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The time has come
the walrus said to talk of many things
of Deutschland, milieu's, pastiche?,
neoclassicism, and other joys Hitler brings
truth be known, I've had enough, I'm sitting on the
brink
be a dear, do my essay and bring me a stiff drink
the time has come mira said to indulge in poetic verse
this work is killing me bit by bit, quite soon ill need
a hearse
perhaps katie can offer me substance to inflict grievous
bodily harm
masochistic tendencies i have developed, 'tis as if i
were in 'nam
the time has come, we all now know to end a poem i
cannot save
were plath to hear this structural and linguistic
abomination, she would roll in her grave
perhaps a reference to tulips and bees may keep her
quiet for a while
but either way this poem severely lacks flow or style
you may be thinking "mira, another verse?", have you not
already dug yourself a hole
poo poo to you i will respond this poem comes from my
soul
a tortured soul it is at that, and a twisted mind too
boot
but still the point you make is moot.
POETRY ATTEMPT NO.1
Do acrostic poems count in our poetry
duel? (even crap ones?). This is a beautiful story of one man's search for
meaning an irrational world:
Masachistic
petty bourgeois
Igloo
trader from the land of the
Rhine
river region's Russian tributary
And
the outer reaches of Andulussia.
All
this time moonlighting as a merchant of
Dangerous
and delicious animals unbeknownst to
Leiutenant
Klause von Kenaidlach who moonlights by the
moonlight.
Everything
in this life on the road is grand, there are
Rides
on the ferries wheel when its in town
-aye
here's the rub-
Goats
of the region are entirely
Inedible!
What a cruel blow fate hath dealt.
Loverly
constellations and crackling fires are
lackluster and
Lonely
without goats the way mama used to make (to say
nothing of their company!)
If
only a hefty peasant woman could fill this void
Erstwhile
providing him with a
Son
whose name could begin with "P" allowing future
acrostic poems to incorporate the word
PASTICHE(?)
as is the goal of all acrostic poets, lyricists
and urban wordsmiths, second only to achieving
inner peace and our tale goes on (and would go
on more if only you're parents had the sense to
give you a middle name, dear reader)...........
Monday, 10 May 2004
LIZZY (?)
an
acrostic poem you did me write
but as a non-poem it did me fright (en)
acrostic brilliance comes naturally to us all
except perhaps a s on whom asaninity did befall
enough criticism now of your acrostic anathema
you my dear allison are a literary enig-athe-ma
granted i invent a word here and there
but acrostic verse could you please me spare
onto more topical matters now
my hygienist bares remarkable resemblance to an
anglofied cow
a failure in life, in dentistry, and more
'lizzy', i ask, is alive, whyfore?
its the oral hygienists of this dear sweet
lonely planet
whose futility of existence call for despairing
sonnets
to this lady of nothingness and torment i say
die and let live and of my oral hygiene, come
what may
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POETRY ATTEMPT NO.2
Monday, 10
May 2004
Since you are the purveyor of
counter culture, among other
things
Maybe i shouldn't sigh "why the
fuck is mira calling me again",
every time the phone rings.
Instead ill pay attention and
now its seems rhyming couplets
are in with a jolt
(then again, in your world so is
boggle, chaplin and beethoven)
so ill take this with a grain of
salt.
Perhaps poetry reading of the
beatnik kind is apt
I just need a few weeks for my
nose to stale smoke adapt
How would i look with
dreadlocks? your rhymes on teeth
would be centre stage
(well, in fact any rhymes on
decay are relevant at your age)
If you think its stupid then to
that heres what i say
shut up mira! If not now then
when else can i wear a a beret?
Ill bring the bongos, you make
the invites list
Dont invite anyone beginning
with the letters x or z- you get
the gist
lets get this show on the road,
as quick as we're able,
Now all thats needed is a break
in Fairlie and Dora's timetable.
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POETRY ATTEMPT NO.3
Mon, 10 May 2004
Mira, you think your rhymes
are supreme, like Hitler after the putsch
(1933)
but you
wouldnt know neoclassicism if it bit you on
the tush!
Is this a
rhyming war, like in 8 mile?
if so i
think so ill beat you and then smile
perhaps you
should switch to the more commercial medium
of rap,
then again i
dont know who else would be willing to
listen to your crap
think about
it mira, dora didnt even clap!
granted, i
throw in a rhyming triplet here and there
but you took
up all the good topics (plath, dentistry
and 1933-45) so this is entirely fair
now maybe we
could get off the topic of pastiches,
weve been
just slotting it in to any old niches
and it dosnt
even make sense!
its a french
word you seem to use out of pretense
on to more
pressing matters, "lizzy is alive whyfore"
,the questions had me vexed,
If i had a 3
phone (?) id send
you a cheap text!
