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#101
11-26-2006, 03:03 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
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[ QUOTE ] [ QUOTE ] GODDAMN ACE OF SPADES RIGHT THERE AS BIG AS TEXAS MAN [censored] OOT [/ QUOTE ] I don't get the last line, what does OOT have to do with the A of Spades? [/ QUOTE ] Everything [/ QUOTE ] OK I'm lost, PLZ explain. 
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#102
11-26-2006, 03:04 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
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At a mall in Bangkok, Spotted Swedish beauties. Though I didn't know them, Vowed to touch their booties. On the elevator, Just before I buttons pressed, I ran my arm along The stoned one’s supple breast. When the elevator opened, I let someone disembark And from my new position Cupped the other’s bottom’s arc. My floor is coming soon And I haven’t had my fill. I’m done playing games. Time to go in for the kill. I drop to me knees, Run my arm up their thighs! Right thumb gets lost But left thumb strikes the prize! Elevator opens, I roll out ninja-spry And hear the tall girls screaming As I go to find Pad Thai. [/ QUOTE ] sick
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#103
11-26-2006, 03:09 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
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Not bad. I took the liberty of making a few light edits. I think you'll agree it scans better. enormous terrifying indifferent? /mc [/ QUOTE ] It's not as musical now, but it was working for me until the last three lines. I can't get with the three adjectives in a row, maybe just two?
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#104
11-26-2006, 03:10 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
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Not bad. I took the liberty of making a few light edits. I think you'll agree it scans better. SIREN SONG When they come to remove you from your house with a crane they will find crushed beneath the weight of your massive ulcerating carcass a couch. And beneath that couch a folded square of paper containing this poem. The emergency workers will stand in a loose circle poking at it with the tongs of life until one especially bold paramedic (the new one, still careless, curiousity not yet burned away by retarded grease fires half-eaten cats and low limit busto shotgun banquets) unfolds it with a nervous frown. And he will read about my hands and their fascinating hobbies (what with the hiking and the delving) and their desire to wander around your body (so adorably chubby although now in retrospect perhaps even then on the cusp of hideously obese) like a hash-dimmed college junior watching a blurry Europe through the perforations of a summer rail pass. I hope he doesn't respond the way you did with mild confusion and a puzzled look of incomprehension and pity. Maybe instead he will wonder standing in the flashing red lights beneath the whale of Damocles, How is it that a woman's body can be so much like a planet enormous terrifying indifferent? /mc [/ QUOTE ] ts eliot?
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#105
11-26-2006, 03:12 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
[ QUOTE ]
Not bad. I took the liberty of making a few light edits. I think you'll agree it scans better. SIREN SONG When they come to remove you from your house with a crane they will find crushed beneath the weight of your massive ulcerating carcass a couch. And beneath that couch a folded square of paper containing this poem. The emergency workers will stand in a loose circle poking at it with the tongs of life until one especially bold paramedic (the new one, still careless, curiousity not yet burned away by retarded grease fires half-eaten cats and low limit busto shotgun banquets) unfolds it with a nervous frown. And he will read about my hands and their fascinating hobbies (what with the hiking and the delving) and their desire to wander around your body (so adorably chubby although now in retrospect perhaps even then on the cusp of hideously obese) like a hash-dimmed college junior watching a blurry Europe through the perforations of a summer rail pass. I hope he doesn't respond the way you did with mild confusion and a puzzled look of incomprehension and pity. Maybe instead he will wonder standing in the flashing red lights beneath the whale of Damocles, How is it that a woman's body can be so much like a planet enormous terrifying indifferent? /mc [/ QUOTE ] GOOD GOD THE MOTHER [censored] LAUREATE
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#106
11-26-2006, 03:14 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ] Not bad. I took the liberty of making a few light edits. I think you'll agree it scans better. SIREN SONG When they come to remove you from your house with a crane they will find crushed beneath the weight of your massive ulcerating carcass a couch. And beneath that couch a folded square of paper containing this poem. The emergency workers will stand in a loose circle poking at it with the tongs of life until one especially bold paramedic (the new one, still careless, curiousity not yet burned away by retarded grease fires half-eaten cats and low limit busto shotgun banquets) unfolds it with a nervous frown. And he will read about my hands and their fascinating hobbies (what with the hiking and the delving) and their desire to wander around your body (so adorably chubby although now in retrospect perhaps even then on the cusp of hideously obese) like a hash-dimmed college junior watching a blurry Europe through the perforations of a summer rail pass. I hope he doesn't respond the way you did with mild confusion and a puzzled look of incomprehension and pity. Maybe instead he will wonder standing in the flashing red lights beneath the whale of Damocles, How is it that a woman's body can be so much like a planet enormous terrifying indifferent? /mc [/ QUOTE ] ts eliot? [/ QUOTE ] Nah, it ends too happily for T.S. Eliot
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#108
11-26-2006, 04:35 AM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
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Maybe instead he will wonder standing in the flashing red lights beneath the whale of Damocles, How is it that a woman's body can be so much like a planet enormous terrifying indifferent? [/ QUOTE ] Gold jerry, gold!
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#110
11-26-2006, 08:04 PM
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Re: BBV and Poetry
[ QUOTE ]
Not bad. I took the liberty of making a few light edits. I think you'll agree it scans better. SIREN SONG When they come to remove you from your house with a crane they will find crushed beneath the weight of your massive ulcerating carcass a couch. And beneath that couch a folded square of paper containing this poem. The emergency workers will stand in a loose circle poking at it with the tongs of life until one especially bold paramedic (the new one, still careless, curiousity not yet burned away by retarded grease fires half-eaten cats and low limit busto shotgun banquets) unfolds it with a nervous frown. And he will read about my hands and their fascinating hobbies (what with the hiking and the delving) and their desire to wander around your body (so adorably chubby although now in retrospect perhaps even then on the cusp of hideously obese) like a hash-dimmed college junior watching a blurry Europe through the perforations of a summer rail pass. I hope he doesn't respond the way you did with mild confusion and a puzzled look of incomprehension and pity. Maybe instead he will wonder standing in the flashing red lights beneath the whale of Damocles, How is it that a woman's body can be so much like a planet enormous terrifying indifferent? /mc [/ QUOTE ] Utterly magnificant.
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