Bite me

[twelveoone]

fuck off!!!! by the way did I say fuck off yet??

interlocking sound and repeating words that sound like echoes and are meant to be there as opposed to words too close together and clunking, the rhythm is just right. It's a pity you're not a poet.......

another dissatisfied customer....
tod, I'm the only one here that offers a double your money back guarantee.

 

[HarryHill]

fuck off!!!! by the way did I say fuck off yet??

interlocking sound and repeating words that sound like echoes and are meant to be there as opposed to words too close together and clunking, the rhythm is just right. It's a pity you're not a poet.......

see how they turn on you after you teach them everything you know?
:smartassemoticon:

 

[twelveoone]

see how they turn on you after you teach them everything you know?
:smartassemoticon:

I didn't.
I think todski's reaction was because he discovered the mora.

 

[butters]

i think tod's grinning ear to ear.

it was tight, twelve, and lots of other stuff.

 

[butters]

the secret weight of syllables

 

[HarryHill]

the secret weight of syllables

The Weight of Words.....

 

[butters]

The Weight of Words.....

it opens on such a positive note - they will discover; i know that 'will' can be read emphasised or not, but i see it as a good opening - at least the words will be found, and read. of course, what they then do with that experience we'll never know. we only get some idea from reactions now, but times change. it's the ego's issue, about what we might hope our words will achieve. since we'll never know, i write hoping to please my own reader-head first and foremost, then that of a selected few.

words
stones
buff or bruise
pumice or granite

when finely ground
talcum

 

[todski28]

The Weight of Words.....

Forget the future in terms of writing write for the now, the future can handle itself in time, I must go through and read more of your work, and finish commenting on I, the Shadow.

 

[twelveoone]

and finish commenting on I, the Shadow.

tod, i can show you exactly what i did. the set-ups, the anticipated responses, why it is easy to get different readings. i am playing a memory game, the human mind sees x, holds x, i am forcing a back and forth game also. probably one of the reasons people read it more than once.

what does it mean for you as a writer? easy if you are doing more than 8 lines never start at the beginning and plow through to the end. it is all a game.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BTW what bothered you about Djinn, what specific word combinations?
there is the mora
there is the dolnik
there is the caesura
I'll be honest I know very little, but I know they exist, and like everything else are variables. So you hit something, someone else might not. I'm curious.,

 

[todski28]

tod, i can show you exactly what i did. the set-ups, the anticipated responses, why it is easy to get different readings. i am playing a memory game, the human mind sees x, holds x, i am forcing a back and forth game also. probably one of the reasons people read it more than once.

what does it mean for you as a writer? easy if you are doing more than 8 lines never start at the beginning and plow through to the end. it is all a game.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BTW what bothered you about Djinn, what specific word combinations?
there is the mora
there is the dolnik
there is the caesura
I'll be honest I know very little, but I know they exist, and like everything else are variables. So you hit something, someone else might not. I'm curious.,

My apologiet 1201 it was meant as light hearted admiration, normally when words repeat the way you used them they echo themselves badly in such a short space, I used fuck off twice to try and impress that I was impressed. I haven't ever read a poem that repeats itself without getting pissed off with it. Pantoums really piss me off these days can't read em.

 

[todski28]

What it did was put me smack bang in a desert and the repeats seemed to be the wind swirling up a sandstorm and clouding my vision, then you put in the glyphs and I was hooked. Let me come back to it tomorrow and I'll give you my break down as best as I can describe!

 

[twelveoone]

What it did was put me smack bang in a desert and the repeats seemed to be the wind swirling up a sandstorm and clouding my vision, then you put in the glyphs and I was hooked. Let me come back to it tomorrow and I'll give you my break down as best as I can describe!

and I thought it was the damned djinn
Zildjian

 

[todski28]

Djinn

The shadow of the ruin moves across the sand.

Endless are these waves that breach
this beach of broken glass
that beat the time
that crush the glass
and render it back to sand

Slow reads the poetry cut in glyphs by camels feet.

Endless are these waves that crest
to the clouds upon the sea.
Almond scented
my djinn drifts
Eternal, beyond reach.

Slow beats a camel's heart saddled in caravan.

