Blackout
End Jam Back
Right, time to write Did you just rhyme... Nevermind No, go on, say it Well it's that rhyme Asshole No you're thinking Of assonance But we're still friends Remember not to mention I know not to mention dictatorial leader's testicles And penises Don't worry this is a classy piece About existential misery And Aunty Disestab Lissh' Mentarianism By proxy What? Why by proxy? Good point Why buy proxy when I can shop direct Am I erect or correct. Wait What? Did you just erasure the fuck out of this poem? I made a call today for direct existential poetry and now you're trying to - - You did it again What? You know - you did You're doing it aga- That doesn't even make sense Of course it does It's poetry Oh yeah? Explain I've written it in verse and committed it to screen and paper scroll and parchment Therefore it is now art If cutting a cow and showing formaldehyde up its bum is art Then I call this art You said bum I also said shove Testicles Do you want me to black out you And then no one will What? No one will - - - talking - But theres not even rhymes Why are there no rhymes? Do you hate rhymes? Are you rhyme phobic? No but I knew her sister She chewed with her - closed If you can believe it So proper e-nun seancation And endjamback Wait do you meanenjambmentwhen controlling The pacing and flowno End jam back End.. jam it in. Back on the grind. Or something Whose a fancy fucker today? Who's. I asked you. No... I was. Fuck, nerve mind Fuck a nerve mind Group talk hive mind everybody do the dinosaur Walk like a malfunction in a three piece suite This is why the e is a powerful tool in the wrong hands its deadly. Who killed lee? Am I dead lee? Three piece sweet suite suit or soot How can you hate trees. Who sits there and says "fuck the trees" When I said "fuck the trees" I... Are you blushing? No. Yes. What tree got you weak AF at the knee? Elm? No. Fucking Elm I just hate but maybe later I prefer oak. Well... Does he like you back? You mean bark Woof Just silly. Said you, oak tree end jam back grinding fucker thing you. So important poetry Over on yonder hill I saw a cotton candy mill And I did trot over to it with a sense of truety If you can imagine such a wonderous concept And I did marry a maid of milk and macro nutrients Maid or made? I didn't force her hand That's what she said? That's not how jokes work. I know I know They sell bingo cards to prostituea and winnebago owners On route not 66 the one with the meringues Oh look I had this sitting around waiting for a time like this The wind wis gently blowin' the curtains. Rhythmically shimmying them as it drifted through the branches o' the ferns tae the south o' oor hame. It whistled its aria o' wistful uncertainty. Rich an' groundin' the scent carried through mah opened windae. Fresh grass cuttings an' the earthy richness o' soil vibrant wae life. Today wis a normal day. Ye ken the kin o' day where there's peace an' quiet until a loud thud breaks the spell cast by the siren's song. "Andy! Andy lad are ye in there? Din,nae ignore me ya bastid. Ah've got summit important tae tell ye. Let me in!" "Hawd yer horses ya Maddie, Am domin' tae the door noo." As Ah unlocked it, the brass hawndle jittered an' the lightweight door swung back pullin' me wae it." Now I feel complete. Wanna fuck an oak with me?
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets
The Dreamer.
The clock ticks and tocks... The moments rush past faster than the oxygen which enters our lungs... Her hands claw into my spine with such intense energy... At last, a calm looms upon both her and I... Like that of the waves of the sea crashing gently upon the shore...
By Armand Slayer4 months ago in Poets
Addendum Obscura
I'm overshadowed by it all The comings and consecrations of a tainted heart once pure The goings and contractions We are all another's rock bottom puddle to avoid... Ah f Orgive me I feel like s Hakes and shivers become me Don't be c Ontemptous Regrets shame accumulate addendum obscura Pain receptors, don't need them The taste of guilt on my tongue Pain receptors, don't need them The scent of petrichor in my lungs Pain receptors, don't need them The scent of verdure— help me? endure? Forget me forget me forget it Salacious sanctum devastation Latrine to cleanup Cleanup in aisle c'est la vie All customers are reminded That that that ... Reproach is given freely in the lobby Lobotomy is given at cost for those I know... Blood— we are all blood, offal, flesh, ligaments and sinew with bones to form us into some making of a puzzle. When alighting from la vie Be careful to tip generously Karma or something No karma I've heard Accuracy In this land of engregious demonautoautootrocracy A penny for a piss A penny for your thoughts Moneypenny for your tauts Welcome one and all for one and all to the garden of delicious delights Be careful of course because the nymphs they bite and cover you in sh Ackles of excess Then the shame rises inside you like balsamic? acid From the addendum of your gut Full of despair and despised by all but not least of all— You. When you can't make hide nor tail of a donkey And the garden— is it full of earthly delights or that one stage of hell most seem to have? Problems arise when problems are given names Just as war is given life from the warning and promise of war Even when peace is met with the sofa of disdain You sit on it. Sink in it. I want to I want to be my own emotional master with a fire that fuels me but I struggle to understand myself Almost always and I have doubts about my heart Almost always Pain receptors, don't need them anymore Don't want to feel them anymore But I need the bite the b— I'll see myself out or should I stay? Say c'est la vie Until I sink to the bottom beneath the cushions of the sofa of disdain and disrepair I can breathe out the toxins and feed on the deliciou SAcathing satisfaction of criticism Soak up the detritus dine on the dead umbilical Ubiquitous the shame Knowledge is the pain A dagger that cuts like the meat grinder of Of ...
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets
