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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/26/2004 11:19:23 AM | Afternoon. Got busy and missed the morning post. Here it is, but it sucks:
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Prelude to Separation
I'm a big man, look what I can do
I can feed and dress myself too
I killed three big bags of chips
And a tub of warm Cool-Whip
My face is covered in zits
My big boy pants don't fit
Honey...WOW!
I'm a B-cup now!
======================
Oh, that was ugly. That's what I get for writing on only one cup of coffee. Yuk-poo.
Tomorrow, then. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:06:00 AM | Sunday morning haiku time. I'm going coffee-less right now, so bear with me:
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The coffee is brewed
It sits on the counter-top
Far away from me
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Yeah, I'm tired. Until Monday, then. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:39:39 AM | well you still made me smile and as you know i needed that today :)
but,
Goat buddy let me see,
I think maybe next time,
3 cups of strong coffee,
Would be the answer to a rhyme,
oh just keep it up - i like yer smell...i mean style....
be watch'n for ya tomorrow :) | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:44:55 AM | Neh, excuses...Goat let me serve you a coffee on sunday....I like to do it for you...
Who could prepare never a coffee as I prepare it ? With the same zeal... with the same care I do ?
After that you will Understand that to serve my coffe to you , is like to serve to you a great joyfull day full of goodness.........
Baci
Melina | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 7:50:08 PM | don't feed or give coffee to goat
he's recovering from poisoning
from that yellow fridge stuff
and the trip on the boat
when the seas turned rough
and he lost his breakfast and lunch
i think it was french toast
whatever it was, he ate a bunch
and threw up on a game show host
his stomach and colon not yet healed
he's eating mystery meat now
who knows what his upchuck may yield
so,don't feed or give coffee to the goat | |
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| Re: (GoatSmell) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/27/2004 8:38:53 PM | Bird! You inspired me, crime or not. (Special thanks to Melina and her coffee)
=====================
The Wreck of the SS GoatSmell
The goat is off his feed again
His gut is making noises
He’s retreated to his den
Consumed with all those poisons
He knew shouldn’t have eaten
That yellow tallow-like stuff
He knew he was beaten
He knew he had enough
But he kept on munching
His eyes dim and bleary
Kept right on lunching
Body becoming weary
A small stone of dense crap
Sank to the deep depths
Below his ample lap
Yellow stuff is his death
Coffee is a powerful laxative
With pie a la mode
He discovered purely by accident
As his colon began to explode
The universe opened a tiny crack
And light began to pour in
He almost threw out his back
On the throne of colonic sin
Purged of the foul evil
He emerged from the john
Feeling like a bo-weevil
The sick feeling was gone
Beware of the stuff in bird’s fridge
Be cautious of yellow chunks
It’ll throw you off a tidge
It will render you into junk
=====================
Am I back on my feet again? Maybe, maybe not.
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/28/2004 9:39:01 AM | Mornin' all. Forgive me if I break out of character for a moment here. Yesterday, I learned a friend of mine will be leaving for Winnipeg in a month or so. Last night, we took a walk and did some talking. One good night's sleep and some good strong coffee (Melina continues to inspire me), I created this just this morning:
===================
One Dark Night
O look up, look up and see
The universal music that is be
With old stars growling and singing
Ancient light continuously flinging
Across the cold vacuum of space
O, do look up and see
Come, stand here next to me
The city lights, hot phosphorescent
Hiding the divine incandescence
But you can still see it has grace
O, please look up and see
Where there were one, now are three
With one star falling, then another
Dropping like warrior brothers
Burning alive to save face
O, you must look up and see
Realize what you mean to me
Here we stand, frightened and small
Too tiny to feel universal awe
Understanding this is our place
Look up and see.
==================================
I'll be back to my old self tomorrow. When I was leaving for work this morning, I saw my half-naked neighbour mowing his lawn. Needless to say, that shoved me back into character pretty darned quick. I'll stick it here tomorrow.
Hi matahari! I'll bet you thought I didn't notice you before. Welcome to the jungle.
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/29/2004 7:34:01 AM | Mornin' all. Back to my old self. Like I said yesterday, this one was written right after divine inspiration struck me. Well, after divine inspiration and several cups of good ol' coffee. So, in all it's glory:
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Big Shirtless Joe
Big Shirtless Joe is mowing his lawn
Never mind it's 7 in the morning
Never mind it's not warm yet
Never mind most sane working people
Are asleep, resting for the day
Big, shirtless Joe wrestles his Craftsman mower
Like a flabby version of El Pinto Grande
Like an elephant struggling through a swamp
Like a middle aged woman at a white sale
Hunting for bargains, stepping on the innocent
Big Shirtless Joe never wears a shirt
Unless he's going to the buffet
Unless he's going to a wedding or a funeral
Unless he's going to take it off
And expose his sculptured-out-of-mashed-potatoes body.
