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beetrootjesuit said:Savage Blueberries of Europe
In my freezer
lurks a plastic sack
labeled “Europe’s Best”
and then in French
“Bleuets sauvage du boisé”
Ah, the savage woodland berry
in whose veins course
the ancestral blood
of those who battled Caesar.
Or perchance they marched
with Montfort
against Toulouse.
Perhaps they stood with Guillotine
against she-who-would-serve-cake.
Back in the freezer boys.
My guests are aged
and will find
such savagery
late in the meal
an impediment
to digestion.
Lose the plum sauce and all will be well.
Yes. I know. You threw it out ages ago.
:subtext:
TheRainMan said:Katrina’s Eyes
There had to be more than one.
No single eye could cry enough
to create this reservoir of sorrow,
the archipelago of rooftops
where the brave leap in gambits
of survival, where the mad
wave their arms like Moses
and the old do the slow fade,
where saints share the last bowl
of red beans and rice
as they wonder if rain
will ever be just rain again.
Do not forget that a poem, though composed in the language of information, is not used in the language-game of giving information.Sabina_Tolchovsky said:Tractatus ladder
Above or below,
never beside the natural
doomed to be nonsense
unsinnig or at best sinnlos
set the limits of sense
with reference
bedeutung
or name
held together by logical form
a distinction between saying and showing
the activity of clarification
see the world rightly
with the bi-polarity of propositions
"whereof one cannot speak,
thereof one must be silent"
for Tzara
Wittgenstein has always been a favorite of mine...thanks.
Angeline said:Under the microscope
blood is a battlefield
chaos inside that appears
nothing when we are cut
without this constant slaughter
we would die
divine unpredictability at the base of harmony
There are no microscopes in heaven
~ Tathagata
Under the microscope
I'm one tear on glass dissolved
in the subworld that teems
disease to absolve my spirit
from the ache of memory,
the pitch of pride
where remorse gathers
storm clouds.
Give me sickness,
release the rain of forgetting.
Blood is a battlefield:
I welcome cell wars to grip me
in sneezes, scarlet throat,
stomach flops and I know
this is acceptable chaos
inside that appears to beckon
the haven of fever
where I can banish angst
to ashes without even trying.
Sleep is a gift of nothing
when we are cut.
Praise God for wounds
appeased in unconscious relief, prayer
without this constant slaughter.
Take it all: we would die finally
and thank divine unpredictability
that lies at the base of harmony:
Innisfree is letting go,
succumbing to the grace
of death, dropping the body,
lifting the spirit to silence
because there are no microscopes
in heaven.
Tzara said:Where in the World is Conrad Dimple?
Quo vadis, Conrad Dimple?
Better yet—where have you gone?
We miss you here in Mudville,
miss you lost in the Argonne.
Are you still spelunking
deep in cavern’s maw?
Or perhaps debunking
fuzzy logic? Flaying flaws?
Your authoress, supposing
that of you we tired,
perhaps has stopped composing
your adventures, wild and dire.
I hope she’ll reconsider.
She said she’d started chapter three.
Anticipating it, I dither,
writing sucky repartee.
Tzara said:Where in the World is Conrad Dimple?
Quo vadis, Conrad Dimple?
Better yet—where have you gone?
We miss you here in Mudville,
miss you lost in the Argonne.
Are you still spelunking
deep in cavern’s maw?
Or perhaps debunking
fuzzy logic? Flaying flaws?
Your authoress, supposing
that of you we tired,
perhaps has stopped composing
your adventures, wild and dire.
I hope she’ll reconsider.
She said she’d started chapter three.
Anticipating it, I dither,
writing sucky repartee.
TheRainMan said:I’ll be waiting,
wrapped around a banister,
sleeping
............on
.................the
......................stairs.
Change the light bulbs before you go.
Fflow said:Friends piss me off sometimes
Understanding is elusive
Compassion isn't a game anymore
Kings rule but I don't obey
Liar said:Hey Fflow,
Seriously? You gonna write 30 FUCK poems?
Funky.