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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/17/2005 12:51:50 PM | | love the name pickles and goat ur definitely one of a kind along with the rest of the barn keep up the great work. thanks for the welcome too u all have a great night ill try to catch up on monday of the great readings. u guyys and ladies rock | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/17/2005 2:52:03 PM | Since this is the depository for bodily stuff I thought I would leave this here...posted elsewhere
Felt in the Dark
Waking up at three a.m.
Swearing you won't ever drink again
Don't turn the light on...know the way
Bounce off the walls anyway
Feel less pain in the dark
Stumble, fumble, don't wanna barf
God I gotta pee so bad
After all that beer I had
Find the loo sit down....Kerpluppppp
You left the *****ing toilet seat up
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/17/2005 2:57:41 PM | My ex loves chocolate covered nuts
Not the human kind...although who knows?
He would sit for hours on end
Scarfing bowlfuls
I think the ultimate revenge has started to percolate
Marinate
A salve to ease the hate
Goat I need you
And your funny, round marble like poo
Dipped in chocolate ..only the best
Then the ultimate taste test
Mind you...he's so full of sh*it
He probably wouldn't mind a bit
FEELING GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/17/2005 5:19:41 PM | Evening all....... Not much to leave here today, tuckered from packing….but I am
D o n e~
Goat- you did it again with your quiet Goaty moment....I bow to ya
And it’s Pickles in great form -- as always you make me chuckle... how’s the moving going?
G’Night all…
The movement of grass
Tickles your feet
Moist the wind
Touches of rain in your eyes
Your heart opens
To the song of meadow lark
Whispering a silent call
Ending in a melody of trees | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/17/2005 7:57:18 PM | Hey...another post n' run...sorry...
==========================
A Quickie
Thunder calls and the time is short
Lightning will strike and electrical things, it will court
Another crack and another boom
I will have to leave this room
Curl up in a bed so warm
Where I shall snore until the morn
In a land that once was so dry
With complaining farmers asking why
Now we have a crapload of rain
That falls on this city and the fertile plains
So the farmers finally got what they wanted
Now do they stand in the mud undaunted?
==============================
Hey, Pickles! Glad you liked the last one...you could say I was inspired that day.
Breathing...I bow to you and your blessed words. You are the better poet in my eyes.
The rest of ya...sorry, can't stay...storm's a-coming and I lost one PC to the ravages of lightning and I ain't going to lose this one.
With that, I bid you good night and I'll see you here tomorrow. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/17/2005 8:42:50 PM | Ta muchly love...
Did the Basement today...urgg really alien life forms
Wish I were but am not done...
Good move GF
Huggzz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/18/2005 4:22:57 PM | Hellloooo ……Where are all yee barn dwellers this fine Saturday?
Hey pickles…You sound busy, the things you find lurking in corners, eh? – Make sure you take time for a brewsky in that gazebo of yours --- hugzz
I thank you Goat, you are gracious with your words … ~ Namaste ~
A storm is brewing here…….You can smell the lightening as the wind blows
Leaves brittle and weak
An aged poplar
Sleeping in a field of buttercups
A quiet brook echoes
An old forgotten song
Whistles in the Grass
Branches bare
Yellowed by time
Tracing the slant of roots
Ground softens under your feet
Imagines of a child never known
A lone reflection in the creek
See you all for Sunday sermon….What does the Dear Lard have for us tomorrow??? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/18/2005 5:58:51 PM | breathing, I don't know what the Lard has tomorrow, either, but I hope he passes out some air fresheners this time before his parishioners pass out.
TOWARDS SUN
for Lorna L., a beautiful existentialist I used to know.
Lit within,
the round fire of morning
rises steep and alone
above us, the beach
banked sheets of light
spreading a whisper
over the porous carpet of foam.
A loose gallery of nudists
conjoin along the wet edge
as the loud repeated wash
cancels yells and leaves
hand gestures and silent laughs.
Too much light,
too much motion,
and I'm talking to you too much,
yet the sun amplifies
vibrations of our vision
so that shadows are tame
and quiet under folds of sea. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/18/2005 7:50:04 PM | Howdy....I are here. I sure wasted the day today and tonight's poem reflects it. Ah, well...
It's a post n' run night again. Here we go with the post:
=====================================
No Animals Were Harmed in the Making of This Poem
Ain’t got no poems
Ain’t got no rhymes
Ain’t had the motivation
Ain’t had the time
But if I took the moments
That compose the hours
There were infinite seconds
To create poetic power
Alas, the call to be lazy
Was strong as anything can be
I played computer games like crazy
On this here humble PC
What could be done? What could be said?
At least the Wehrmacht was contained
At a cost of only a few hundred dead
That was my entire day apart from a quick ride
To gather beer and food
Lest my energy would subside
So, I’m terribly sorry that I’m so late
More attention on this barn I should dote
Tonight’s poem ain’t that great
Be ready tomorrow for the Book of Goat
==============================
And here I run. See you tomorrow for the Sunday sermon. G'night, eh | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/18/2005 10:18:33 PM | Lookin' forward to it Goat!
