Where does your inspiration come from?

[bogusagain]

I've been away so long I'm screwing everything up!

This post should be deleted but how?

 

[Tzara]

I've been away so long I'm screwing everything up!

This post should be deleted but how?

I don't think you have any way to delete posts. You can clear the text, but not delete them.

The moderators can move posts out of the thread, but I don't think even they can actually delete the post. Just move it to a hidden thread where it is effectively deleted from the forum.

 

[Tzara]

These lines

I was a lamppost against which
the dog weather cocked its leg

are both wonderfully descriptive and hilarious.

 

[Maria2394]

These lines

are both wonderfully descriptive and hilarious.

concerning bogusagain's poem with these lines-

I was a lamppost against which
the dog weather cocked its leg
a drizzle of urine down my neck
and a fart of wind in my face

I laughed so hard I need a Poise....but last night I was brushing my daughter's dog, Dexter. He is a Corgi/ Blue Heeler mix and is the smartest dog I have ever known, well, I was joking and said, Now, Dex, don't you let one rip in my face while I am doing this.... he looked around at me right about the time I felt a warmth hit my face and he bolted off the bed.


Now, I probably don't have to tell you this, but dog farts are silent, but DEADLY. I pulled a blanket up over my face and laughed and gagged at the same time and he climbed back onto the bed about ten minutes later, licking me, begging for forgiveness. I just wonder what he ate that made him smell like THAT!!!!! He is an inside dog and his diet is pretty much regulated, so it wasn't my fault, lol. I just won't be brushing his butt again any time soon.

And, Bogus? Your descriptions are almost TOO good but they are always spot on. You, my Michael Caine lookalike, are a very talented writer and I have always admired your work, just so ya know...

 

[bogusagain]

And, Bogus? Your descriptions are almost TOO good but they are always spot on. You, my Michael Caine lookalike, are a very talented writer and I have always admired your work, just so ya know...

After absorbing that I'm leaning against the doorframe with a fedora hat cocked over one eye and a cigarette hanging out the side of my mouth and saying ''My mother warned me of women like you.'

 

[Maria2394]

After absorbing that I'm leaning against the doorframe with a fedora hat cocked over one eye and a cigarette hanging out the side of my mouth and saying ''My mother warned me of women like you.'

That is a sexy image

But, I am a good girl. I would probably disappoint you

( I'm glad I deleted all those porn stories I wrote that would prove me wrong)

However, there is that one on Clean sheets if you are in the mood for some oral simulation... ( "t" omitted on purpose)

 

[bogusagain]

However, there is that one on Clean sheets if you are in the mood for some oral simulation... ( "t" omitted on purpose)

You're going to have to give me a lead. Is it a story or a poem?

I can see I'm going to need all I can get on you.

 

[Maria2394]

You're going to have to give me a lead. Is it a story or a poem?

I can see I'm going to need all I can get on you.

A while back, I had work posted here as Mia Moore, right now, there is no content under that name and I don't even use it for comments because I forgot the password.

I also used that name for my Clean Sheets submissions. They actually paid me 25 dollars for this story which was the going rate back when they accepted it. They are pretty cool people. They assigned an editor to help me spruce up the content and he was really nice and easy to work with but out of fifteen stories they only accepted one...this one-

http://www.cleansheets.com/fiction/moore_09.28.05.shtml

Last time I read it, it embarrassed me..I don't know why, but I guess I have changed over the years. Tzara calls it my "Brooks Brothers Story" . If I wrote it now, I would change several things.

Hope ya like it

 

[bogusagain]

http://www.cleansheets.com/fiction/moore_09.28.05.shtml

Last time I read it, it embarrassed me..I don't know why, but I guess I have changed over the years. Tzara calls it my "Brooks Brothers Story" . If I wrote it now, I would change several things.

Hope ya like it

I'll let you know what a hussy I think you are.

I suspect most of us are embarrassed by some of our old work, especially stuff involving sex and romance. It's the nature of such things.

 

[HELLRiDER_88]

Words that i said to my gf I keep them hearing in my head

Kill a motherfucker dead,
kill'em dead bitch
Shoot'em in the fuckin
head, go ahead bitch
Slap my mom, slap the
fuck outa her!
She cant sue you, she
wouldnt get a buck out of
you
Cuz your broke as fuck you
suck your a fuckin joke​

 

[bogusagain]

Words that i said to my gf I keep them hearing in my head

Kill a motherfucker dead,
kill'em dead bitch
Shoot'em in the fuckin
head, go ahead bitch
Slap my mom, slap the
fuck outa her!
She cant sue you, she
wouldnt get a buck out of
you
Cuz your broke as fuck you
suck your a fuckin joke​

With language like that, my mother would have slapped you about the head, called you 'your mother's shame' and would have locked you in the coal house until you learnt how to speak to a woman.

Can't help it, she hated bad language, especially when it was directed at women.

 

[Tzara]

Words that i said to my gf I keep them hearing in my head...

My, you are a bad muthafucka. I am scared of you.

