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Thread: Poetry by Twebbers

  1. #11
    tWebber Duragizer's Avatar
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    I don't write poetry very often, and when I do, it's usually mean-spirited song parodies. Here's one completely original poem of mine, however, be warned -- it is not an uplifting poem in the least.

    ...

    The Scary Door

    You are a faceless automaton -- without heart, without soul -- an instinct-driven anthropomorphic maggot designed to feast upon the ebon objects of your psyche-spawned desires. You have no purpose. You are Nothing.

    Then one day you make a discovery. You find love with a beautiful woman, a woman who acts as a mirror, reflecting the image of a pristine, shining paradise into the shadow-shrouded depths of your vestigial mind. As you find this Love, you also discover God. You enter a new stage of personal evolution, and begin to metamorphose from Homo vermis to Homo deus. The veil begins to lift from your vestigial mind, which begins to expand, allowing you to perceive the cosmos on a higher level than was previously possible.

    But then disaster strikes! You discover your love has been one-sided all this time, and that She has been your true god all along. She spurns your worship, and exiles you from Her presence. The God whom you falsely claimed to worship denies you in turn for your feigned alliegiance and becomes the Ignorer, the Silent God.

    You are cast out into the Outer Darkness. You devolve. No longer are you the burgeoning God Man, or even the original Maggot Man; you are now Vermis homo, the Man Maggot.

    Darkness no longer envelops your mind, for you no longer have a mind to speak of; you wail and gnash your teeth with all the awareness of a lobotomized amoeba. You are beyond purposeless; you are Less Than Nothing.

    As you lament and trevail, you finally find the One True God; It isn't your Love, or even the Silent God. The One True God is Time, and Death, Entropy, and the Destroyer of Worlds -- All-Powerful, All-Consuming Chaos.

    And It laughs at you -- this blind, deaf, and dumb Deity -- as you fall beyond ... The Scary Door.
    What is praised is one, so the praise is one too,
    many jugs being poured into a huge basin.
    All religions, all this singing, one song.
    The differences are just illusion and vanity.
    Sunlight looks a little different on this wall
    than it does on that wall
    and a lot different on this other one,
    but it is still one light.

    -- Rumi

  2. #12
    tWebber
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    Quote Originally Posted by Duragizer View Post
    I don't write poetry very often, and when I do, it's usually mean-spirited song parodies. Here's one completely original poem of mine, however, be warned -- it is not an uplifting poem in the least.

    ...

    The Scary Door

    You are a faceless automaton -- without heart, without soul -- an instinct-driven anthropomorphic maggot designed to feast upon the ebon objects of your psyche-spawned desires. You have no purpose. You are Nothing.

    Then one day you make a discovery. You find love with a beautiful woman, a woman who acts as a mirror, reflecting the image of a pristine, shining paradise into the shadow-shrouded depths of your vestigial mind. As you find this Love, you also discover God. You enter a new stage of personal evolution, and begin to metamorphose from Homo vermis to Homo deus. The veil begins to lift from your vestigial mind, which begins to expand, allowing you to perceive the cosmos on a higher level than was previously possible.

    But then disaster strikes! You discover your love has been one-sided all this time, and that She has been your true god all along. She spurns your worship, and exiles you from Her presence. The God whom you falsely claimed to worship denies you in turn for your feigned alliegiance and becomes the Ignorer, the Silent God.

    You are cast out into the Outer Darkness. You devolve. No longer are you the burgeoning God Man, or even the original Maggot Man; you are now Vermis homo, the Man Maggot.

    Darkness no longer envelops your mind, for you no longer have a mind to speak of; you wail and gnash your teeth with all the awareness of a lobotomized amoeba. You are beyond purposeless; you are Less Than Nothing.

    As you lament and trevail, you finally find the One True God; It isn't your Love, or even the Silent God. The One True God is Time, and Death, Entropy, and the Destroyer of Worlds -- All-Powerful, All-Consuming Chaos.

    And It laughs at you -- this blind, deaf, and dumb Deity -- as you fall beyond ... The Scary Door.
    No wonder I'm single.

