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PWoF 2016 - Topic 02 - Sept. 23
Instructions:
You should attempt to write a poem inspired by this topic -- not a derivative, literal
interpretation of the topic. Create a poem that reflects your own true self.
--> Since the officious rules of PWoF 2016 stipulate that you can submit more than
one poem; may I suggest, if the fit strikes you, that you include, after your major work,
a second poem consisting of a bit of transient doggerel, a limerick, or a trenchant
end-rhyming nonsense poem that somehow reflects the intention of this topic.
(And for anyone who's a bit uncertain about starting out here: Ignore my bullshite and
just string some words together (that's what everybody else is doing  ).
Topic 2:
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
just mercedes
Unregistered
she didn’t survive the operation
each time his scalpel
opens skin
and shows the mystery
he becomes God
surgeon, also lover
like a poet
he performs work
on himself as well
he’s cut so many pieces
they don’t fit together at all
darkness pushes softly against light
ready to plug any hole
he will lose this one
write a poem, maybe
close his eyes
when he makes love
to his wife tonight
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(09-23-2016, 04:46 PM)just mercedes Wrote: she didn’t survive the operation
... You're such a damn hotdog! (Maybe that could explain your success with the last one?)
I was jealous when you wrote the Topic 1 poem in 2 hours and 23 minutes, but this one only took you 47 minutes!
Now if they were crappy poems it wouldn't bother me that much... but nooo.
Each level in this one is sublime.
These lines:
"darkness pushes softly against light
ready to plug any hole"
blew me away.
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
just mercedes
Unregistered
Thank you. It's always tense, and I never know if I'm going to come out of the alley alive. I guess I respond to being pushed. Now I can relax, and enjoy the other poems.
I had his surgeon with an erection, but I knocked that on the head with a teaspoon.
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Code Processing A Pig
In the beginning,
holding hands,
heaven and earth—
Let there be separation.
Let there be light.
Let there be an apple,
and let scrumping be Original Sin.
Back to the womb,
the word.
Back to the word,
the womb.
Back to the sea
where the ghosts of sailors live.
Back to the wood,
the worm.
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(09-23-2016, 05:13 PM)just mercedes Wrote: Thank you. It's always tense, and I never know if I'm going to come out of the alley alive. I guess I respond to being pushed. Now I can relax, and enjoy the other poems. "Relax"... now there's a good incentive. I think there's a bit of "creative constraint"
going on in NaPM and now PWoF. Psychological studies of creativity always come up with people being
the most creative when they have just the right amount of constraint. Too much constraint and you
can't be creative, but too little and you get lost, like staring at a blank page forever. Here we have
two constraints: Time and topic. (Of course, with you, you've got the unfair advantage of years of
practice and whatever that magical thing in your head is.)
(09-23-2016, 05:13 PM)just mercedes Wrote: I had his surgeon with an erection, but I knocked that on the head with a teaspoon. All, that old nurses trick.
I half expect billy to make some billy-like comment on these lines:
"surgeon, also lover
like a poet
he performs work
on himself as well"
(09-23-2016, 06:46 PM)shemthepenman Wrote: Code Processing A Pig I love this title: "Code Processing A Pig"; and I'm a sucker for biblical references.
And how much easier our lives would be, at least in dealing with certain religious people,
if it WAS scrumping that was the original sin. In the Bible the tree of knowledge bears
sweet fruit, and the tree of life bears bitter. When I first read that I thought "ha, gotcha";
but no... freedom of thought is some abomination or other, so… as always, we're supposed to suffer.
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
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old testament god
you're so beautiful
my love
i can't believe
i'm not lonely
like i was for so long
i'm glowing
burning
ecstatic
i love you
you'd be right
to say it back
i made you
no one else will ever love you
you're nothing without me
say it now
on your knees
then fuck you bitch
go to hell
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(09-23-2016, 04:46 PM)just mercedes Wrote: she didn’t survive the operation
Pretty fantastic. And, you nailed the subject. My brother is a surgeon - He's expressed some similar feelings. Well done.
Scrumping is a great word. Your second stanza has a wonderful rhythmic quality. I reread it several times. Good stuff.
(09-23-2016, 06:46 PM)shemthepenman Wrote: Code Processing A Pig
(09-24-2016, 02:17 AM)lizziep Wrote: old testament god
Wow lizzie. That sure took an unexpected turn. I have often wondered about that interconnection with God.
