OPoem Thread
Let the muse inspire you. Get in touch with your inner bard! (Or inner tard, as the case may be.)
All verse, please. No prose rants. DaveTard, pay close attention (this is advice from a venerable publisher):
Lines
written thus
are not
poetry.
All verse, please. No prose rants. DaveTard, pay close attention (this is advice from a venerable publisher):
Lines
written thus
are not
poetry.
posted by Kristine | Tuesday, November 14, 2006
40 Comments:
I've never done a open mike reading before, but here goes. Eh-hem.
There once was a man in Austin
Who weren't no transplant from Boston
He said with a smirk
I can act like a jerk
And make your comments get lost in
One day at Uncommon Descent
They forgot to mail off the rent
The blog went down
Until change could be found
Passing the plate 'round the Big Tent
The ex-marine wasn't very kind
He left poor Bill in a bind
He went home to pout
And clean his boats carb out
But didn't leave the vowels behind
The young fellow was not very wise
He forgot to keep straight the lies
Bill's lackey named Joel
Scored an own goal
Talking about ID in disguise
Get your UD running—
ID Superhighway!
Bloggin’ for the masses,
and those fappin’ underage.
Born to be blog-piled!
I saw the lost minds of a dazed generation consumed by dogma, dissembling, mystical, incoherent
dragging themselves through the chat forums at dawn cooking on an angry flame
airheaded zealots yearning for a mythical heavenly connection in a patchwork dynamo, and seeing machinery in the cells
whose impoverished notions lie now in tatters and smoking, the darkness of their supernaturalism a thinning shadow,
cold water dashed against floated notions and contemptible spin
who bared their delusions before the court and sent Dominionist lawyers staggering under untenable premises unilluminated
who (occasionally) passed through universities with glazed eyes hallucinating pistons and bearded patriarchs among the scholars of biochemistry
who were shut out of the journals for bullshit & publishing deceptive odes on the irreduceability of the enzyme cascade...
(with apologies to ole' man Ginsberg)
(Reads it over...)
Damn. Last line should be 'clotting cascade'.
Apologies. It was the peyote. How else are ya gonna channel the beats?
There's UD mod so coarse
With an ego as big as a horse
Of my vowels there's no trace
And he said with straight face
That "Gravity's the strongest force"
One kilopardons to you all. I wanted to partake but you guys are so literary and creative it's tough to compare!
The queen of tards she grinds out yards
Of nonsense night and day
The knave of tards has always barred
All those he cannot sway
The king of tards has got no nards
And stays out of the fray
DaveScat
shat on
the mat.
Borat, that really sucked.
Lou and the girls, I’m waiting for you all to wax damned near poetic (not that you don’t all the time)…
Borat, that really sucked.
I don't know. It has this Theodor Geisel mien that I find compelling, even if it is sparse.
I still think it sucked.
Be good, everyone. I'm going to be gone for awhile...
You, dear Kristine
are a non-rhyming
poetry
bigot.
But we love you anyway!
We'll work on one....
Can it start with
"There once was a girl from Nantucket,"?
Ok, this isn't new, though.
I don't write much rhyming poetry, but here's one I wrote back in '95. It's never been seen by the public, though, so feel privileged...
Death
Death,
She is a comin'
for every man but me,
I am not afraid of her,
Nor is she of me.
I've danced with her,
and laughed at her,
While jumping from a plane,
I've done the things
that other beings
have often called insane,
I'll ride her tails,
through starry trails,
And skitter all through space,
And all the while,
I'll fly in style,
And chuckle in her face.
If she wanted me,
I clearly see,
She'd done already came,
But I'm the thistle,
the fatty gristle,
That Death just couldn't tame.
And since she can't
or won't or don't
I'd like to change my plea,
I'm still sure,
I'm not afraid of her,
But I think she is of me.
L.
10/4/95
You, dear Kristine/are a non-rhyming/poetry/bigot.
Hey! Not true, JanieBelle. I loved Dan's haiku and AJ's "Howl" pastische. ;-)
Can it start with "There once was a girl from Nantucket,"?