Big Shirtless Joe plays to his audience of few
Like the old lady in the window across the street
Like the mail carrier who has seen too much already
Like the paperboy daily traumatized
And will no longer eat fast food
Big Shirtless Joe is like a fixture here
Never mind he's bringing down the property values
Never mind he's made women cry and children stop breathing
Never mind he mows that damned lawn
Three times a bloody day.
=========================
Who says all poems have to rhyme? Your English teacher? He's a knob. Tell him I said so.
Until tomorrow....
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 8:35:16 AM | Mornin'. Another day, another poem.
MasterBart...I'm your English prof? I'm all at once honoured and horrified to learn this. I am a knob, evermore. Feast your eyes upon this travesty, as an example:
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A Goat’s Breakfast
As I rise, the hunger grows
From the top of my head
To my goaty toes
Vittles, I must have!
And loudly I do complain
For something to fill the hole
And hide the pain
A 5-pound bag of oatmeal
A jar of old mustard
Three cake mixes
A box of powdered custard
Lugnuts and hockey pads
Last week’s newspapers
Slippers that were my Dad’s
Kleenex, Swiffer pads and toilet paper
Old toothpaste, a jar of capers
Pickled herring and lobster guts
A half can of salted nuts
Coffee completes the dance
I leave for work and forgot my pants.
=========================
I heard rumours that ee cummings suffered from horrible gas and lived alone. My sources may be inaccurate, MasterBart. A quatloo is a form of currency familiar to old-school Star Trek fans (Star Trek TOS - The Gamesters of Triskellion. Yes I do know the episode. I know I'm a dork, thanks.)
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 7:30:33 PM | | TY...just as I thought I'd figured out you meant "qualudes." Beautiful work here, your last one reminds me a tad of Shel Silverstein's style. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 10:19:01 PM | Shel Silberstein....oh yeah, I guess it is kinda like his stuff. Interesting style he has...forgot about him until you mentioned him just then. I was thinking of Theodore Dreisel when that previous poem was in my head.
Thanks for the compliment, though my poetry is pretty nasty stuff I thinks.
Well, since I'll be away from here for a few days, I'd getter get one in now. This one will be an act of improvisation:
======================
A four-day weekend lies ahead
Four days of beer with no head
Four days of sleeping late in bed
Four days -- no work, no dread
Hot weather and good times
Four days of secretly composing rhymes
Four days of fun with dimes
Four days -- tequila, no limes
Too much food and BBQ's galore
Four days of acting like a food-whore
Four days of being a crashing bore
Four days -- too much, no more
I'll have to rest up while working
After four days of constant shirking
After four days of constant irking
After four days -- posting, not lurking
=============================
Have a good weekend, peoples! See you Sunday!
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Zee
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Joined: 4/11/2004
Msg: 66 | |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/30/2004 11:29:08 PM | Any person who can find words to educate, entertain, amuse, and enlighten on a drop of a whim, gets my vote for poetic genius.
Z | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/4/2004 8:43:47 AM | Good morning all. What an interesting weekend. Once I sort it all out, I may even relate some of it to you in poetic form, but not today. I have zero imagination this morning...barely enough for a haiku, or maybe something more involved... I dunno. I haven't even though of what to write yet.
Thanks, Zee. Did I ever mention that you lend integrity to these forums? I didn't? Well, you do. Thank you for the kind words -- they inspire me to do better.
But not today. Sorry, it was an exhausting weekend.
What to write...what to write....
======================
Eggrolls for breakfast don't sit well
Especially when they've sat for days
In the fridge with healthy beer
And rotten lettuce with its liquid ways
One look at the travesty in that appliance
Makes me feel scared and fightened
Arm & Hammer can't save it, I realize
And my stomach just tightened
Today is a glorious Sunday though it is cold
Tomorrow the working week begins anew
Between now and then is a good soccer game
I won't have beer to watch, lest I spew.
========================
There aren't enough u's and g's in the word "ugly" for that one. Off to the races...laundry awaits. All my gonch smells like armits and my shirts smell like arse. Hm...another poem in there? Perhaps.
Tomorrow, then.
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/4/2004 9:34:04 AM | hi there,
it's a great poem... you definately have a real creative side to you ! lol...
would like to get to know you better ! i'm tammy / green eyed lady...
have you checked out my poetry on here... ? maybe you'll enjoy it too, huh ?
we should chat sometime...
ttys... ; ) | |
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xchuck
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Joined: 6/11/2004
Msg: 69 | |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/4/2004 9:44:12 AM | | hey goatsmell miss your work in here...glad to see you back...i think the lass above has a eye for the goat | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/4/2004 10:08:09 AM | Howdy all. Thanks for the kind words. I would have replied sooner, but I'm washing me undies and assorted bits n' pieces now. They need attention.