 

[HELLRyDER_88]

My name's HELLRyDER
I'm also double-eight
I'm such a dumb-ass kid
all I can do is state
Someone else's lyric
cuz I cannot ever rhyme
even "love" with "dove"
or "doin time" with "dime"
I'm just a fanboy, see,
another fuckin wannabee
whose only talent is annoying
readers other than me
I don't wanna save the nation
I just wanna live my life
in my parents basement
with my right hand as my wife
So back off, man
or I'll quote Vanilla Ice
a older blond-haired dude
whose raps I think are pretty nice
I gotta used Mac an iPhone
but nary a friend
cuz I'm fourteen and I just landed
on detention again
So stay clear, fool,
I'll try to spell Mefostilees
for my fuckin dumb-ass school
sounds like a fuckin disease
But Im practicin my patter
I'll find the illest dj
and I'll make myself a million
once I find something to say​

 

[bronzeage]

My name's HELLRyDER
I'm also double-eight
I'm such a dumb-ass kid
all I can do is state
Someone else's lyric
cuz I cannot ever rhyme
even "love" with "dove"
or "doin time" with "dime"
I'm just a fanboy, see,
another fuckin wannabee
whose only talent is annoying
readers other than me
I don't wanna save the nation
I just wanna live my life
in my parents basement
with my right hand as my wife
So back off, man
or I'll quote Vanilla Ice
a older blond-haired dude
whose raps I think are pretty nice
I gotta used Mac an iPhone
but nary a friend
cuz I'm fourteen and I just landed
on detention again
So stay clear, fool,
I'll try to spell Mefostilees
for my fuckin dumb-ass school
sounds like a fuckin disease
But Im practicin my patter
I'll find the illest dj
and I'll make myself a million
once I find something to say​

Hey, hey we're the Monkees,
You never know where we'll be found.
So you'd better get ready,
We may be comin to your town.

Hey, hey we're the Monkees,
and people say we monkey around.
But we're too busy singing,
to put anybody down.

source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/themonkeeslyrics.html

 

[HELLRiDER_88]

With language like that, my mother would have slapped you about the head, called you 'your mother's shame' and would have locked you in the coal house until you learnt how to speak to a woman.

Can't help it, she hated bad language, especially when it was directed at women.

i can speak however i want whatever i want whenever i want... So if you don't like my shit you can suck my dick

Fuck slittin' her throat, cut this bitches head off

 

[bogusagain]

so if you don't like my shit you can suck my dick

I suspect such an homosexual act would scare the life out of you.

Or are you gay? Or do you suppress your gay side and it only comes out when you are angry?

You don't need to be shy. I doubt there are many homophobes on this site so you can be honest.

 

[bogusagain]

Back On Topic

I've been thinking about Tzara's question about inspiration while I've been collating and editing my poems of late to submit them for rejection, despite their being the obvious work of a genius. Most of my poems that I care about and feel were successful, I can pin point to particular moments or events.

1. An elderly bar friend of 72 suggested we go to a Jazz club he knew. As we began to walk to the club, he began to leap frog over bollards and leap frogged all the way to the club.

2. A hugely obese old folk singer who was a regular in my local bar and always sang and laughed, suddenly died of an heart attack in the bar.

3. I was in a bar in Kreuzberg watching the football on TV on Saturday afternoon when a bloke attached himself to me and told me about his self pitying life story.

4. The Concierge in my apartment block who religiously cleans the floors everyday at the same time in the same order. You can set your time by him.

5. Accidently meeting an old girlfriend from Paris decades ago in Berlin. We went to a cafe and had a drink. She told me about her life and her ex-husbands, all I could think about was her vagina.

6. On a train from Nantes to Paris, a young woman sat opposite me. She was more than beautiful, she was a work of art. When she got off the train at Orleans, she might as well have ripped my heart out.

7. An artist who has too many cats. When I first met her, she invited me round to her place the next day, giving me instructions how to get there. I thought it was to be the beginnings of an affair, which it was eventually, albeit a short one but the invitation was like having an interview with a witch. She was strange, a sort of look that is a cross between Morticia from the Munsters and Cruella de Ville with a psyche to match. (I must have been desperate)

Those are all old poems. What has inspired recently is again in a bar, surprise surprise. I had dodged into a bar I had never been in before to fortify myself to help me face up to a family gathering my daughter had persuaded me to attend. It was a bar full of grotesques. There were hugely overweight men playing darts, a group of loud mouth youths watching the promotion/relegation ply-offs on a large screen. All had their backs to a stripper doing her thing on a micro-stage, no bigger than a soap box. When I asked the barman for a drink he started telling me how to put the world to rights, while an old man next to me complained the strippers 'tits' weren't big enough and they didn't improve the beer anyway.

I have ambitions to write a long satirical poem based on the experience but maybe several small poems will arrive instead. It's difficult to say but I know something will be created from the experience.

 

[corndog_]

I've been thinking about Tzara's question about inspiration while I've been collating and editing my poems of late to submit them for rejection, despite their being the obvious work of a genius. Most of my poems that I care about and feel were successful, I can pin point to particular moments or events.