We are as the djinn, damned djinn,
we are as the wind.
A scent of almonds wafts above the waves.
We are as the djinn, damned djinn,
we are as the wind.
A scent of almonds descends in flame.

first line creates a double idea turning on the word moves, as if both the shadow is moving and the sand is moving as well, the whole concept is so mercurial, I can not nail down what I want to say, except that it feels like this piece is an actual djinn, drifting along forlorn and melancholy attatched to to a caravan of people ghosting them as a spectre, the glass reference for me alludes to the fragility of life and that this djinn is not long for this world, about to return to dust, damned as are its forefathers and on into the future,

the descends into flame ending reminds me of a funeral pyre. if I have any more thoughts 1201 I will let you know. but this piece hit home in a forlorn melancholy, in almost a similar manner the bugle raises the hair on my neck and tears that want to spill unbidden

 

[twelveoone]

thank you. tod. what you see is what you see. you see more than you give yourself credit for.

 

[twelveoone]

7,930

as containers we passed
our loved ones
black cloths wound
their mouths

what were they thinking
these home of the brave bureaucrats
to return us to work
Our last hour

the next day
as blue and as cloudless
as they came

this has been submitted. comments and votes turned off. I checked three times.

since I wrote this there have been two cars accidents, neither should have been fatal.
the Malaise ofSynchronicity

'The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday – but never jam to-day.'
'It MUST come sometimes to "jam to-day,"' Alice objected.
'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't any OTHER day, you know.'
'I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!'
'That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: 'it always makes one a little giddy at first--'
'Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment. 'I never heard of such a thing!'
'--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both ways.'
'I'm sure MINE only works one way,' Alice remarked. 'I can't remember things before they happen.'
'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen remarked.

while bouncing around the internet I hit this

see the comment by DIL23
I just checked the date, the poem was submitted after midnight and I'm not sure why. Most are not going to get it. As said comments are turned off, I do not wish to deal with inane crusaders. A picture in the New York Times of an old fireman with a black cloth around his mouth touched me, bothered me. Not that writing about it does any good. It never fucking does. There is nothing rational about this. There seems to be little fucking rational about anything.
This year is the 100th anniversary of WWI.
Every one looks for a meaning in death, but given the choice most would have chose a rather meaningless life.
I have no faith in Religion including this one.
Remember, honour the dead, but don't exploit them.

 

[twelveoone]

this has been submitted. comments and votes turned off. I checked three times.

since I wrote this there have been two cars accidents, neither should have been fatal.
the Malaise ofSynchronicity

'The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday – but never jam to-day.'
'It MUST come sometimes to "jam to-day,"' Alice objected.
'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't any OTHER day, you know.'
'I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!'
'That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: 'it always makes one a little giddy at first--'
'Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment. 'I never heard of such a thing!'
'--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both ways.'
'I'm sure MINE only works one way,' Alice remarked. 'I can't remember things before they happen.'
'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen remarked.

while bouncing around the internet I hit this

see the comment by DIL23
I just checked the date, the poem was submitted after midnight and I'm not sure why. Most are not going to get it. As said comments are turned off, I do not wish to deal with inane crusaders. A picture in the New York Times of an old fireman with a black cloth around his mouth touched me, bothered me. Not that writing about it does any good. It never fucking does. There is nothing rational about this. There seems to be little fucking rational about anything.
This year is the 100th anniversary of WWI.
Every one looks for a meaning in death, but given the choice most would have chose a rather meaningless life.
I have no faith in Religion including this one.
Remember, honour the dead, but don't exploit them.

this does not make sense. it is not supposed too. then. what did. what does. some asshole decides to have a koran burning. some people get killed. it goes on. words exploited. manipulated.

 

[Tsotha]

this does not make sense. it is not supposed too. then. what did. what does. some asshole decides to have a koran burning. some people get killed. it goes on. words exploited. manipulated.

I thought you didn't want comments / a discussion?

 

[twelveoone]

I thought you didn't want comments / a discussion?

No, and thank you to those that did try to comment.
the next day
as blue and as cloudless
as they came

this bothered me, I was losing control of the writing. I never checked to make sure the weather was the same in NYC, it usually is as in New Jersey. We had the same cloudy weather on the 10th, and at 9 AM the next morning it was exactly the same weather as 9/11, however this was south Jersey. On 9/11 I was in north Jersey. One of two poems I lost control over.

 

[twelveoone]

God, I hate these

haiku, and forms in general

Basho to Dante and Virgil

why so wordy, long
fellows? is not brevity
in your souls? assholes!

original title has been changed as being un haiku like and way too offensive even for me

Basho descends into hell on a crowded elevator with a bunch of Italians expressing themselves

 

[twelveoone]

Poetry
someone has to write it
someone has to read it
can't this be automated
what?
it already has

TKO LV NV 317

 

[normal jean]

I know, I am stupid, inane, barely tolerable, but I like you and your poetry. Sometimes it confuses me, but then I spend more time attempting o understand what you meant when you wrote it. Then I realized, what you meant does not really matter because I am the consumer and what it means to me, at the moment I read it and formed an idea, opinion, about it, it became mine, in a way.

