe

So he posted and posted
Until he finally boasted--

"I've been toasted, roasted,
And unsubscribed!"

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

colours

2006-10-31T20:58:38Z

black orange
black goat
black face
black race

red coat
red float
red shirt
red dirt

white page
white sage
white road
white toad

red and yellow
all mixed together
like birds of a feather
never say never

sore stick
sore dick
no luck
no suck

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

by the bay bay

2006-10-31T19:54:09Z

i sat down by the bay
looking at a stone
feeling stoned
dark stone
when i fell by the way
i fell and hurt my knee
a superplastic explosion
a neutral bomb
a kaiser bomb
a floating bomb
i cum in my shorts

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Alligator Love

2006-09-27T03:11:47Z

Crocodile, crocodile,
Swimming down the muddy Nile,
I love to see you smile and smile
My lovely, sexy crocodile

Alligator, alligator
See you now, or see you later
You met my wife, and almost ate her
My bootylicious alligator

Wildebeest, wildebeest
You're my lover's favourite feast
It's stroganoff she likes the least
You poor, delicious wildebeest

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

where are my junkies and whores?

2006-08-07T17:05:48Z

It’s somewhat ironic,
perhaps,
that I write poems
and things that might be considered
stories
but rarely read
the work of others,
either contemporary or those
far better that came before me,
to be remembered long after,

even more seldom do I relate
understand or like
what rubbish is written
for perhaps all poets are not
romantic geniuses but
only clever idiots
with a silver tongue
to poke out the eyes of the world
so no one can see
their bullshit.

Maybe they,
we,
me
all are nothing more
than stubborn thoughts
and foolish dreams
bubbling about in a body
born more than 6 degrees
out of alignment
on a compass that doesn’t point true.
Who truly knows among you
for I am tired of zombies that speak
of lives they never had
and things they burn to know,
but don’t
and never will.

Where are my whores and pimps
and drunks and junkies
and vile cops and men in white
and the waitresses and bums
drunk and vomiting more wisdom
and truth and guts than my father
or the fools ever did.
Where are my dregs that do not bore me
but spurn me to be better then they.
Where are my rejects and burnouts,
my failed and fragile,
my weak and dying?

They huddle over grates,
tremble alone in the dark
nursing a bottle of thunderbird and
stand in a soup line
saving a spot for me.

All the dreamers of the world should know
What fate awaits them just past failure
and pain.

Please do not preach to me
Of things never practiced
And wonders never seen.

Peer closely at the silver backed glass
for I may be vile,
I may strive to fail,
I may be crass,
I may be all the dark you fear
but I’m only a reflection
of you.

Watch the beggar and be sure to hide
your fear behind disdain and apathy
but chances are
the bum and the whore
love life more than you.

At least they tell me to have a nice day.

---

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

help me write the World's Best Joke

2006-07-28T01:19:59Z

http://tribes.tribe.net/monkeypants?_click_path=Application%5Btribe%5D.Tribe%5B9fb0e991-01e6-4cea-99b9-2d6ec03cc93f%5D

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

ja ja chicken bones

2006-07-04T08:08:38Z

dont touch it
full time job
thumb a ride
disco inferno
discount store
discount whore

dont touch it
cops and donuts
do it every night
on CD radio
get a job
give a blow job

dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it
touch it
dont touch it

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 11 replies

for now when you can still do it

2006-07-01T08:33:25Z

http://tribes.tribe.net/dennychang

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Honorable mentings

2006-05-24T05:03:00Z

Wack yo!

http://www.smartlyrics.com/Song543474-Gabriel-Of-Sedona-And-The-Bright-And-Morning-Star-Band-Avengers-Lyrics.aspx

Duh-rizzle!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

smoking sister

2006-05-13T20:31:45Z

my sister was smoking in my dream
i was surprised
it would seem
in appropriate for this dancer
nevermind the threat of cancer
she puffed
caring not for healthy stuff
i was alarmed
so i grabbed her by the arm
and exclaimed
what in god's name
are you doin'
your good health will go to ruin
if you don't quit
she didn't seem give a shit
as she took another drag and said
we needn't always fear the dead
she walked away
that not my sister
no how no way
i thought to chase her
but i did not

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

Only in S.F.