1. An elderly bar friend of 72 suggested we go to a Jazz club he knew. As we began to walk to the club, he began to leap frog over bollards and leap frogged all the way to the club.

2. A hugely obese old folk singer who was a regular in my local bar and always sang and laughed, suddenly died of an heart attack in the bar.

3. I was in a bar in Kreuzberg watching the football on TV on Saturday afternoon when a bloke attached himself to me and told me about his self pitying life story.

4. The Concierge in my apartment block who religiously cleans the floors everyday at the same time in the same order. You can set your time by him.

5. Accidently meeting an old girlfriend from Paris decades ago in Berlin. We went to a cafe and had a drink. She told me about her life and her ex-husbands, all I could think about was her vagina.

6. On a train from Nantes to Paris, a young woman sat opposite me. She was more than beautiful, she was a work of art. When she got off the train at Orleans, she might as well have ripped my heart out.

7. An artist who has too many cats. When I first met her, she invited me round to her place the next day, giving me instructions how to get there. I thought it was to be the beginnings of an affair, which it was eventually, albeit a short one but the invitation was like having an interview with a witch. She was strange, a sort of look that is a cross between Morticia from the Munsters and Cruella de Ville with a psyche to match. (I must have been desperate)

Those are all old poems. What has inspired recently is again in a bar, surprise surprise. I had dodged into a bar I had never been in before to fortify myself to help me face up to a family gathering my daughter had persuaded me to attend. It was a bar full of grotesques. There were hugely overweight men playing darts, a group of loud mouth youths watching the promotion/relegation ply-offs on a large screen. All had their backs to a stripper doing her thing on a micro-stage, no bigger than a soap box. When I asked the barman for a drink he started telling me how to put the world to rights, while an old man next to me complained the strippers 'tits' weren't big enough and they didn't improve the beer anyway.

I have ambitions to write a long satirical poem based on the experience but maybe several small poems will arrive instead. It's difficult to say but I know something will be created from the experience.

These are great images, especially juxtaposed against the family reunion!

I called you BB on another thread; I see you are BA now...

 

[bogusagain]

These are great images, especially juxtaposed against the family reunion!]

Thanks, well they weren't my images I suppose or maybe they are, in the same way photographer captures and image.

I called you BB on another thread; I see you are BA now...

I used to be BB, Bogusbrig but that account got deleted for some reason and I couldn't open it again so I decided to become Bogusagain.

 

[corndog_]

... There were hugely overweight men playing darts, a group of loud mouth youths watching the promotion/relegation ply-offs on a large screen. All had their backs to a stripper doing her thing on a micro-stage, no bigger than a soap box. When I asked the barman for a drink he started telling me how to put the world to rights, while an old man next to me complained the strippers 'tits' weren't big enough and they didn't improve the beer anyway....

I think you've got something glittering in the pan, here. The hard part is yet to come, of course: you've got to swirl and sift the sand from the ore.

Then walk back into the bar, drop your gold on the counter and buy a round for the house.

 

[Tzara]

I've been thinking about Tzara's question about inspiration while I've been collating and editing my poems of late to submit them for rejection...

Ha. I think I stopped submitting poems for publication for a reason very like the old Groucho Marx saying: I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.

I agree with Mr. Dog, though--those are great topics/images for poems.

 

[bogusagain]

Ha. I think I stopped submitting poems for publication for a reason very like the old Groucho Marx saying: I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.

I have a tendency to think, if they are foolish enough to have me, they damn well deserve everything they get!

I suspect that is why they never seem to want me.

 

[Maria2394]

I'll let you know what a hussy I think you are.

I suspect most of us are embarrassed by some of our old work, especially stuff involving sex and romance. It's the nature of such things.

You're precious. No one has called me a hussy in a vey long time. Kinda makes me feel all tingly inside

 

[Tzara]

Here's an example of inspiration: This one marvelous sentence—South of Utopia lies many a tumbled empire—plucked out of this thread in the Author's Hangout.

I am so stealing it, but I'm not quite sure how to credit Ben.

Suggestions are welcome, of course. As are ways of forming a poem from the sentence.





God, what a great line. Wish I had thought of it.

 

[champagne1982]

Here's an example of inspiration: This one marvelous sentence—South of Utopia lies many a tumbled empire—plucked out of this thread in the Author's Hangout.

I am so stealing it, but I'm not quite sure how to credit Ben.

Suggestions are welcome, of course. As are ways of forming a poem from the sentence.





God, what a great line. Wish I had thought of it.

Could you not turn it into a glosa?
South of Utopia
Swallow trails dipping
twisted floats downward
in a spiralled flitter to close
on an unsuspecting gasp

lies many
gulped back over libellous
tongues garbled in an absence
of verity and virtue abandoned
by the crowd in search of heaven

a tumbled empire.
jumbled across the foot
of the bed we created
a throne room habituated
by a royal tryst for two.

Or you can write an ekphrastic about what in hell you imagined could be running through Ben's brain at the time.