Hi Green Eyed Lady. I haven't publicly welcomed you yet, so welcome to the jungle. Watch out for the monkeys. I like your poetry, too. Nice feeling and depth to it. I PM'ed you on your other questions, but I'll have to warn you: The Goat is hard to capture. A tranquilizer dart usually does the trick, however.
And Chuck....ya missed me? Don't make me hug you again, man. It took a lot of tomato juice and scrubbing to get the smell off last time. Remember? I haven't checked in on your peotry threads yet...perhaps it's time for me to make a contribution?
Thanks, peoples. See you here tomorrow? Sure I will. I knows it. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/4/2004 1:04:00 PM | hey....
well... i'm not out to capture you, lol ...
i feel that chasing men, or playing hard to get... as well...
is just a waste of time and energy.
my poetry says it all...
i do not write in a general manner....
i write straight from my deepest thoughts and emotions,
that i feel in the present time.
lonely, tho i am....
i would rather discover that someone would be willing
to meet me sometime...
because although sharing my poetry and thoughts online
can be exciting and fun...
it does not and will not ever fullfill or replace the reality
of meeting face to face.
the anticipation of a date....
the nervous laughter
the eye to eye contact...
the personal conversation.
to see if a spark might appear.
So no, dear GoatsSmell
I am not here to capture you,
unless it's capturing your heart,
and convincing you that
words typed upon a poetry forum
or a dating site, may be a start...
That it is never going to be quite enough...
For a passionate soul like me.
I have much love, affection to offer a man.
I have the silliest sense of humor, I am very honest
and caring.
Just tired of al these long lonely days & nights.
There just HAS TO BE MORE...
More than just typing words .
I am searching for love and companionship.
Someone I could treat like a rare gem.
And the hopes I'd be treated equally the same.
If only a chance would be given.
Tammy
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/4/2004 10:22:09 PM | Chasing and playing are wastes of time, to be sure.
I do not intend to be hard to get, I simply am.
We all look for companionship in our own way,
Though we don't need to look every day.
Instead of not wanting what I have,
I chose to embrace what I do possess.
Denying our our feelings isn't terribly healthy,
But wrestling and breathing through them is.
The opposite side of fear is pure, cautious courage;
The opposite side of grief is wholeness;
The opposite side of loneliness is contentment.
Typing here is not the end, nor is it a means to it;
It is simply something that is done.
These are not simple words passing between us
They are ideas, feelings, dreams
Hardly trivial, hardly mere symbols.
Aching for more impedes the learning process;
It shrouds the ideas, loses the translation.
Keep seeking and ye shall find eventually;
Make sure to take a day off and not be so hard on yourself.
That is most important.
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/5/2004 8:00:40 AM | Sorry, pardner. The Goat was thoroughly asleep by the time you wrote that. I'll check it out today in between other stuff. I don't have to pose nude for it, do I? I really want to pose nude somewhere....maybe someone will let me. I'm not allowed in the 7-11 for various reasons, mainly because of nudity.
Okay...here's another one. Fresh and startling like a mountan breeze. It's based on Salutation to the Dawn, a bit of Hindu scripture I've had on my wall for years:
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Salutation to the Work Week
Look well to this day
For it is work
The very sweat of work
In it's brief course lie all
The ventures and realities
Of the working week:
The bliss of paperwork
The glory of getting the first donut
The splendor of the coffee machine
For last weekend is just a dream
And tomorrow only Tuesday
But Monday well-worked makes
Every weekend a pleasant dream of
Happiness and every tomorrow
That much closer to the next.
========================
Until tomorrow.
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/6/2004 7:34:10 AM | Hello my jungle friends. This one is based on Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill". I usually have at least one song stuck in my head on the way to work -- today this is the one:
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Tuesday Morn
Rising up on Tuesday morn
I can hear the city move
Cars hurtling down the roads
Gas, gas, brake, brake and horn
So, I get on my bike again
For the roughly 40-minute run
This can be a health risk
I'll get there but don't know when
I don't even look at the scenery
Smothered by all the machinery
My heart was going boom, boom, boom
"Hey!" Someone yelled. "Get that shit
Off the road and take it home."
Take it home.
That was the first thing on my mind
When I started the journey east
I wanted to head on back
Out of the noisy belly of the beast
But the idea of no paycheque
Instilled a fear in me so deep
It propelled my little legs
A working wage I must reap
I knifed through all the stopped cars
Past all the closed and darkened bars
My heart was going boom, boom, boom
Damn, I thought I should've turned around
and headed back home
Yeah, back home.
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Until tomorrow. Stay tuned. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 7/6/2004 10:24:41 AM | the goat gave me a flea
it bit me on the knee
really hurts and stings
can't eat my chicken wings
god damn goat
god damn goat! | |
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