2006-05-02T01:57:20Z

only in s.f.:
homeless with pet iguanas
shrink from sun-lit hail

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 5 replies

Antidotal Evidence

2006-05-01T03:41:05Z

I think it ends badly...

I’m dying to tell you about the lateness of breath
Fascinated by the tears of harmony

When…

The steps are found and taken
The blue bombardier has spoken
While memories fry the brain
Jesus flies through rain

Then…

The apple, serpent and tree are talking
Asking where the mountain failed
In the past they would remember
How the snow lost its cold
Melting into the steamy underworld

If...

The clowns continue laughing
As hyenas in the dark
The play bears watching
As we stroll through the park

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 3 replies

Crap Poetry Manifesto

2006-05-01T03:38:15Z

http://www.geocities.com/brasstackspress/crappoetrymanifesto.html

Would anyome be interested in submitting their bad poetry to be published in an anthology by Brass Tacks Press? Please contact me for details.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

an ode to shrub in haiku form

2006-04-07T15:34:39Z

War games hit the screen
whitehouse braggarts spin tales
enjoying freedom?

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

New Bad Poet in Da House

2006-04-02T00:22:21Z

round and round we go
on a carousel of horsies
streaming rainbow ribbons
trailing like tentacles
in the ocean breeze.

Time is Space
and space is time
come fly with me
your head beaming with acid
as we grind and ride
on plastic horsies
until our juices stream
and explode
upon the satin seats

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

"last-call"

2006-04-02T00:21:04Z

"last-call"

the woman you
know
will most likely
change
your life to a
warped
amusement park
and
you can't wait to
buy
the ticket while
knowing
the rides aren't
safe
and eventually you're
sure
to vomit on the
pavement
in front of everyone
from
a bad corn dog...

let's do it again.

2005 by ATB

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 17 replies

Ode

2006-04-02T00:18:54Z

Ode To The Magic Bud

Oh bud, you are magic,
each tiny nug,
my pipe is endless.

Oh bud, you are magic,
get me high
get me high.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

"poetic display of WHATEVER"

2006-02-16T01:19:57Z

"poetic display of WHATEVER"

I love love,
love loves me back,
no sweeter form
of heart attack;
syrupy sweet
long sticky fingers
over loves plump lips they linger;
I just can't get enough of love,
I just love that word - -
love love love love;
in every latin song
"mi corazon" echoes,
"I've got a heart-on for you"
love's bumper-sticker bellows;
dripping like honey
from adorable bees,
sweet sweet dreams
are made of these;
one more love poem
or empassioned sonnet - -
and I swear to God,
I'm gonna VOMIT.

2006 by ATB

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

St. Valentine's epitaph

2006-02-16T00:27:04Z

St. Valentine's epitaph

innoculate
against chocolate;
use secret powers
to thwart flowers;
drano granules
to bathe stuffed animals;
long satisfying pisses
in place of kisses;
scraping up roadkill racoons
better than novelty balloons;
humans burned six million Jews
so how sincere are "I-love-yous";
Swanson dinner under naked bulb bright
preferable to saccarine by candle light...

believe this rant of dead desire?
I'm a sad, goddamned bald-faced liar.

2006 by ATB

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

The Wrustling of Wings

2006-01-26T00:26:30Z

If only the beginning...

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

Off-Topic... (tell me where else I should have posted it).

2006-01-20T07:54:03Z

Settings:
Interior and exterior;
large hospital psychiatric outpatient counseling
convenience store

Characters:
1 Doctor
1 Recently released psychiatric patient
4 or more bystanders

Doctor: Welcome back, Mr. Clement. How are we doing today?

Patient: Well, Dr. Broyles, I'm still having those problems

Doc: Which is it this time? The CIA reading your thoughts or aliens controlling your dreams?

Pat: I'm not sure about that anymore, but it seems like it could be both.

D: Have you been continuing to take your medication?

P: Yes, and that's why I'm a little concerned about this stuff still happening.

D:Don't worry, Mr. Clement. There are still a couple of things we haven't tried.

P: Not another pill!

