There's a man in a pitch black hat And his underwear's made of mud He jumps like a pouncing cat And he lands with a sickening thud His head is surrounded by ravens The plague has progressed to his heart Best that you meet him clean shaven Cos his razor is not kept sharp And he's wearing a wooden overcoat
He's known in the underworld He lives in the undergrowth And he's knowingly undersold Though he's never been under oath His devil's are arrayed in armies And his angels will fix the fight He'll shape you like origami And throw you away at night And he's wearing a wooden overcoat
His house is a damp museum And all of his servants worms Mating in mausoleums Licking the floor for germs And his cabinet's full of wonders There's specimens everywhere He's negative six feet under And has to submerge for air And he's wearing a wooden overcoat
Don't ever act too humble Don't eat away thy heart He's tearing apart each dungeon His tail's an evil dart And he's wearing a wooden overcoat
J.W. Harding
(my favourite thing ever - set to music, but a poem nonetheless)
― Kim, Saturday, 10 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-two years ago) link
Andy Goram Broke My Heart by Will Ferguson
It’s artificial to stop the ballat this point.But Goram does: in a minute.The goal’s already shelved, the ball relaxedafter its blaat through November’sstubborn air, filedin its sleeve of net.Already shelved, when the lump of skinhits it: Goram.Time stopped as a vector:all motion, no direction, a sequenceof unitary incidents staringat the full, stop second:blaat, shelved, lump, disappointment.The trick was ‘don’t tell gravity’;how it pulls from-to the inevitable,toward a net of comfort, the habitualdwelling. Goram didn’t tell gravity,leapt and landed, a dumb thud of skinon ground; the ball resting,safefrom its shelf.A language my children(my memory’s trickery)can’t understand or even begin tograze its meaning; like lightpeeking through pock-marksin pit-dark curtains, they’re unable to source or context it.
― dwh (dwh), Monday, 9 December 2002 22:02 (twenty-one years ago) link
summer every minute of every day is endless and too short. every glance i find every man i hide from feels like the end of the road. so i take it off and put it on. i take it off and put it on. i let him watch and go on and on. i let him watch i pose i arch myself over my doubts shortcomings surely turn someone on.
― Surmounter, Wednesday, 30 July 2008 14:39 (fifteen years ago) link
all of you please find the heights of my regard the lengths to which i would go for you. all of you please listen when i sing your praises i can't help but see your faces in these late hours. all of you please see the limits of my charms and carry them with you carry me with you take me on. all of you please, even though i don't know how to show you take me on. please take me on.
― Surmounter, Wednesday, 30 July 2008 16:23 (fifteen years ago) link
a catalogue of emergencies which i will feign to help you bail on an annoying friend
-My roommate lit my cat on fire and stole my car.-I have been kidnapped by Nazis. For ransom they are demanding the hair of an ex punk girl.-Werewolves have stolen my wardrobe and I am naked in the middle of South Congress.-I am drowning. Come get me.-Mars is entering the seventh house and my self destructive proclivities are becoming more pronounced so I need you to remove this scotch bottle from my mouth if you've got a minute to spare.
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, 17 June 2009 05:12 (fourteen years ago) link
catalog, obviously
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, 17 June 2009 08:37 (fourteen years ago) link
For the man with the erection lasting more than four hoursHe’s supposed to call his doctor, but for now he’s the May King with his own maypole.He’s hallelujah, he’s glory hole. The world has more women than he can shake a stickat. The world is his brickbat, no conscience to prick at, all of us Germans he can ichliebe dich at. He’s Dick and Jane. He’s Citizen Kane. He’s Bob Dole.He’s Peter the Great. He’s a tsar. He’s a clown car with an extra car.Funiculí, Funilucá. He’s an organ donor. He works pro boner. He’s folderol.He’s fiddlesticks. He’s the light left on at Motel 6. He’s free-for-alls.He’s Viagra Falls. He’s bangers and mash. He’s balderdash. He’s a wanker.He’s got his own anchor. He’s whack-a-doodle. King Canoodle. He’s a pirate, Long JohnSilver, walking his own plank. He has science to thank. He’s in like Flynn. He’s Gunga Din.,holding his breath, cock of the walk through the valley of the shadow of death. He’s Icarus,hickery dickarous, the mouse run up the clock. He’s shock and awe. He’s Arkansas.He’s the package, the deal, the Good Housekeeping Seal. He’s Johnson & Johnson.He’s a god now, the talk of the town. He’s got no place too go but down. —John Hodgen
He’s supposed to call his doctor, but for now he’s the May King with his own maypole.He’s hallelujah, he’s glory hole. The world has more women than he can shake a stickat. The world is his brickbat, no conscience to prick at, all of us Germans he can ichliebe dich at. He’s Dick and Jane. He’s Citizen Kane. He’s Bob Dole.He’s Peter the Great. He’s a tsar. He’s a clown car with an extra car.Funiculí, Funilucá. He’s an organ donor. He works pro boner. He’s folderol.He’s fiddlesticks. He’s the light left on at Motel 6. He’s free-for-alls.He’s Viagra Falls. He’s bangers and mash. He’s balderdash. He’s a wanker.He’s got his own anchor. He’s whack-a-doodle. King Canoodle. He’s a pirate, Long JohnSilver, walking his own plank. He has science to thank. He’s in like Flynn. He’s Gunga Din.,holding his breath, cock of the walk through the valley of the shadow of death. He’s Icarus,hickery dickarous, the mouse run up the clock. He’s shock and awe. He’s Arkansas.He’s the package, the deal, the Good Housekeeping Seal. He’s Johnson & Johnson.He’s a god now, the talk of the town. He’s got no place too go but down.