  3. #13
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Cat Tongue Rag

    Damn! Cat hair’s a bear!
    Cat hair! Cat hair! Cat hair!
    Cat hair everywhere!
    My coat, black suit and chair!

    Rollers and brush.
    Roller here, brush there.
    Damp cloth or vacuum.
    Vacuum clogged and still more hair.

    Extreme measures brought to bear,
    Cut-stitch, cut-stitch, and cut-stitch again.
    Maybe ten or twenty to take the hair.
    Snip stitch, snip, stitch, and snip, stitch again.

    Damn! Cat hair’s a bear!
    Clip- stitch, Clip-stitch, and clip-stitch again!
    It will take a hundred to bring to bear.
    Yep! One hundred cat tongues in a square.

    Cat tongue rag removed the hair.
    Off with all the cat hair.
    Coat, black suit and chair.
    Gag! Gag! Hair balls everywhere.

    After d’tongues, go d'tails

    Frank A Doonan
    The Orange Dog Poet of Hillsborough
    Last edited by shunyadragon; 10-30-2014 at 10:15 PM.
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  4. #14
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Yes, the Theory of gravity always will apply,
    whether ten stories or sixty,
    but in reality we do not know why.
    The theory of gravity remains a mystery.

    As to where we go when reasons path ends,
    remains a mystery without end,
    some believe it is back again, and again.
    others believe it is streets of gold or Satan's BBQ in the end.

    Some say nothing is the blessing,
    others just say don't know.
    most say their way is best bet going.
    More then likely nobody for sure knows.

    God is not a chess player
    with the white pieces.
    God is the sea,
    and we are the fishes.
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  5. #15
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Recited to the music of a Billie Holiday song.

    Where have the sons, brothers and fathers gone?

    Where have the sons, brothers, and fathers gone?
    Brothers take them every one
    Chained to the dark holds of ships one by one
    With the daughters, mothers and sisters in darkness.

    Gone to dock to property on the block
    Gone to be sold and never to be seen
    The capital of farm and industry
    Leaving mothers, daughters, sons and sisters again.

    Where are the sons, brothers, and fathers gone?.
    When will they be free? Chains traded for chains to meet the greed.
    Gone to fill the prisons everyone.
    Penal peonage for our railroads and industry need
    Leaving daughters, sisters, and mothers alone servitude.

    ‘Willow weep for me
    Willow weep for me
    Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
    Listen to my plea
    Hear me willow and weep for me
    Gone my lovely dreams
    Lovely summer dreams
    Gone and left me here
    To weep my tears along the stream.’*


    *Willow Weep For Me Billie Holiday

    Where are the sons, brothers and fathers gone?
    Hanging in silent darkness, no justice everyone.
    Leaving daughters, wives, sisters, and mothers alone.
    Nor hallowed ground to rest in peace.
    Hanging in the silent darkness alone.

    ‘Southern trees bear strange fruit
    Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
    Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
    Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees’*

    *Strange Fruit by Billie Holliday


    Where have the sons, brothers, and fathers gone?
    Gone to the street, alley, and curb alone.
    Soul owned by black Lincoln in a shark suit
    White powder in neat rows.
    Death painless in a snow storm on a July night
    Leaving the daughters, wives, sisters, and mothers alone.

    ‘Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
    Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
    Little white flowers will never awaken you
    Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
    Angels have no thoughts of ever returning you
    Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
    Gloomy Sunday*


    *Gloomy Sunday Billie Holiday

    Where are the sons, brothers, and fathers gone?
    Gone to the fields, rivers, and shack where the Blues live.
    Jungle acts and Minstrel demean to entertain
    Jazz and Blues in the back door with dignity regained.
    Leaving the sisters, daughters, and mothers again

    Where are the sons, brothers and fathers gone?
    Blood in the alley, the isle and door step.
    Rain washes away the blood, but not the stain.
    Leaving the daughters, wives and mothers to weep.