D: No. Don't be silly. All you need to do is to take this stainless steel colander and wear it on your head. It will block the transmissions from goin in and out of your dental fillings. Eventually the unseen forces will give up on you and move on to some other poor soul.

P: Gee... I don't know...

D: C'mon- TRY it! After all, what harm can it do? You don't want to go back to the rubber room, do you?

P: Alright. I'll try it. Thanks.

Patient leaves office with colander on his head. Two bystanders point at him behind his back, elbow each other and smile. Patient turns to see them, and they quickly resume apparently disinterested behavior.

(the next day...)

Patient enters doctor's office, colander still on his head.

D: You again? I didn't expect to be seeing you so soon!

P: The colander seems to work, but when I try to sleep, I find it uncomfortable. And it has a tendency to fall off when I move around in my sleep.

D: Oh, silly me! I forgot to tell you about the foil!

P: The FOIL?!?

D: Yes. The FOIL. On your way home tonight, stop by the corner store and buy all the aluminum foil they have. Then, when you get home, cover every surface in your bedroom with aluminum foil. Especially the windows, doors and under your bed. that way you can sleep without the colander.

P: I'm not so sure, Doc...

D: Do as I say or it's the rubber room for you! (wild facial expression, fidgeting)

P: (calmly) Geez... OK. I'll do it.

Shot of patient leaving convenience store with an armload of aluminum foil boxes, the colander still on his head. Functional replay of previous bystander scenario, this time involving store personnel.

(Two days later...)

Patient enter's Doctor's office.

D: DO YOU HAVE SOME KIND OF PROBLEM OR DO YOU JUST KEEP COMING BACK TO TORMENT ME LIKE THE OTHER DO!?!

P: Simmer down, Doc. The foil worked pretty well the first night, but not quite as well last night. I just thought maybe I missed some detail...

D: (suddenly friendly) Yes! Of course... the CARPET!

P: The CARPET? What the heck are you talking about?

D: You need to check under your bedroom carpet when you get home every night. When you went out yesterday, the aliens probably removed the foil from under there. Those aliens are small and... (now squatting in the middle of the room and wildly stabbing the air overhead with both index fingers)... they can hide under your floor, beaming those beams right up into your filling like before! They're small!.... they're...SMALL...

P: To be honest, Doc, I've started to think maybe I've just been imagining thw whole thing. I mean: assuming that I was right in the first place, how can I trust you anyway? How do I know they haven't already used YOUR filling to brainwash YOU?

D: Because... (smiling hugely), my filling are made mostly of plutonium and have only a thin coating of hard lead. Even the slightest tampering would be fatal to everyone involved.

P: Oh, stop that. Now you're just messing with my head.

D: Are you calling me liar? NOBODY CALLS DR. BROYLES A LIAR!!!!

Doctor lunges at Patient with fist

Patient blocks doctor and returns punch.

Slo-mo closeup of Patient's fist impacting with Doctor's jaw.

Fade to stock footage of atomic bomb explosion.

(the end)

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

The Way You Walk

2006-01-20T06:13:20Z

You sexy devil! You're walking
like you have Ron Popeil's
Dial-O-Matic Food Slicers
where your feet should be

And this long road is no road
at all. This long road is a carrot
you julienne with every step.

And every time your foot falls
I hear the crunch of springs
and the blades, as you walk, shout
Mince! Mince! Mince!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

Have we been outdone?

2006-01-15T02:01:52Z

http://www.languageisavirus.com/automatic_poetry_generator.html

Maybe. Maybe not.

I bet if we start with one of the generated poems, we can each edit it a little bit, and then...

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 7 replies

Love's Serenade

2006-01-09T04:32:34Z

I want to be loved,
I want to be missed,
I need to be fucked
and bitten and kissed;
I want my face rubbed
like a furry round fruit,
I'd like my flute blown
with a blast, not a toot;
I want girl-flesh pressed
to my form late at night,
and not have her barf
in the soft morning light
at my gnarled drooling visage
peeled fresh from the pillow...
ain't it too much to ask
for this simpering young fellow?