—John Hodgen
― Beth Parker, Tuesday, 23 June 2009 01:41 (fourteen years ago) link
TO go. sorry for fucking up last line.
― Beth Parker, Tuesday, 23 June 2009 01:42 (fourteen years ago) link
what is this? a work in progress? I dunno:
Infinite Streets
birdwings slap in the squareand a distant mothering cryechoes through canyons of stone
then there, unexpected,a blast of grass untouchedbeside the black canal
― 鬼の手 (Edward III), Tuesday, 23 June 2009 01:48 (fourteen years ago) link
We quarreled that morning,For he was sixty-five, and I was thirty,And I was nervous and heavy with the childWhose birth I dreaded.I thought over the last letter written meBy that estranged young soulWhose betrayal of me I had concealedBy marrying the old man.Then I took morphine and sat down to read.Across the blackness that came over my eyesI see the flickering light of these words even now:"And Jesus said unto him, VerilyI say unto thee, To-day thou shaltBe with me in paradise."
― Daniel, Esq., Sunday, 20 September 2009 02:42 (fourteen years ago) link
Jonas Keene thought his lot a hard oneBecause his children were all failures.But I know of a fate more trying than that:It is to be a failure while your children are successes.For I raised a brood of eaglesWho flew away at last, leaving meA crow on the abandoned bough.Then, with the ambition to prefixHonorable to my name,And thus to win my children's admiration,I ran for County Superintendent of Schools,Spending my accumulations to win-- and lost.That fall my daughter received first prize inParis For her picture, entitled, "The Old Mill"--(It was of the water mill before Henry Wilkin put in steam.)The feeling that I was not worthy of her finished me.
― Daniel, Esq., Sunday, 20 September 2009 02:45 (fourteen years ago) link
a catalogue of emergencies which i will feign to help you bail on an annoying friend-My roommate lit my cat on fire and stole my car.-I have been kidnapped by Nazis. For ransom they are demanding the hair of an ex punk girl.-Werewolves have stolen my wardrobe and I am naked in the middle of South Congress.-I am drowning. Come get me.-Mars is entering the seventh house and my self destructive proclivities are becoming more pronounced so I need you to remove this scotch bottle from my mouth if you've got a minute to spare.― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, June 17, 2009 5:12 AM (9 months ago) Bookmark
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, June 17, 2009 5:12 AM (9 months ago) Bookmark
holy fuck talk about a time and a place
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Monday, 29 March 2010 06:20 (fourteen years ago) link
and a terribly formed "poem"
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Monday, 29 March 2010 06:22 (fourteen years ago) link
The Skull Ring - Chelsey Minnis
I am very excited about the skull ring.I didn't know anyone would thinkI wanted a silver skull ring.Now, when I am rude to those who oppose me,I can just look down at the skull ring.It has ruby chips in the eyes!Ruby chips like the nasty flame in my own eyeswhen I am insulted or reviled.No one will dare oppose me nowin my own hometown.For a very long time I have avoided ringsbecause none of them seemed right for me.A skull ring is actually a good complementto my diabolical will.Thank you very much for the skull ring.
