some thoughts on the muse, the ineffable concept of the suspended fourth, etc.

iwbiek
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some thoughts on the muse, the ineffable concept of the suspended fourth, etc.

yeah, the subject has nothing to do with anything, but since this site is becoming more poetry friendly, it's as relevant as anything else, i guess.  here's a couple more of mine:

when i'm on the bus

the laugh of the young girls

makes me not know

what to think

i am quiet

and they laugh

it's a fair arrangement

.............................................
 

5 years ago

i was in a small village

outside frankfurt, germany

one night i prayed

in the toilet

that i could curl up

with a bottle

and listen to tom waits

and dream of

drinking scoresby

at 4 a.m.

in savannah, georgia

then i met a german girl

with blonde hair

a bit thick

but that's how i like them

she didn't speak english

we used to smile

at each other

in the hall

every day

and that's as far

as we ever took it

it was the best fuck

of my life

 

"I asked my father,
I said, 'Father change my name.'
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame."
--Leonard Cohen


dingusdangus
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man, that sucks.................................................

and that is all I have to say. Allen Ginsberg you are not, or maybe you are. Gay bar lately?


Atheistextremist
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Thanks for posting Iwb

 

Like them both - favour the simplicity of the first. Really like that one. Good-oh.

"Experiments are the only means of knowledge at our disposal. The rest is poetry, imagination." Max Planck


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Here's a couple back at you

               Eternity of now            

how can words unstitch a moment and hand it over
my chair’s press, this window view, the wild heat of
local trees giving up their share of sun. in the rustling
quiet a slash of red wintering birds changing seats and
over the lawn and the falling fence, down the long hill,
the fish river bridge waits silently for trains

 

               SiO2.nH2O        


bury me in room 16 at the white cliffs motel
up that tyre-bruise lane of gibber jags, through
the dining room and down the cool hall to my bed
in the cretaceous palm of a yester-lake
i’ll drink the desert water and all our days
lay them out, regularly, in their colours

 

 

 

"Experiments are the only means of knowledge at our disposal. The rest is poetry, imagination." Max Planck


iwbiek
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dingusdangus wrote:and that

dingusdangus wrote:

and that is all I have to say. Allen Ginsberg you are not, or maybe you are. Gay bar lately?

well, considering ginsberg is dead, probably not.

"I asked my father,
I said, 'Father change my name.'
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame."
--Leonard Cohen


iwbiek
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Atheistextremist

Atheistextremist wrote:

               Eternity of now            

how can words unstitch a moment and hand it over
my chair’s press, this window view, the wild heat of
local trees giving up their share of sun. in the rustling
quiet a slash of red wintering birds changing seats and
over the lawn and the falling fence, down the long hill,
the fish river bridge waits silently for trains

 

               SiO2.nH2O        


bury me in room 16 at the white cliffs motel
up that tyre-bruise lane of gibber jags, through
the dining room and down the cool hall to my bed
in the cretaceous palm of a yester-lake
i’ll drink the desert water and all our days
lay them out, regularly, in their colours

 

 

 

i like 'em.  the way you toy around with words (e.g., "fish river bridge," "tyre-bruise" ) sort of reminds me of dylan thomas, though you don't have as much focus as dylan thomas (that is a neutral observation).

also, i like poems that use first person future, which is why i like your second one better.  probably because i think van morrison's "sweet thing" off astral weeks is one of the best songs ever written, and it's entirely in that tense.  funny how i almost never use it.  i think it's because i tend to live in the past or present, like bukowski.

thanks for the kind words, btw.

"I asked my father,
I said, 'Father change my name.'
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame."
--Leonard Cohen


master jahra (not verified)
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I love this

I love this site!!!

 

disjointed

seemingly random

to critique an aesthetic tandem

snapshots of thoughts

as quick as I can scan them

become pictures in my mind

and back to you I hand them


Kapkao
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iwbiek wrote:yeah, the

iwbiek wrote:

yeah, the subject has nothing to do with anything, but since this site is becoming more poetry friendly, it's as relevant as anything else, i guess.  here's a couple more of mine:

when i'm on the bus

the laugh of the young girls

makes me not know

what to think

i am quiet

and they laugh

it's a fair arrangement

.............................................

 

This part right here is depressing because it reminds me a lot (not word-for-word, mind you) of my current circumstances and my occasionally deranged and chaotic mind.

 

I call it A Bloody Greek Tragedy.

“A meritocratic society is one in which inequalities of wealth and social position solely reflect the unequal distribution of merit or skills amongst human beings, or are based upon factors beyond human control, for example luck or chance. Such a society is socially just because individuals are judged not by their gender, the colour of their skin or their religion, but according to their talents and willingness to work, or on what Martin Luther King called 'the content of their character'. By extension, social equality is unjust because it treats unequal individuals equally.” "Political Ideologies" by Andrew Heywood (2003)


Atheistextremist
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Nice one

master jahra wrote:

I love this site!!!

 

disjointed

seemingly random

to critique an aesthetic tandem

snapshots of thoughts

as quick as I can scan them

become pictures in my mind

and back to you I hand them

 

This is a simple and strong moment of comprehension. Nice one.

 

 

"Experiments are the only means of knowledge at our disposal. The rest is poetry, imagination." Max Planck


iwbiek
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Kapkao wrote:iwbiek

Kapkao wrote:

iwbiek wrote:

yeah, the subject has nothing to do with anything, but since this site is becoming more poetry friendly, it's as relevant as anything else, i guess.  here's a couple more of mine:

when i'm on the bus

the laugh of the young girls

makes me not know

what to think

i am quiet

and they laugh

it's a fair arrangement

.............................................

 

This part right here is depressing because it reminds me a lot (not word-for-word, mind you) of my current circumstances and my occasionally deranged and chaotic mind.

i suppose this is a perfect example of varying perspectives.  i don't like to analyze poems, especially my own, and none of them have any particular message, but i can say i didn't write this poem in a depression at all.  it was my attempt to capture a moment of bewildering beauty.  i suppose there could be a slight melancholy note to it, but over all i think i come across as quite comfortable.

"I asked my father,
I said, 'Father change my name.'
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame."
--Leonard Cohen