2010 ILE poetry CONTEST! unleash the narwhals

I wrote a poem tonight! It's about a 15 year-old snooker prodigy.

The Lucubrations Of Luca Brecel

drown down from the bedroom
no sensation, subaqueous
when all playthings are dense

anchor-strewn baize mentor
stumble then glide
like leaving a nest

tonight only one boy bears the trident
one boy falls to rest

silt-settle acrylics
cold effluvium
spin across
in shadow-congress

or tidally back
and inside each droplet is a god
particle instantly vanquishing itself

as it disappears into holes
dug by methane worms or oil workers
lined with nets to catch bathyspheres
and return them safely to the sea-bed

tonight only one boy naps
and flicking his nap are anglerfish
the shade of red you can’t see
because it’s pressurised blindness

marking dreamy channels
in the deep green
with a child’s taut assurance
he joins shots for this
hidden ecosystem
fragile to the softest kick
broken at chalky baize
mentor
friend or
cue for
insomnia
surface, O champion
and let the strands of kelp
spill from your shoulders

nice

And it's all true, too.

http://rapidshare.com/files/391434971/02_-_Amnesia.mp3

here's that song as recorded

it is kind of corny

but I love it

thanks A, also BUMP

Another BUMP in the night. Poets take heed! May is leaking away like piss from an infant.

hey britishers this your chance to launch a sneak offensive, all the united americans will be distracted with memorial day celebrations on may 31

if I hadn't shot my wad I'd possibly write a poem called Sneak Offensive now

struck by another's sneak offensive

finalized closing date is June 30.. no excuses
if a mod wants to add that to the OP or thread title, feel free

i am experiencing some excruciating leg pain today and i can't even think about finishing my poem
but I did find creativity in me to start a poem yesterday and hopefully june will bring out the narwhals in us all

I finished my poem while having a dislocated shoulder reset, and now the resonance of my topical submission will be sadly muted.

but, by all means. if poets didn't procrastinate they'd write novels.

i am simply embarrassed to admit that my 2009 submission was the last poem that i wrote. but i'll work one out for this year, too. promise.

!!!!!

Lest we forget...

yeah more ppl plz or I will submit again THAT IS A PROMISE NOT A THREAT

We never go downtown

I need cable internet access
so I can look at more furry porn,
is what I eventually said,
because the landlord said
he kind of wanted to know why there was a bucket truck
instead of the sun, something of the divine
in this exchange, like realizing suddenly
you are indifferent to God
in the middle of an orgasm.
And then, I think, a moment of silence
before grinning at the weather,
small red birds and water everywhere, what a planet,
but cold cocks
my fuzzy thoughts with his talk
of snow and late winter-
bums shit everywhere, what a disaster,
so let's just wipe our noses
and think about where does that shit go to
because a man who, you know, likes to watch
dudes dressed as animals get it on, well,
maybe he thinks in a different way
than I do, maybe he knows things. But really,
I don't know, so we just wipe our noses
and stare enigmatically at the bucket truck.

Sometimes I see other people wipe their noses on their sleeves
so now I look for the residue on most everyone and everything
but it's not always the thing you think it is
is the thing, so sometimes you've got to really think about it. He's thinking
and then he says, far off someplace,
they actually make that stuff, well, I always knew
there was a market.

nice!

yes that is breezy stuff

okay lazies, including myself, time to focus for just 1 day

still think mordy's poem is awesome at just one stanza:

"Heavy Metal God"

They talk about Him
like he's an old man, withered body --
-- so tired from creating Earth, animals, the genre formerly
and simply known as heavy metal but now varied as
death metal, technical metal, math metal, Scandinavian melodic
Eurovision-tailored horror pop --
his eyes are dim and he sits on mountaintops a lot
promising transcendence.
Or maybe He is actually a She,
flowing long blond hair I imagine much like a Lady Godiva,
her breath smells like chocolate liqueur like
lazy Sunday mornings
Earth goddesses read Tikkun Magazine,
contemplate World Peace,
in grace.
Kabbalists, working from scripts say
that you can't contemplate the unknown
unknow the known the unknown the beyond
the limits of human language the grasping of
verbs and nouns to delineate spaces that cannot
be grasped somewhere
that isn't there
that isn't anywhere
that isn't isn't.
Whatever.
That gives you headaches to consider and anyway,
I have a competitive theory.

the end is coming...

ppl I am missing

beth parker
elmo
jaymc
a hoy hoy

make it happen

be the word and not its absence

when i was supposed to have 4 hours to write this today, my mum got drunk and made me take care of her shit at the hospital and i had no 4 hr period to write an icp-themed ditty.

ouch, sorry bout that, sounds like good material for a poem tho

if nobody else posts a poem before midnight NYC time I am posting a second poem

hope its about mark ronson or rafa benitez or both

thing is I've written poetry since the one I submitted that I prefer to it

but hey - a promise is a promise. cock remains in pants.

Well you can post for kicks

I'm not going to submit anything because I can't think of anything and I have a migraine
Tomorrow I can make the poll.. so anything posted before I make the poll tomorrow is submittable
I won't make the poll until around 2 p.m. NYC time (July 1st).

ugh no elmo ;_;

So if anyone is wondering, I am forcing myself to write a poem at the moment. I'll give the contest another hour or so

okay, since I'm giving myself an unfair advantage, yall can have until 8 p.m. MYC time
please take advantage of this opportunity
today is a good day for creativity
you might want to scrap your original poem if it was holding you back

erm yall have 'til 8 pm NYC time tonight
this is your last chance to have fun playing with words. ever

is that radio silence i'm hearing?

really really really fucken want to switch poems but i swore...god DAMMIT