Monday, 10 May 2004 10:21:02 AM
hitler, goebbels, himmler, the crew
mosied on down to berlin to stage a
coup
and what a party the threesome threw
all germany was invited but not a
single jew
a poem, you might say, that in
begins in poor taste
but hitler's germany was one helluva
place
kitsch, neoclassical greaco-roman
pastiche was the style at the time
and a chic onion on ones belt was a
never a crime
adolf and joseph, what fun they had
together
marching around wherever whenever
an artist young adolf thought wished
to be
the vienna school of fine art
thought differently
so from art to genocide hitler moved
with good reason
...treason
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POETRY ATTEMPT NO.4
Tuesday, 11
May 2004
when i read your poem i laughed
so much water nearly came out my
nose!(i was drinking...)
hmmm...perhaps familiar tales of
my barbarity are better reserved
for prose,
You'd better brush up on your
literary knowledge post haste-
though, unlike some, there's
nothing i like more than seeing
your mind waste
who are your poetry idols mira?
Plath, Ezra Pound or mother
goose?
the one who touches my soul the
most is Dr. Suess
what a shame the ol' chap died
eating green eggs n' ham
otherwise we could get him and
the Lorax over for a jam.
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Wednesday,
26 May 2004
The
Age of Short Attention Spans:
Fickleness and the Quest for
Entertainment in 21st Century
Armadale
To keep up with Myra (the
cryra) was incredibly hard
Each week she'd be trying to
be avant-garde
It reminds me of a battle of
shock and of awe
But just like pre-emptive
strikes, of that the
public soon does bore
Is this what the age of
modernisms has wrought?
Pretty soon her shock value
would be = naught.
What to do when within a few
short months myra has
everything already
done,
No longer are stencils or
poetry or charlie chaplain any
fun.
The future of this poor girl
is easy to foresee
She'll end up a hermit living
in a tree
This is what happens when
phases run dry
You move into an old elm to
help the weeks pass by
But in a tree there is nothing
to do, you start to crack (and
start to do crack)
You try to call allison and
ask for your life back!
But she cant help you and ill
tell you why-
Your 3 phone's reception wont
be working up that high.
Wednesday, 26 May 2004
RE: Fickle Pickle
allow me to begin with the
matter of three
say what you will but the last
50 calls i made were free
as for fickleness say no more
at least, if only momentarily
i can provide shock and awe
with stencils, degenerate and
indigenous art im done
allow me to quote goebbels who
once said: "when i hear the
word culture, i reach for my
gun"
art will take you only so far
you will get a lot further if
you take a car
but perhaps i remain loyal to
one thing:
of fickleness, if nothing
else, i will remain king
so i stand proud in my fickle
ways
and so i will til the end of
my days
i fear for your faithful,
attentive soul
with the times, allison, we
must continue to roll
when the plebs see the
subversive genius of stencils
and paint
to poetry we shall turn, for
intelligentsia we are but
fools we aint
like lambs to the slaughter we
will not go
we are the ebb, to their
proverbial flow
i feel i have successfully
cleared up some misconceptions
of the opposition
to fickleness i am loyal: what
think you of that proposition?
please feel free to rebutt, i
will be here all day
but now i must run, for there
is boggle to play
finally dear allison, my
hermit days are drawing near
and when i find my big old
elm, it is you who will get
bored with no passing fads, i
fear
and while im up there do me a
favour young lamb
dont bring me green eggs and
am: I DO NOT LIKE THEM SAM I
AM.
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End Of Time
Thursday, 27 May 2004
Lincoln,
Lincoln Iv'e
been thinkin'
whats the
point if the
worlds a
sinkin'
(?)
why bother to
spin a web of
lies
when the tidal
wave's gonna
crush us like
proverbial
flies
As we speak im
probably
failing J Civs
But at a time
like this who
really
gives...
MAY IN REVIEW
Sunrise,
sunset, I have
only one thing
to say
where O where
is the month
of May?
Permit me, if
you will, to
make I short
summary of the
month that
was,
its a
whimsical
journey, just
because
Presently ive
taken to
writing verse
before bed
what an ironic
last will and
testament this
will make if i
wake up dead!
On the 5th I
had a tute
presentation,
you spent time
in deep
procrastination
The Autumnal
leaves began
to fall,
a certain
someone i did
not call
We learnt that
the world's
temperature
had began to
decline,
you incurred
numerous
parking fines.
I missed a lot
of tutes
because they
were crap,
your phone
bill reached
its $100 cap
I went to
Oasis when the
cupboard was
bare,
you saw enough
movies to make
your eyes go
square.
I developed an
addiction to
warmed milk
soy
and learned
that boggle is
not a joy.
I called you
Picasso to my
Georges
Braque,
you wrote a
poem about
Lizzy removing
your plaque.
So here i
stand on the
cusp of June
with nothing
to show,
I only hope
that next
month will go
by much more
slow!
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