― iiiijjjj, Monday, 29 March 2010 18:59 (fourteen years ago) link
Hot damn I love this opening couplet from Speech by Walter de la Mare; it's perfect -
The robin's whistled staveIs tart as half-ripened fruit;
― Pork Pius V (GamalielRatsey), Thursday, 4 November 2010 15:27 (thirteen years ago) link
i carry your heart with me(i carry it inmy heart)i am never without it(anywherei go you go,my dear; and whatever is doneby only me is your doing,my darling)i fearno fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i wantno world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)and it's you are whatever a moon has always meantand whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows(here is the root of the root and the bud of the budand the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which growshigher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
popular yes, but my favorite.
― Str8 Drapin It (chrisv2010), Thursday, 4 November 2010 15:49 (thirteen years ago) link
https://i.imgur.com/MtGyqmY.png
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Friday, 13 June 2014 06:49 (nine years ago) link
drunk hoos appears to have left sober hoos a present in the rolling drafts doc
http://i.imgur.com/7iquddC.png
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, 27 August 2014 18:06 (nine years ago) link
A+ Berryman tweets
― lars von (Treeship), Wednesday, 27 August 2014 18:10 (nine years ago) link
hoosteen bores me, with his plights and gripes as bad as achilles
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, 27 August 2014 18:25 (nine years ago) link
lol ty tho
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Wednesday, 27 August 2014 18:26 (nine years ago) link
http://i.imgur.com/M1h3fj1.jpg
― example (crüt), Tuesday, 3 January 2017 03:20 (seven years ago) link
that is a gr-r-reat poem
― rap is dad (it's a boy!), Wednesday, 4 January 2017 01:59 (seven years ago) link
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DoqNoVKXoAA4tOq.jpg
― calzino, Thursday, 4 October 2018 11:51 (five years ago) link
Thought the revive would be because today is NATIONAL POETRY DAY
― the word dog doesn't bark (anagram), Thursday, 4 October 2018 12:12 (five years ago) link
probably why it popped on my feed earlier.
― calzino, Thursday, 4 October 2018 12:37 (five years ago) link
is that a Limmy
― imago, Thursday, 4 October 2018 13:29 (five years ago) link
of course it's a Limmy, I don't even need to ask
Robert Florence "most popularly known for starring in the popular BBC comedy sketch show Burnistoun" he's probably very bad, everyone from the comedy world is!
― calzino, Thursday, 4 October 2018 13:36 (five years ago) link
I really like this poem by Alberto Ríos
It is blunt, but lovely. And both an elegy and benediction. It reminds me a little of Larkin's 'High Wires'
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/house-called-tomorrow
A House Called TomorrowAlberto Ríos, 1952You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen—You are a hundred wild centuries
And fifteen, bringing with youIn every breath and in every step
Everyone who has come before you,All the yous that you have been,
The mothers of your mother,The fathers of your father.
If someone in your family tree was trouble,A hundred were not:
The bad do not win—not finally,No matter how loud they are.
We simply would not be hereIf that were so.
You are made, fundamentally, from the good.With this knowledge, you never march alone.
You are the breaking news of the century.You are the good who has come forward
Through it all, even if so many daysFeel otherwise. But think:
When you as a child learned to speak,It’s not that you didn’t know words—
It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many,And it’s hard to choose the words that will be your own.
From those centuries we human beings bring with usThe simple solutions and songs,
The river bridges and star charts and song harmoniesAll in service to a simple idea:
That we can make a house called tomorrow.What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day,
Is ourselves. And that’s all we needTo start. That’s everything we require to keep going.
Look back only for as long as you must,Then go forward into the history you will make.
Be good, then better. Write books. Cure disease.Make us proud. Make yourself proud.
And those who came before you? When you hear thunder,Hear it as their applause
― remy bean, Wednesday, 13 February 2019 23:31 (five years ago) link
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D3YMsJDW0AAQdwz.jpg:large
― Lil' Brexit (Tracer Hand), Wednesday, 15 May 2019 23:42 (four years ago) link
came across a xerox of frank o’hara’s “personism: a manifesto” going through some old papers.
i love this man. he is so very otm
― budo jeru, Thursday, 26 March 2020 00:52 (four years ago) link
Married woman laughing Is not laughingIs crying for days
― calstars, Tuesday, 6 July 2021 00:09 (two years ago) link
Gahhhh
― calstars, Tuesday, 6 July 2021 00:15 (two years ago) link