I was kind of waiting for that one! Do continue.
Lou, I liked yours very much.
"Because you could not stop for death/you kindly set it free/If it comes back to you, it is yours/if it does not, hunt it down and blog it!"
I proudly mix metaphors.
There once was a Tard named DaveScot,
Who really thought Janie was hot,
Oh the hilarity,
Saved for posterity,
When he found out she was a bot.
Very nice Janiebelle.
Here's my Haiku
Uncommon Descent
Display rotten gray matter
lies fish for easy marks
My goodness, what talented poets you all are! Bravo! *Claps*
Okay, JanieBelle, this is for you:
Proof that I'm not against free verse. This is a few parts of a larger poem about an imaginary affair. (It passed the John Board of Review).
He’s married; I live
with my boyfriend. I tease,
“Does what we do on the
Caddis atoll
stay on the Caddis atoll?”
“If you want,” he breathes
in my ear.
It’s so hot, and the cruise ship
(I almost said cruel ship)
lurks behind the palms
like some distracted tourist
wandering near the pick-pocket
with one hand on that wallet...
He tells me that long before
Charles Darwin reached the Galapagos
he fled, in Chile, the earthquake
that sent a twenty-foot wave
to wash away the city of
Concepción.
I wish that I could fit
my thoughts between his,
that I did not question science
with philosophy,
that I had not frittered—
“But to be a bohemian
is brave, too,” he says, “to write,
invent, to dance, as you do.”
To dance. Our atoll tango,
our atoll tangle. Swing
your partner.
The next day a cruise ship sank
like the freighter carrying Wallace,
like the theories of Wallace next to Darwin’s,
and overcast our Beagle dry docking.
I thought of the victims, crew, guests
engulfed like the ship carrying Wallace,
buried with his fossils, his notes, his specimens,
so many creatures separated by eras
settling now into one, recent, sea-hidden
traumazoic
stratum
but there are no deaths today,
just our unclasped hands
as my lover backs away,
soft traces of his words
on my lips.
To your waiting car go, and
I to my plane.
Was that pain in his eyes?
Will it change over time?...
Never a second Flood,
said man to man under
that exalted pseudonym.
Even the devout fear
that God will cheat
because He can, and
smite or not the shimmering
planet named Prophesy.
All the children Left Behind
as the floodwaters boil,
as the icecaps sweat,
as the extinctions rise—
endless deaths most plentiful,
the Origin of the Death of Species.
I think of my god, leaning over me
with all the command of a setting sun
as the waves crashed
at his back.
This he, the atheist,
had prophesized.
Very nice.
No worries, Sweetie, I just misread the intent of your statement in the original post. Sorry.
Here's one for you...
Our grandpa became Lenny Flank,
The other PZ Myers,
When PZ banned him from the Thumb,
to put out all the fires.
Lou F C D was clowning too,
and to the stall he went
And rather proud was he when to
the bathroom wall was sent.
But Daddy Arden pulled the plug
and "Not yet" Lou was told,
"You must get banned from Dembski's blog
By DaveScot and with bold."
And so the seed that Arden planted
Grew within Lou's womb,
And Janie Belle McKnight was born,
and headed forth to doom.
DaveScot wouldn't hang around,
So Corporal Kate was born,
And lovers she and Janie bound,
And Dave was back, forlorn.
But Billy D. obliged us all,
and sent us down the pike,
Because we dared to question that
Old dried up MorphoDyke.
And we must mention our Grand Aunt,
Who guided Lou with Love,
He refers to her with mild smirk,
As his own Karl Rove.
Eventually it had to be
that all good things must end,
So from the closet we're both free,
and here the story's penned.
That's how DaveScot's Katie's Dad,
and Arden is my own,
Grand children of that Lenny Flank,
And PZ's too! (He'll groan.)
And so we live to tell the tale,
and tell you of our fates,
how happy fertile Mommy Lou,
got pregged on both first dates.
Kids.
Sheesh.
"Lou, I liked yours very much.
"Because you could not stop for death/you kindly set it free/If it comes back to you, it is yours/if it does not, hunt it down and blog it!"