You are indeed a unique individual. I think about you way more than I should and that os probably just because of your personality. You have a duality that is intriguing and equally frustrating. No, this is not a love letter, God forbid I might have to endure accusations such as caring for someone. However, since you desire no comments, no well thought out explanations for why I thought you meant what you meant or maybe you didn't.

You can grouch and crouse and grumble and snipe hunt all you want, but some of us actually like you, some of us like you more and you may have actually inspired some of the rest of us. So keep on protesting, I hear you, I just don't care because you do not really want people to leave you alone, you want us to read you, and you need to be understood on a deeper level than you believe you are understood now.
So, go write us another Mayberry poem, ( it was great, BTW) and those of us who give a fuck will read you and those who don't will read you too because they like you and just don't want to admit it.

~

up late, watching VHS and not ashamed to admit it!

 

[butters]

Poetry
someone has to write it
someone has to read it
can't this be automated
what?
it already has

TKO LV NV 317

when is a ku
not a ku?
pip pip (extended cherry blossom reference)
what a to do
compu
terrrrrr . . . 'ee say no

 

[HarryHill]

I know, I am stupid, inane, barely tolerable, but I like you and your poetry. Sometimes it confuses me, but then I spend more time attempting o understand what you meant when you wrote it. Then I realized, what you meant does not really matter because I am the consumer and what it means to me, at the moment I read it and formed an idea, opinion, about it, it became mine, in a way.

You are indeed a unique individual. I think about you way more than I should and that os probably just because of your personality. You have a duality that is intriguing and equally frustrating. No, this is not a love letter, God forbid I might have to endure accusations such as caring for someone. However, since you desire no comments, no well thought out explanations for why I thought you meant what you meant or maybe you didn't.

You can grouch and crouse and grumble and snipe hunt all you want, but some of us actually like you, some of us like you more and you may have actually inspired some of the rest of us. So keep on protesting, I hear you, I just don't care because you do not really want people to leave you alone, you want us to read you, and you need to be understood on a deeper level than you believe you are understood now.
So, go write us another Mayberry poem, ( it was great, BTW) and those of us who give a fuck will read you and those who don't will read you too because they like you and just don't want to admit it.

~

up late, watching VHS and not ashamed to admit it!

Someone pm me when 12 answers this.

 

[butters]

Someone pm me when 12 answers this.

 

[twelveoone]

I know, I am stupid, inane, barely tolerable, but I like you and your poetry. Sometimes it confuses me, but then I spend more time attempting o understand what you meant when you wrote it. Then I realized, what you meant does not really matter because I am the consumer and what it means to me, at the moment I read it and formed an idea, opinion, about it, it became mine, in a way.

You are indeed a unique individual. I think about you way more than I should and that os probably just because of your personality. You have a duality that is intriguing and equally frustrating. No, this is not a love letter, God forbid I might have to endure accusations such as caring for someone. However, since you desire no comments, no well thought out explanations for why I thought you meant what you meant or maybe you didn't.

You can grouch and crouse and grumble and snipe hunt all you want, but some of us actually like you, some of us like you more and you may have actually inspired some of the rest of us. So keep on protesting, I hear you, I just don't care because you do not really want people to leave you alone, you want us to read you, and you need to be understood on a deeper level than you believe you are understood now.
So, go write us another Mayberry poem, ( it was great, BTW) and those of us who give a fuck will read you and those who don't will read you too because they like you and just don't want to admit it.

~

up late, watching VHS and not ashamed to admit it!

well now that we got that out of the way...
I turned off comments on one poem. Voting on two. The rest are open. As for Mayberry, I am at a loss here...What?

I know, I am stupid, inane, barely tolerable, but I like you and your poetry.
as for this, I hope it is not a Cartesian cause and effect thing or worse a backwards loop. And it is a marketing disaster. Plus I don't believe it.

My job as a writer is to get you to the end. I am selective as to audience, I make no attempt to write down or pander. I know I am a difficult writer (I have to amuse myself, first and foremost) so if you get to the end kudos to you, if you go back for a second pass, kudos to me.
As for you, one of your poems I looked at for days, that says something. One of WickedEve's I carried around for two weeks, that says something else. (I couldn't get it out of my head and I would burst out laughing at inappropriate places.)

Perhaps you are confusing me with WickedEve, she often wrote about Possumfuck VA. which is right down the road from Mayberry and in a way her style is closest to mine. You cannot pin her work down either, she is always showing you two or more things at once. She was just a lot more human.
ditto for annaswirls.