Meta Perspective

[No Bagles]

        Zoom out
    and all we are

Plato to Plutonium
Ur to Urban

will fade to
a few dead
boulders
piled
like
so

and named
like so:
Baghdad, Tehnoclitan, Xanadu, Abbey Road

absolution amends abstrution amplification
of unmatched absurdities
                                          all transparent
                                          traceless
recorded history without
the right media reader
will reduce it all

golden brandy - dinosaur spit and bacterial soup
combined to alledged magic

Descartes is white noise
                            blended with diaper commersials
                            and the prattle of sexaholic soccer moms
                            on the verge of breakdown...
                    breakthrough...
            breakup...
    braking?

No, fuck, wait...
I'm there again

Unfocus    -    Zoom out
it will all come clear

        only then

 

[BlueskyBeauty]

pour me a cup of whatever your drinking!

 

[Maria2394]

please make mine a double~~~

love that dinosaur spit line
I used one cloud spit and ocular rain, lol

welcome to the bored, I mean, board

 

[No Bagles]

de nada friends
my poison is stout - bar is open, choose your own

/nob


Zoochology

canine contemplation:
        a dogs knows better
        remebers to sniff
        before kissing butts

feline contemplation:
        purr to the bipedal morons
        and they bring food
        leave quadropedal butt sniffing
        morons alone

bovine contemplation:
        moo
        grass good
        eat grass
        or actually just
        moo

 

[WickedEve]

Hi, No B.

Love the poem. Lots of great images. Have you submitted this to literotica, yet? Make sure when you do that you turn on public comments. I'm sure you'll get a lot of good feedback.

 

[No Bagles]

forgive an old git in need of tech support -- the submission process: where do i go? what do i do? who do i bribe?

/nob


The inverted logic of trees

Spring,
naked black fingers
tickle the sky to weep rain
and laugh sunshine

Summer,
while we shed our leaves
they wrap themselves sweaty
in forest green cardigans

Autumn,
to falling mercury bars
their blankets rust
and are cast aside

Winter,
naked black limbs
surrendered again to ice
suffer in silence

 

[Guest]

forgive an old git in need of tech support -- the submission process: where do i go? what do i do? who do i bribe?

No such thing in here as (old gits). I really think you should submit your work!

If you click on "Story Index" link which you'll find at the bottom of the page the instructions are there and will guide you.

Bribes don't seem to work in here - I tried.

 

[No Bagles]

tristesse, thank you - i navigated myself there and posted a few scribbles

they are nowhere to be found - submissions are screened and audited I guess? a good thing I'm patient.

no git you say? all git and proud.

Git

Caned,
but able
like Cain
and Abel -
ready to set new footprints on virginal ground.
In the starting blocks
to single-handedly breed
the world full of consultants,
con artists, connoisseurs and confessers.

But this time
              no ineffectual idiosyncrasy
              - adolescent views askew by
going       the       distance       night and again.

Yeah well you know, it's still and always
            mind
            over
            matter
- and for a final stolen one liner punch;
if you don't mind, I won't let it matter.

// Kacper 2002 //

 

[No Bagles]

Hi, No B.

Love the poem. Lots of great images. Have you submitted this to literotica, yet? Make sure when you do that you turn on public comments. I'm sure you'll get a lot of good feedback.

thank you eve. i did and did.

it seems however as if the public eye didn't do my poems any good. if numbers reported are to be trusted, i was both more read and communicated with when publishing the poems right here

i'm here to share and get new ideas. if that is more resident - and poetic souls are more active - on the bulletin than outside it, this is where my poems go

 

[tungtied2u]

thank you eve. i did and did.

it seems however as if the public eye didn't do my poems any good. if numbers reported are to be trusted, i was both more read and communicated with when publishing the poems right here

i'm here to share and get new ideas. if that is more resident - and poetic souls are more active - on the bulletin than outside it, this is where my poems go

Fear not nob. If you want feedback, try the poetry under construction thread. Ask for input- you'll get it.

But don't forget to post under your new submission,as there are those who don't frequent the threads, but can nonetheless provide useful feedback.

Don't be discouraged, sometimes you'll hit a stretch where it seems everyone is doing something other than reading you.

Be persistent and keep writing.

 

[No Bagles]

Fear not nob. If you want feedback, try the poetry under construction thread. Ask for input- you'll get it.

But don't forget to post under your new submission,as there are those who don't frequent the threads, but can nonetheless provide useful feedback.

Don't be discouraged, sometimes you'll hit a stretch where it seems everyone is doing something other than reading you.

Be persistent and keep writing.

no fear in here friend

just a geezer trying to figure out the ins and outs. every community works in a different way and has it's own rules - or maybe not rules as such, 'routines' is a better word

when i wonder about things like that, i just have the rude habit of plain out asking. it hurts nobody and i only risk my own embarrassment, which isn't easily awoken

i looked at the forum as the place to be and connect, and the public display as that - a public display. but i realise that the two connect in more ways than i first thought. daily reviews and feedback opportunity leads back to the forum people

i hope to contribute with some feedback and crit too, but my online time is limited

/nob

Sky

Tonight the dome glows
like a dome just can't,
(you would say)
not actually for real, right?

Mirages of racing Laputa rocks
skims the horizon,
spider web superstratic
mist trails shift from purple black
to cotton candy pink
and back, an impossible
(again, you)
caleidoscope of cloud,
until reaching zenith.

Then evaporate
with the cyan to black enigma
into a deep space vacuum.
Constellations wink in jest
behind our backs.

And the moon,
well,
the moon is nowhere
to be found.