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 16 replies

"get over yourself"

2006-01-08T05:40:22Z

narcissistic lines
of a life's proclaimed suffering;
in clever fashion writing
of my emotional flutterings;
so very urgent and oh so sincere,
to a poet's craft I try to adhere;
then a loved book is opened
and favorite lines read
that knock abilities back
to when wearing my Keds...

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

"Dr. Seuss Cruises the Singles Ads"

2006-01-08T03:24:31Z

second to a housecat
less than a lover,
will much time pass
'til I find another
who'll elevate me
to wanted status
and slather with saliva
my sub-equatorial love apparatus?

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

"It's Shears or Tears..."

2006-01-04T21:22:47Z

"It's Shears or Tears..."

infatuation filled my airs
'til I disgorged your pubic hair,
hucking up from down my throat
uprooted from your furry moat,
mind I don't chewing strand of hay
but this curly fleece sure ain't okay,
if it's my heart to which you cleave
bitch, you better shave that beav!

2005 by ATB's demon possessor

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Bad, bad poetry...

2006-01-04T03:21:02Z

"an unsavory list"

black rubber flipflops
staining my feet;
handrolled cigarettes
staining my teeth;
unwashed body
smearing my sheets;
no-account life
tainting my sleep;
raw sensibilities
making me weep;
financial underdevelopement
making me cheap;
inactivity creating
a physical heap;
ticket to a hole
six feet deep...

2005 by ATB

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

"paid soulmate's confessional"

2006-01-04T02:58:29Z

many toil
while I plunder,
bank accounts
I rend asunder;

seeking ladies
where 'ere I go,
I'm just another
Giggolo;

like my eyes?
cute's my smile,
can I live
with you awhile?

my hip motion
and my tongue
are keys to get
your purse undone;

soulmate - yeah
for a subscritption,
that's my financed
job description;

my vampiric ways
soon will get old,
another breakup
is fortold;

but before much longer
love I'll pretend,
and back in the saddle
I'll be again!

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Inspiration is Required

2005-12-28T05:12:07Z

I saw this and could not help
massaging the message through
spectral portals

I am the doorway to celestial spoor
Hear my excenogenesis
Feel my love shatter your glass ornament
Make you one with aquarius

http://people.tribe.net/cosmogenesis?_click_path=Application%5Btribe%5D.Person%5B33814f0f-41ad-4809-87ab-c1335614c210%5D

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

my poem

2005-12-17T14:07:41Z

rub a dub dub
i wish i was a nub
cause if I were
i'd know for sure
that i'd have time to grub

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 6 replies

Meteo

2005-12-04T06:26:11Z

a giant fat chibi sephiroth from space
impact into planet
causing mass kaboomsion

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

Un cuento of love desconocido

2005-11-28T21:13:35Z

Campanas suenan
in my heart
cada ves que pasas
in front of my van

Me tienes atrapado
Like a caged zoo animal
Ya quiero que me comas
with your stare
como solo tu pudieras

If only you knew
que existia calor por ti
inside of me
Dentro de mi, solo tu

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 2 replies

Drop Everything

2005-11-17T23:06:22Z

http://dubology.blogspot.com/2005/11/drop-everything.html

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

love poem for my pal Don

2005-11-15T19:45:35Z

You and me
at the barking tree
It's the same ol' story, can't you see?
Love is blind
or has glaucoma
Yep, love stinks
with a funky aroma

Love and booze
will always confuse
but in the end
if you can't keep her
remember, my friend
that beer is cheaper

our hearts will bend
but kegs are deeper

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Flying Home

2005-11-08T10:06:57Z

On an airplane

going home

It's been a long year

going home

Ayear ago

we were on a plane

Flying to a mission

but now the mission

assumptions proven wrong

and the whole mission

possibly invalid

has changed

The new mission is

more confused

It's good to be leaving

going home

On an airplane

going home

Johnny Jensen
composed somewhere in the skies over Turkey, while flying back from the Gulf

I'm home now!! Ad ther's at least a year before they can make me go back

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 4 replies

need magnet reviews

2005-10-27T23:22:48Z

I'm planning to buy several sets of poetry magnets and use them all together, but I want to be sure I get the right ones.