Redemption
When tempestuous iron clouds
roil and boil,
and riffling waves are tossed up
to breakers,
when thunder barks loudly across the
sea of discontent,
as lightning, his awful brother,
slaps sharply down,
my hand at the tiller slips,
while the rudder wags where it wills,
and all seems squid ink and tentacles.
There, in salty turbulence,
overwhelmed by icy sprays of terror,
I reconcile myself to you,
and offer this shoddy, ragged heart
that you yet deem green with hope,
and lively as the skies. And there
on sodden, sour teak planks,
I take your open fingers and
trembling, thank the terrible storm.
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it was fun at first, shaping the clay
then watching it trip on the ground
but sometimes they cry
they look up and ask why
and I don't know what I should say
that I was just playing around?
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara
just mercedes
Unregistered
Shem - I really like the 'back to the ...' repeats in your poem.
Ray - I started writing late, just 10 years ago. I think that's why I write so much now; a feeling that I need to catch up. Other writers my age have been working for a lot longer.
lizzie - great subversion of topic in your poem, was not expecting that!
C - Very Biblical-feeling scene, last two lines of the first stanza my favourite. I giggled at 'till' though - I think you meant 'tiller'
Q - You got right in to the mind of a Creator. I like the almost sheepish feeling here.
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Why Won't The Intermittent Scream Belong To Her?
I'm the difference
ain't we all just a little bit like that
inside this and outside something else
care until we don't anymore
couldn't if we tried
and she will never be Buffy
or a Swordsman II kung fu junky
it all got jumbled up inside her head
she couldn't remember if she might have loved me
at one time or another
or if
—he was always a drunk stealing smokes off me
I lean over to kiss her
she pulls away
and I cry a little bit inside
but she doesn't see and I'm not telling
I pick the rubbish off the floor and light it up
with me inside myself again
but slightly out the box I was in before I met her
I can only remember seeing her for a second
and what has happened since has happened
fourths and fifths
nothing can change that
nothing died
and what really goes on in here can only be pointed at
and nothing lived there either
so I try pushing some difference on Jumpy-Jack-Self-Murderer
and his nameless friend
and tell them we're the ones that remember
and Clair just forgot
it took a few shocks to remind her
but I don't believe a word
'cos the ground is just space filled up
and I'm lost in the disappointingly lukewarm cell
at Gravesend Police Station looking for some spark of God
in the profane etchings on the iron door
with two white pills and two yellow pills for company.
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(09-24-2016, 04:23 AM)just mercedes Wrote: C - Very Biblical-feeling scene, last two lines of the first stanza my favourite. I giggled at 'till' though - I think you meant 'tiller'
Oops and shit. Too much in a hurry. Thanks! Changed it
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(09-23-2016, 09:26 PM)rayheinrich Wrote: (09-23-2016, 06:46 PM)shemthepenman Wrote: Code Processing A Pig
I love this title: "Code Processing A Pig"; and I'm a sucker for biblical references.
And how much easier our lives would be, at least in dealing with certain religious people,
if it WAS scrumping that was the original sin. In the Bible the tree of knowledge bears
sweet fruit, and the tree of life bears bitter. When I first read that I thought "ha, gotcha";
but no... freedom of thought is some abomination or other, so… as always, we're supposed to suffer.
i like the title, as well. to be honest, i think it deserves a better poem... but, well, this is what it got, so. and as for biblical references, i wrote so many biblically inclined poems when i was a younger fellow, i feel like i can write them spinning on my cock.
(09-24-2016, 02:36 AM)cvanshelton Wrote: Scrumping is a great word. Your second stanza has a wonderful rhythmic quality. I reread it several times. Good stuff.
Code Processing A Pig
Thanks. and thanks for sharing. yours is my favourite. i can say that, right?
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![[Image: angels-small.jpg]](http://wordbiscuit.com/im13/angels-small.jpg)
< I'm sorry Jesus killed your kid >
But what did you expect?
And you said: "God works in mysterious ways".
And I think
that if by mysterious you mean fucking random, then yeah.
"Jesus called him home."
Yes, I guess he did.
"It's a miracle the others survived."
Or maybe it was the firemen who saved them?