Entity
Into a deep sleep,
A slumber of eternity,
In dreams it does creep,
Ending all serenity.
The dark shadows grow,
On your fear it will feed,
Destroying all logic you know,
Letting its evil seed.
Its power is your fear,
The taste of your chilled sweat,
Your sanity it does sear,
So you will never forget.
Your flesh is its playground,
In which it takes delight,
Perverseness so profound,
A violation of what is right.
No more is your home a haven,
No more are you to be free,
In your memory it is graven,
The haunting of this entity.
~Kobold~ | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/19/2005 9:21:44 AM | God I missed your words, welcome back stranger....
I love reading your writes, one of my favorites on here that is for sure....
Well I will be back later.maybe with a post or maybe just to read....
Take care all...
Miz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/19/2005 10:00:26 AM | Good morning all. I had to do some serious research for today's sermon from the Book of Goat...that, and I slept in. Yeah, yeah...spanketh mine ass...I done did wrong.
Good to see Kobold here again....morning, pardner.
Okay...please be seated. Do not spit into the collection plate when it's passed around. That's what the holy water bowl is for.
==================================
Psalm 624 – The Book of Goat
Be friends with thy dictionary
For it is a Good Book
Far better than that Horrid “O” magazine
But not as good as the Blessed Bathroom Reader
Large words promote Understanding and can comfortably couch
Nasty Insults into beautiful cryptic phrases
And will pave the path to Forgiveness
Or at least make that road really frigging funny
Thy Lard hast discovered a treasure trove of fine words
In such a Blessed book
Whose words were confirmed in His Holy Dictionary
(Well most of those words, at least)
No longer will Thy Lard refer to the idiots that drift through His life
As morons, yutzes and putzes
They will merely have suffered severe Anencephalotropia
When they wake up one day and realize their brains have atrophied
And simply can’t help the way they act
Thy Lard doth forgive the poor Dizzrds, Grobians and Coofs
For they could all be Pantanencephaliacs
Born without a brain in their heads, drooling nonsense
Trying to control others’ lives while barely containing their own bowels
They will be forgiven
Likewise the coughing, chain-smoking, ever-complaining
Frumpy Old Bat that works in the same office as Thy Lard
That Mackabroin will be forgiven
As will all odiferous Drouds that enter Thy Lard’s life
The noisy kids that play outside at all hours of the night
Well, no longer will Thy Lard holler at them from the Holy Deck
Because He knows they are ill-bred bantlings, Diggots and Lolabies
Poorly-raised by parents who were likely Rantipoles themselves
Bless thy Dictionary for it is useful as well as heavy
If the words don’t make thy laugh
The painful pummelling of twenty pounds of paper
Upon thy foe’s brow will
Amen
======================================
It's all done...get out there and celebrate the day. Do whatever...mow the lawn naked, dance to some 1930's jazz in your hip-waders or find an elevator and fart in it.
See you guys later, eh. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/19/2005 5:36:27 PM | Well bless thy Lard for his Sunday Sermon… This Gal stands in admiration of thee….
Good to see yas--- Kobold, Miz and Rory ….Hope the day is treating you all well…The sun is shining here…a break from all the rain, finally!!
Innocence
The crack of metal in a concrete park
Boys ache to be men
Skateboards
A test of courage
A dead zone of youth
She is spinning
Sinking to the depths
Blades
Leave Skid marks
Pain
Chained
Hands barely able to hold
Wheels of life
Unfold
Hungry for approval of his peers
Accepting of a challenge
Silent
Her tears
His manhood displayed
He is about to penetrate
Fear
They watch her chest
Rise and fall
Scarves adorn their heads
They left her near dead
Sirens ring loud
A game that left a mark
One Quiet Sunday in the park | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 11:01:15 AM | Sobering stuff, breathing, and well done.
Goat, where can I purchase the collected works of the Book of Goat? Much more exhilarating than the regular stuff from pulpit and pillbox, and much more useful, too.
Hi, Miz and Kobold, others, and lurkers !
MIDSUMMER SOMNOLENCE
The air along the reach of shore
is democratic,
blessing backward-capped punks,
lovers, and alone old men.
Waves are limp, lapping
inert sand and signing debris
with wet sun-glints.
Repeated a thousandfold... ten thousandfold...
all thoughts clotted
and transposed to a tiresome loop
a mad projectionist shows again...
and again... and again... until a young girl,
waterwashed, walks along saline circles,
singing above the low soft breaks
purling and splayed like chipped crystal
framing her golden skin with temporary anklets. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 11:41:46 AM | Untitled
Someone told me yesterday,
That they missed me,
And I do not know why.
Someone told me yesterday,
That they needed me,
I do not know why,
Who am I?
I am no one special.
Someone told me yesterday,
That I light up their day when it is cloudy!
I do not know why, but I am no one special.
Who am I? Why am I special to this person?
Why are these questions about me?
And than that someone came to me,
They said, you are my friend.
They said, you are my friend,
When I had no hope,
You were my hope when mine went dry.
They said, you are my friend,
When no one said hello to me,
You took the time to come to me and say hello.