Can I get some feedback from anyone who has some of them?

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 14 replies

Birthday Pasts

2005-10-14T08:24:33Z

Yeah, its another birthday
And, yep, I can't think what would make a good present.

So, all I got you was this past.
Its not even a haiku.
Sorry.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

Chiggers Love Me

2005-10-14T07:52:37Z

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 5 replies

I ask the reader

2005-10-01T04:52:53Z

I ask the reader/
If you were/
The object/
Of this poem/
How would you react?/

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 19 replies

An Ode in progress

2005-09-29T23:35:11Z

When one's place is a mess they can't seem to bear
One way to cope is to sit and to stare
Unto an innocent place on the wall
(If such a place can be found at all)
Such a tactic is used for various reasons
And has been from season to season
Since a man in a cave tried hard not to meet
The gaze of a raptor that wanted to eat
Him, and yes in similar straits was a man
Trying to think of the beach and his tan
And not of the way he was bound to a chair
By handcuffs, and he took extra care
To look not at all at the letters in Red
In order to hold back the shivers of dread
For the sign quoth: he was in a group of support
For the victims of diseases (the venereal sort)

Now I fear I've gone full sail
To the end of this quaint tale
And neglected to explain a bit
How this fellow came to sit
With every eye around on him
(Looking rather worn and slim)
And the burly man, a well armed gent
A servant of the government
Who poked our hero with a gun
(He hoped to god it was as one...
And tried not then to give cognition to
-THAT- small ominous suspicion)
As silence filled the room unto its brim
To stall for time, his drawn face grim
He replaced his stories missing part
Repairing then my jolting start
---

More to come. this is an ongoing project. this is how I've been doodling in my classes >_>

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Sleep

2005-09-29T23:27:05Z

Darkness falls on the day sky
allows essential peace
unfolds my deepest thoughts

seamless quiet silence
the only thing I hear is black
but my mind is what i see

so much i want to dream

shadows of torment in the black
the fear, shame, uselessness,
built into hidden angst
everything that is good now
could matter less
to the past

feelings of weakness pour into me
unrelenting fear flows through me

only when i slumber deep
my mind shows me my true misery

tortured dreams of haunting times

~remy x.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Is it possible...

2005-09-27T04:52:17Z

to write a bad poem? Really, is there some set of guidelines that specifically addresses what makes a good poemand what makes a bad one....I feel in today's literature anything goes and because of the aforementioned there are no standards. So then bad and good poetry dont exist, and it is all just poetry...poetry with many different styles.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 6 replies

Intake: One

2005-09-20T18:05:43Z

...the overthick night threaded with dour jewels,
exclusive and divine. Rusty clocks battering her
sallow, pocked skin. Televised innuendo scraped ravines of truth sitting in silence.
Put up against a dilapidated red-brick wall, marron nails
blazing love through dense, acrid air, wet lips smiling wanly
every now and then.

The ambience: vitrified, no longer responding to external stimuli.
Singular Qabalistic embroidery etched itself on barley-blonde hair,
sending laced psyches slamming into market violence. Holes in black
leather pants syncopating the various agendas of the beat. Like carcass.
The roar of traffic gambled away the rawness of rusted spoons, magnificent
beads of bliss. Her only response was to weep golden ostrich feathers.

...an exotic addition to any cherished collection.

Her voice turned nodes of capital to dust.
Labyrinthine code gilded her every step into reality.
Babylon opened shop beneath one of several bridges she owned,
where she regularly sang fever-dreams into nullity,
coffin voidness in the mazes of the city.

Laughing flesh is digital.