"There must be a reason those people on the airplane died."
Yeah, they ran into the ground at 500 mph.
From what I can see,
your God is either an asshole
or he just doesn't care.
Not that it matters what I think;
I'm certainly not going to tell you.
You seem to get some comfort from it,
and I sure as fuck don't have anything better to offer.
You're happier person than me,
you're a better person than me.
If I could convince you that you were wrong,
that I was the one who knew what was going on;
maybe I could turn you into an asshole like me.
I've never figured out anything better.
I look around...
and it's always the same fucking shit.
I wish I was stupid enough
to believe what you do.
And yeah,
I'm sorry Jesus killed your kid.
a brightly colored fungus that grows in bark inclusions
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(09-24-2016, 04:23 AM)just mercedes Wrote: Shem - I really like the 'back to the ...' repeats in your poem.
thanks. unfortunately, that final stanza sounds like it comes from a better poem than the first. i think i might end up taking that part and making it it's own poem and jettison the first stanza.
as for yours, very good as usual. particularly like these lines:
"darkness pushes softly against light
ready to plug any hole"
deliciously deleuzian*
*yeah, i know i bang on about that fellow all the time, but what can you do, the boy was a genius.
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The God Placebo
Edit
I'll be him, you want a sign?
it's fine I do it all the time,
the rich ones get cured
the sick ones ignored.
I just need the long number, a cross your card
don't worry were dot com and prayin is hard
You'll see me when you look up in church
or look me up, just do a search,
I can spit you a sermon, drop in some rhymes
dishing out morals with my breath of red wine.
I'll piss biblical rivers to fill every font
hand me your children I'm at the front.
I've registered my trade mark 'G'
to take 10%, hell more if you believe,
this position is hard, I lead and you follow
with a finger inside my dirty dog collar.
I do love a choir, boy I speak unto thee.
Christian be a christian
and bend over my knee.
Ill be him, you want a sign?
it's fine I do it all the time,
the good ones will get cured
and the sick ones dicks will fall off.
You'll see me when you look up in church
or look me up, just do a search.
I'll piss biblical rivers to fill every font
hand me your children I'm at the front.
I've registered my trade mark 'G'
to take 10%, hell more if you believe,
this position is hard, I lead and you follow
with a finger inside my dirty dog collar.
I do love a choir, boy I speak unto thee.
Christian be a christian
and bend over my knee.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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You Go, Karl
So it bothers you
does it, Karl,
that One Who’s only spirit
living invisibly in old, opaque
writings (so far as you can see)
is their comfort
lulls them peaceably to sleep
provides remunerative
opportunities to some
supplying what the rest
regularly need
including a way to analyze
My created world?
“Opiate of the people,” am I?
Well, fine, then, Karl.
You be their crack.
 Non-practicing atheist
just mercedes
Unregistered
'You be their crack' - what a classic put-down from God! Love it.
(09-24-2016, 05:59 AM)Keith Wrote: The God Placebo
Ill be him, you want a sign?
it's fine I do it all the time,
the good ones will get cured
and the sick ones dicks will fall off.
You'll see me when you look up in church
or look me up, just do a search.
I'll piss biblical rivers to fill every font
hand me your children I'm at the front.
I've registered my trade mark 'G'
to take 10%, hell more if you believe,
this position is hard, I lead and you follow
with a finger inside my dirty dog collar.
I do love a choir, boy I speak unto thee.
Christian be a christian
and bend over my knee.
 
Ray - Yes. Yes, that's it. 'I wish I was stupid enough / to believe what you do ...' Of course it's easier to be stupid, and comforted. Some people just can't accept crap, and keep looking for something more. Of course it's futile, this search, but on the other hand it's the only worthwhile occupation.
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He has needs, like I do*
God is a stranger
who touches you in the night
while you're on your knees.
* Tool - Opiate
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Did Shem just write two poems in one day? 
I'm such a slacker 
(09-24-2016, 05:59 AM)Keith Wrote: The God Placebo
You are so fricking talented it's ridiculous.
(09-24-2016, 04:08 AM)Quixilated Wrote: it was fun at first, shaping the clay
then watching it trip on the ground
but sometimes they cry
they look up and ask why
and I don't know what I should say
that I was just playing around?
I love how your personality shines through in your work. 
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