Closely-orbiting O'Keefe satellite Lee B recently recommended I read a Keats poem about fall, so I did and then I decided to write a poem. I'm hoping it will help me exorcise out of my brain some words and stuff that I have trouble not thinking about. Enjoy.
The poem:
Negative zone daemonic hellscape riven with darkly pupating fist-smasher insectoid ravening biscuit-whifflers, bustling with eleven elven men stabbing your soul drinking the lemon-squinted drubble drink pouring out of your eyes, landing on a pad of green green grasses, waving in the windy wind while your white wallephant wails for whiskered wandering witch warrens, teeming with troubled toe tasters. Sudden shock, bursting your brain, washing your spectral dream place with acidic slime molds, seeping into every nook and cracky cranny, fusing your space holes free of webbed molecule breathing hostile bandit crafters, caustic sportsmen hammering away at the dogs of war, whipping away at the horses of sin, thrashing away at the donkeys of disdain, erasing the last remnants of spectral final tornado pulsars, turbid washboard eclipse spaniard potion doctor fraught pastor last distracting trash blaster stratus flashes burning your iris, papyrus inscribed with the diets of pirates.
The poem:
Negative zone daemonic hellscape riven with darkly pupating fist-smasher insectoid ravening biscuit-whifflers, bustling with eleven elven men stabbing your soul drinking the lemon-squinted drubble drink pouring out of your eyes, landing on a pad of green green grasses, waving in the windy wind while your white wallephant wails for whiskered wandering witch warrens, teeming with troubled toe tasters. Sudden shock, bursting your brain, washing your spectral dream place with acidic slime molds, seeping into every nook and cracky cranny, fusing your space holes free of webbed molecule breathing hostile bandit crafters, caustic sportsmen hammering away at the dogs of war, whipping away at the horses of sin, thrashing away at the donkeys of disdain, erasing the last remnants of spectral final tornado pulsars, turbid washboard eclipse spaniard potion doctor fraught pastor last distracting trash blaster stratus flashes burning your iris, papyrus inscribed with the diets of pirates.
From "last distracting trash blaster" to "diets of pirates" I can feel some MC vibes creep in. Time to write some Fat Raps, Terber.
ReplyDeleteYes, actually the reason I didn't originally publish this is because a) it makes me seem like an insane person and b) I liked the last two lines so much as a rap that I thought I might just start there and write a rap tinged by my apocalyptic visions.
ReplyDeletei like rap rhyme schemes like
ReplyDeleteA A B
B C C
Good poem, pwommy.
ReplyDeleteNOT.
No, actually its good. Its like other poems like it except less generic. Good use of spectral twice. The phrase "thrashing away at the donkeys of disdain" is the one I'd particularly like to point out.
hope that helps,
cog
Again,
ReplyDelete"caustic sportsmen hammering away at the dogs of war, whipping away at the horses of sin, thrashing away at the donkeys of disdain":
scary stuff, Mot.