http://peyoetryhut.bl

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Sister's Last Poem

2005-09-01T00:36:58Z

SISTER'S LAST POEM

Father, ask barren Mother
what you always feel less about;
how the new spring moon freezes me here;
why you loved earth for cold, wet dirt.
She was a flower;
a dry ice-flake blossom,
like a bright, eternal, crescent death-slicer.
Yet her long season ended
with the minute summer night rain.
Nature and Bounty are run through
like this life cycle,
as are these warm, sunny, used-starlight skies.
Can my cloud slowly pass
as short winter days begin?
After next month it will all leave him turning over.
See snow let dark breezes rise out from there.
I am not off it;
falling.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 6 replies

you kina have to be a lit nerd for this one

2005-08-24T05:02:27Z

all this banter
to prove I matter
Narcissus got sick on the same kind of thing
Echo will take me too under wing
But I'll never be done
with my single-minded fate
I can't stop thinking
of how you are late
it's no fault of your own
in real time you're here
but in Dani time
you were gone
before the premier
none of this ever can prove your point
none of it will ever reassure
There is no arriving, there is no convincing
perfection will always keep insisting
there's more to do
and not done timely
You can never show me
it's just all in my mind-y
I'll never be 'there'
I'm always in transit
I think it would be cool to interject noodles; "pansit"
I distract myself
call it Cesura
and make it a cool hyped
literary term - a

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

A Monday Night Special- A One Word Poem

2005-08-24T00:19:48Z

Entwangled

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 1 reply

Anomaly, Set

2005-08-16T21:27:21Z

Carrying that process beyond us...

Machines that sever black pools imprinted
in the engines of profit, dispersing deadly
metaphors buried within the shape of a yes

Feral, bristling Bible belts drip terrains, naive
levels of perplexity streaming into the tentacles
of prophecy. Sour volcanic ash wearing a moon-beam...

Interwoven abomination factories battle humanity to the death
Faithless syllables drafted wise martial vibrations
into possible meanings, their droning cartels
raping invisible strings doing evolutionary penance

Nothing but eternity.
Baleful radiation crevices echo
an idea made equal to itself.
Insulting misasma shoes sneezing meteors...

...parading jade senility, the glories of eternal recurrence slope into eulogy filters cut short by intersecting cycles of sugar...drinking the long night away, my hand thunders the hope of a child...custard rolling a champion, hard tears loving me...into music...monstrous beer mysticism origins put into a name that whispers it...crossed destinies stretch temples into blood foliage...letters mauintaing the stream become increasingly whorl-like, all transgressive qualities hoisted by vampiric, titular royalty annealed by ennui...

Constellated smears petrify
Digital clefts chase their perfect
aporias into the fatality that lies
concealed in heraldry

...unless you start at the crown chakra and work your way down

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

untitled

2005-08-12T18:07:27Z

1.The flight of demons gnawing at the very bones of life
2.Buying clothes in traffic etched on the back of his knee
3.Trumpets blare notes weary with pale, knobby poetics
4.That angelic bladder of common sense is on fire, in love with death
5.Volcano teeth will always clear expanses spoken clearly and subtly
6.Love, once unbuttoned, will rise again
7.To a higher task, a higher existence, the seat of semen runs
8.Like wolves that worry the beast they have not killed, my head is full of roads
9.Innocence will be held hostage, lice thrown in its hair, necromancy chained to its lips
10.Pillowcases worthy of artichoke flowers cultivated in drums of clear neual rivulets
11.Haste divulges its reasons for impeding the last calf eaten by melting missionaries
12.This falsetto sweetens the rain falling during times of war
13.Sleeping scars were tolerated, but rarely encouraged to oil the brains of a fossilized army platoon
14.Clouds of electro-shock warned us all of the perils surrounding their particular future vision
15.Writing by candlelight is forbidden in the erogeneous zones of free enterprise
16.Abductors with pigfaces rip us from sleep and graft molecular hourglasses into our memories
17.Unsewn dreams, unholy days and nights, and radiant capacity still eludes the strictures imposed by tossed seeds
18.Your face is capable of unconditional levitation
19.Garden pools imagined in the tint of motal speech reach for entropy
20.Self-indulgent oblivion saps the room's atmosphere of all its browns and greys, tacit as the time of love

http://peyoetryhut.blogspot.com

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 7 replies

Mother Earth

2005-08-08T19:49:36Z

Fortunate meditation leading edge
servostratocastic mundaniety toward
servile denial transformation!!
Your fragile neck
So ruthless, the ministrations of dawn
FREAK OUT!!
My pencils snap writing to get this down
Why'd you run out of toilet paper?
It wasn't my turn to creep down the hall
begging for paper towels.
I cast you out, Satan
string cheese and steamed rice.
Steamed plums straight from the can!
Russian cusine- you are the mafia!
I hate your smelly runoff,
your smashed flyblown pumpkin
stinks, wash your socks it's essential
Stanislavsky method, you the fat gymnast.
Yoga stink and dharma rashes
Vegan cheese factory I hate you
because you scare my dog.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 15 replies

Poetry of a spam nature

2005-08-04T02:22:08Z

I wrote this only from spam RE: on my E-mails.