I proudly mix metaphors."
Thanks!
Nice metaphor mixing, too!
Ack, I screwed the pooch
My haiku was off by one
UD still spreads lies
Awe, your haiku was perfect anyway, chimpy.
Kisses
Like I said - how do I even compete with that stuff.
Kristine: Your Dumbski daydreams are starting to frighten me a bit...
Hi PiGuy!
Awe, just give it a go. You'll do fine, I'm sure.
On a side note, I was just checking my blogometer, and you were starring in a Vonage ad on the side of the page!
I hope you get some kick-ass royalties!
Who's your daddy, Janie? Who's your daddy??
Arden, waxes poetic at AtBC all the time.
Your Dumbski daydreams are starting to frighten me a bit...
I'm just trying to save him, PiGuy. :-)
Write a poem about your concern! How's that?
(And who do you think is the mystery man in my poem? It certainly isn't Dembski.)
That second haiku was clever, Rev. Chimp!
Well crap.
I totally missed that the second one was a haiku.
Some lit student I am....
Somewhere out there, Peanut the Woozle is going...
SSSSShhhhhooooooom.
When Lady Penelope swoons,
Her breats pop out like balloons.
The butler stands by,
With a gleam in his eye,
And pops them back in with warm spoons.
I am the very model of a middle level manager
The only use I serve is to make more work for the janitor
In every sense that matters I'm effectively a parasite
I've no knowledge, skill or talent to distinguish me from anthracite
So in every manner present, past, posterior and former
I am the very model of an administrative bench warmer
[GUITAR SOLO]
I've binders full of overheads that elucidate the status quo
Of corporate units that have long since died and gone to Mexico
I can handle Powerpoint as long as there's a template close enough
And I've been to seminars on training, empowering, and stroganoff
So in very manner delegated, reassigned and duty free
I am the very model of a dead branch on the corporate tree...
AJ Milne: I am the very model of a middle level manager
Brother, you are singing about my life, too. Here is another stanza. It needs some work, but I've got a planning meeting starting shortly:
Even on Friday, I wear shirts with collars,
like a good little corporate peon
I seriously carry more pesos than dollars
Passport pages of entry at Nuevo Leon
I got those MISSION STATEMENT BLUUUUUUESSS!
There once was a lie called ID
And its supporters did so decree
"It's science, we say"
but no data had they
And in Dover they left their debris
Janie:
Yeah, that's me in the Vonage ads. A few more royalty checks and I'll be parking my boat next to DaveTard's saying, "Duh-ave - So what do you think the poor people are doing?"
No time at the moment to write something new so I'll dig one out of my archives...
Theory of Evo
Explains how things came to be
Good for starting fights
Theory of ID
Vacuous, lacking substance
Finds God in the Gaps
If I get some free time later I'll write a nice Uncommonly Dense sonnet...
Hey, Pooflingers Anonymous! Yay, another distinguished visitor. Fling that poetry poo, Matt!
Okay, this isn't much but sometimes it's tough to write something decent in a hurry. Hope you like (just turn off your sarcasmometers before reading... it might cause a meltdown):
Now, pay attention while I tell a tale
Of information theory's own "Newton"
And the Darwinism he thought to nail
To put evilutionists on the run.
A brave knight do we find him: strong and true;
Leading light of Intelligent Design
Who once predicted Darwin's Waterloo;
An expert in the art of the quote mine.
Bill Dembski do we find his name to be
And quite a peanut gallery he has:
Dave Scot doth ban the persons such as me;
Cordova's job: to kiss his lofty ass!
O world of ID: you'd make little sense
But for Billy's blog: Uncommonly Dense.
Bravo, Matt!
Blipey would be proud!
Matt, that was spectacular. No apologies necessary--very good. *Applause*
(BTW, everybody, look at the off-topic DT comments in the next post ("Lipstick Librarian"). Don't comment on it, please, and don't say his name, because I really want him to go away now, but I can't stop laughing! I think I'm going to have a fucking heart attack!)
Post a Comment
<< Home