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And in the end, me and my religious friends - had a game in which / , after twenty-five hours of the same religious beliefs, we did not believe, and also believed. Let a set - out delivery / story. Not like a religious story at all; some who think about it. / To appreciate literature / you may have to have a bit of empathy / or sympathy for the Devil. // if we hadn't fallen, there'd be no need for art, or love. - - D. H. Lawrence simplified things / to the point of complexities, / Someone shit themselves / / in order to make it easier / / / / for everyone else. / And everyone revolted, / whether consciously or unconsciously / / they wanted chicken on Saturday, / chicken or hotdogs on Sunday, / heroin on Tuesday of life. / Some people / / beg, red, fully cautioned for / / / before the point. / The assassins on these conscious scales, / these Boston Massacres. / - - - In the end, we have a teedle, a bump, / and someone has their lives and someone / / / / / / / / don't . / ' ' In all, 's misunderstanding / after that.
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10-29-2016, 08:04 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-29-2016, 08:16 AM by CRNDLSM.)
I got this mixed up with the Samson one, I thought of crocodile hunter as Samson trusting those wild animals again and again
By the way, why all the slashes? Personal style?
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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This one fell apart at the end, and inspired the Samson one. So you're partly right.
The first part of the book I was using slashes and dashes to emulate pieces of poems in paragraphs in poetry criticism. But I started using it more when I use a cheap phone that doesn't let me make linebreaks.
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(10-25-2016, 12:56 PM)rowens Wrote: And in the end, me and my religious friends - had a game in which,
after twenty-five hours of the same religious beliefs, we did not believe, and also believed. Let a set - out delivery
story. Not like a religious story at all; some who think about it.
To appreciate literature
you may have to have a bit of empathy
or sympathy for the Devil.
if we hadn't fallen, there'd be no need for art, or love. - - D. H. Lawrence simplified things
to the point of complexities,
Someone shit themselves
in order to make it easier
for everyone else.
And everyone revolted,
whether consciously or unconsciously
they wanted chicken on Saturday,
chicken or hotdogs on Sunday,
heroin on Tuesday of life.
Some people
beg, red, fully cautioned for
before the point.
The assassins on these conscious scales,
these Boston Massacres.
- - - In the end, we have a teedle, a bump,
and someone has their lives and someone
don't .
' ' In all, 's misunderstanding
after that.
That's tough, didn't get the dashes, pretty cool though
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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Well, it looks even worse without the benefit of its gimmicks. But they're not gimmicks, I'll call them stressing sores or Stressing-Sores or just Sores. Sores in Breakdown patterns, like you look at a poem with blackeyes and a broken jaw and an inhuman expression all marked up.
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You're good, rowens. (And even better if you'd just leave it at that.)
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
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My experience with readers is, Your writing is very good but: And that But goes on indefinitely. So I keep trying to jerk off until my penis gulps out my whole prostate. Like John's head on a plate to impress the ever fickle Salome with her tight, luscious ass.
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(10-31-2016, 01:43 AM)rowens Wrote: My experience with readers is, Your writing is very good but: And that But goes on indefinitely.
So I keep trying to jerk off until my penis gulps out my whole prostate. Like John's head on a plate
to impress the ever fickle Salome with her tight, luscious ass. Right, got it, let me rephrase that:
"You're good, rowens, but you'd be better if you'd just leave it at that."
Yeah, you're right, that sounds (vis-à-vis you) much better.
... that doesn't happen when I masturbate, but then, I never found Salomé to be that fickle --
we all have our needs.
Bye for now, my orgone accumulator beckons,
Ray
P.S. Tonight, when I was giving Halloween candy to a winsome young lass (five if she was a day),
I noticed her father was carrying a machete. I quickly gave her extra candy and realized an
instant later that this was just the sort of suspicious activity he'd been looking for all evening.
In the future, I'll make sure that children are alone before I offer them candy.
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
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She is fickle and legion. Kids don't trick or treat here anymore. Halloween is the darkest, most quiet evening of the year. No porchlights, no voices and laughter of children or sounds of their parents' cars. None of that energy that charges the air when people are out and about.
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Love the flow of this poem Rowens and the conviction of what your trying to say and the how it is presented as well.
Poetry is the unexpected utterance of the soul
Mark Nepo
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