Ahem *clears throat*

*types*

bye bye fatness
Everythnig your looikng 4
Surprise her with the best night
Hey
soft
replica
Ever wanted a fuck buddy?

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 0 replies

Opaque Narrative no.11

2005-08-01T02:28:36Z

OPAQUE NARRATIVE no. 11

Is the three-dimensional soul a mere tool for pounding rationalization out from another country's altogether innumerable occupations?

Well... let's see...

A young woman manouvers filaments.

Demonstrative particle-passage allegories stroke such a person's uppermost combined conglomeration and fail to hit the organs of sight, yet inscribed mistakes somehow culminate at the organs of hearing.

Additional robberies unearth irritated idiosyncracies, contemporary of remarkable counterbalance, and in that case useful in round numbers.

Indisputable specific atmospheric conditions wander in front of far-off analysis.

Categorical antecedents carry through disconnected gyrations.
Each, in his own way, is perfunctorily responsible.

Foreknowledge influencing insubstantial corporeal sharpness interconnects formerly-remaining, heretofore miscellaneous attainments.

Ball bearing edges favor calculable poise with minor modifications in which fat prematurely migrates from elsewhere.

Financial assistance reiterates the profundity of conjectural discretion.

Near familiarity mechanically transmits shared suggestions.

Trial promotion sequesters its attendants halfway, in a noncombustible standstill leaning toward verisimilitude.

Representative invocations impersonate predetermined viscous personages.

Another appropriation canister of dissociated money comes in the form of amended data.

Invertebrate, circuitously unrestricted whips blow along within, first understanding mankind, then procuring manipulation.

The materially captivating, the bearded, and the potent exercise fastidious inference, making already-requisitioned continuities; making known standard afflictions and having half on each side.

The science of that kind, inhuman being is a multitudinous propensity to throw-away continuance at an infinite distance.

Those not on duty separate integument, yet pocket a predisposed commodity and, scowling at fragments, make twice as much as the remaining competition.

Undivided manifestations of incompetence toward seen and understood unmarried substance show the odd flaw for pre-accomplished, brief encounters in exchange for information about one who entertains guests.

Interim turmoil then formulates neighboring proposals of contemplation about the environment becoming impatient and imaginary.

Indescribable technicians repeat platitudinous indentations inside theorems of vagrancy.

Congruence discriminators clasp determination.

Diametrical emissions push forward, conceivably limited only through their own opposition.

Contour extenders thoerize solitary improvement during incarceration.

Those ancillary blots inside of enigmatic, secluded foam flow subordinately at the hand of extraneous assumptions, although habitually terminating in publication most of the time.

Impenetrable supplementary convictions fail to compensate for lack of service.

Widespread, vivacious proficiency rehabilitatively grasps an instrumentality fix.

Complaint classification constitutes a complete refreshment; primate punch.

Rebound, at that moment, rounded off, still necessitates being surrounded by flagrant perspectives from the top of a pile of prunes.

Consequently, the management pulls through with a bump on the head.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 14 replies

the unmistakable shower

2005-07-31T01:32:51Z

THE UNMISTAKABLE SHOWER

Proceeding toward the outside in regard to stratosphere, shreds connect with falling vapor.

In the back, an accidental corkscrew pulls into a fairly conspicuous opening with great concern, after which a tedious deluge of germs hurriedly invades.

A plunge into water surges, ascending via dissolute, transparent media.

On the analgesic, wooded outskirts, ventilation flounders inconsequentially in the sovereign shade.

Pinkish dappled vegetables lie in an edible, pulpy mass while exclusive barbaric incantations gush out the pipe, charmed by validity.

posted in Bad Poets' Society - 8 replies