    ‘Yes, the strong gets more
    While the weak ones fade
    Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
    Mama may have, papa may have
    But God bless the child that's got his own
    That's got his own*’


    *God Bless The Child Billie Holiday

    Billie! Billie! Billie!
    Over 200 years of repression and fears
    You lived, suffered and died the Blues.
    We can only honor and acknowledge you
    Your journey over the centuries singing the Blues.

    Frank Doonan
    The Orange Dog Poet.
    Last edited by shunyadragon; 05-19-2015 at 10:59 PM.
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  6. #16
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Allah or God, God or Allah.

    Allāhu akbar, Allāhu akbar
    God is greatest, God is greatest

    Praised in all Abrahamic faiths,
    Allah is God on the highest.
    Lost in worn human epitaphs
    Of arrogance and exclusive forgiveness.

    Offer call to prayer from the sacred stone towers
    Of Duke Chapel in naïve tolerance,
    And flowery hopes of dialogue, and good well
    Where righteous ancient causes bred violence.

    Ash-hadu an-lā ilāha illā allāh
    I bear witness, there is no other God but God.

    Proclaimed before God called to Abraham
    Ancient walls echo how many Gods are God.
    Dark chasms in stone remain between
    Call to pray to Allah, or prayer call to God

    Call to prayer barred from majestic stone spires
    In delusions of beyond ecumenism
    Doomed to failure all will not agree
    Set in stone human divisions and isms

    Ash-hadu anna Mohamadan-Rasul ullāh
    I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah

    General Lee stands Guard, USA or CSA1
    Sword drawn in defense.
    This line will not be crossed,
    Mohammad is not God of forgiveness

    Frank Graham pronounces no tolerance
    A gentle tug on the piano wire
    Hallowed spires reaching for heaven fearing disobedience
    Tightens the purse strings just enough.
    .
    For Allah is not the true God
    Doctrine and dogma trumps
    There will no call to prayer in the name of God
    Denial enshrined in stone, lead and glass

    . . . and the sign reads TOLERENCE ENDS.2

    Frank A. Doonan


    1. Statue General Lee on the right side of the main entrance of the Duke Chapel. Does the belt buckle read CSA or USA? It appears partially cut off.
    2. Load limit signs found around the Durham area.
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  7. #17
    Evolution is God's ID rogue06's Avatar
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    A haiku that was on the top of a letter I got a few months ago:

    Oh I love bacon

    Crispy is the best way to

    Prepare it oh yeah.

    And with that I declare this thread won as per Jed's Law.

    I'm always still in trouble again

  8. Amen shunyadragon amen'd this post.
  9. #18
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Dragons, Villains and Spies

    Mom and Dad have gone to town!
    The dragons and villains are about!
    Time to rally the heroes at the barn!
    The call to valor and glory

    Mount the red and white Schwinn stead
    Charging down the driveway
    With plans of heroes deeds
    Slaying dragons and defeating evil ways

    Red cape flapping in the wind!
    High wheelies and ramp jumps
    Playing card jet motors roaring
    Skids in the gravel humps
    Black Mack snapping at my tires

    Heroes gather in the hay loft
    Glow in the dark decoder rings
    flashed from beneath capes
    Passwords guard against villains.
    Outlooks report approaching enemy

    Cat’s eyes spy in the dark loft
    The evil swans and geese stalking.
    The paper wasps circling.
    The unseen evil villains in shadows lurking
    Plans whispered in hay bale tunnels and ramparts

    Feed lot scoured for ammunition
    Some cow pies wet and nasty
    Mud balls and Mule turds hard and round
    Burlap bags loaded carefully

    Villains surround the hero alliance.
    Dragon swans and evil villains repulsed.
    The villains disbursed triumphant
    The counter attack repelled.

    Raced home in time for lunch,
    Torn jeans, and cow pie and dug ball wounds.
    Stripped and hosed off in the front yard.
    Mom and Dad brought home balloons
    I dream for another victorious day

    Frank A. Doonan
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  10. #19
    tWebber arnoldo's Avatar
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    Hidden old pond
    green frog jumps
    water splash

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