They said, you are my friend,
When it mattered most and no one would listen,
You listened to me.
They said, you are my friend,
When life seemed not worth living,
You gave me a reason to live.
They said, you are my friend,
When I had no more smiles to give,
You smiled and gave me plenty.
They said, you are my friend,
When I lay ill and no one was by my side,
You came and grasped my weak hands,
Your compassion healed me.
They said to me, you are my only friend,
Not many who come my way I have liked,
Time they never took to know me,
But you took more than just time,
You seized the moment.
They said to me, truely, you are my only friend,
Remember that when thou doust fallen,
I will be there, I will be there for you.
In thine rescuing arms thou shall be,
In my sight, always you I shall see.
When your hope has grown dry,
Hope I shall reassure you in a blink of an eye.
Weary of you I shall never be,
For many a time thou hast rescued me.
Blessed be we are.
Blessed be forever be,
You are my friend.
Now I understand who I am,
I am their friend.
To the end. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 6:18:46 PM | Hello all. Another post n' run...feeling a little worn tonight.
Rory...the collected bits of the Book of Goat are absolutely free for the taking from this ol' barn. Who would want to buy them? I mean besides the wealthy, lost souls that buy those horrid self-help books? Hey..hmmm...
Well, anyhoo...here's tonight's largely uninspired poem:
==================================
A Small Wish
I wanted a beer in the worst way today
With that sun hurling itself against the office window
The too-warm water in the bottle
Was a poor substitute for that fizzy barley
Wobbly-pop, go-juice, softball lubricant
That was so needed to help an old goat
Plow through endless stacks of paper
I had the chance to stop at the cold-beer store
And didn’t
I guess the need for beer exists only
At my desk
=================================
Yep...it's warm and I'm lazy. See you guys tomorrow, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 7:30:56 PM | Hey all…
Rory --- Thank you...this mind is inspired by the talent in this ole’barn..
I think the “Book of Goat ~ A Collection of Psalms” could become a household name, better than Reader’s Digest…Filled with incredible wit.
Goat Me’Dear --- I thought of you as I sipped my brew…….
Summer rolls in ,,,The beach is filled with bikini's and beach volley ball….Hard to find quiet space on a day like today…..
~
Three girls on a blanket in the grass
A bag of refreshments a bit of lemon pate`
Their toes wiggle to touch the sun
Number one sits on her knees
Blond hair and straight faced
Her eyes locked on the page
She reads “One Touch”
A brilliant display of fashion
Number two sips Sobe’ Ice Tea
The Quintessential summer drink
She wonders what it means to be free
She savours the words
COSMOPOLITAN
She learns of the subtle tricks
To catch a man
Number three girl swallows Dasani
Knowing it is the movement of the hips
Those boys fancy
The Book of “O” speaks truth
One hundred and twenty eight
Is far too much weight
This is the culture of youth
If you primp and you preen
One day you might be his queen
Particles of life they glean
From the pages of a magazine
Words they scrutinize
Believing men are their prize
Desperately they climb
The pedestal
Is this the reality they see
Analyzing his butt
To understand
His personality
Capture a man to make him fit
The mold
Put your man in a cage
He’ll behave
I wonder as women
Are they given the right
To alter the course of a life
Simply because they are a wife
But they are imprisoned you see
This is the life they are told to envision
The trouble is-- They listen
This is the conversation I hear
As I sit silently sipping my beer | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 7:35:08 PM | Goat
When I wrote my last Sonnet
I had forgotten my sun bonnet
And the UVA and UVB
Had affected me
In a solar way
Fried tomato skin
Dehydration
The sonnet?
I've forgotten it 
Goat
When I wrote my last Ode
I was travelling a dusty road
Eyes clouded by the atmosphere
Winds were ahowling
Could not see or hear
Choking on the dust
But spouting prose
No one heard it
So no one knows
Of my GENIUS
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 7:44:22 PM | | Just breathing in the talent here....hi ya pickles.... :-) You do it so well! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/20/2005 7:51:53 PM | Can't find it....
CRAFT disease....
Can't Remember A Fuc*king Thing
hehehehehehehehe | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/21/2005 10:45:15 AM | lmao to cute pickles.....craft...gotta remember that one..
Hope everyone is well, been busy and this weather is driving me nuts so humid....but oh well, could be freezing my butt off, but then again now I got a man to keep me warm....bring on the cool weather please
take care all have a great day
Miz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/21/2005 12:54:11 PM | Hi, Miz, I'm happy fer ya.
Another wise poem from breathing.
Hey, Goat ! Hi, pickles and Kobold.
Well, another unexpected $950 bill from my dentist this morning who's currently putting his first four children through university with my help. They say laughter is the best medicine, ha,ha ! Dr Wu, one more "surprise" and you'll be needing a new set o' teeth. (OK, I feel slightly better, now).
EXPANDING ON SHOULDERS
I think we had mirrored smirks.
I don't know of mine
since I didn't have a mirror.
You were true to your word, and wore red.
Though I was born a Taurus,
I refrained from head-butting your heart.
Your hair-- waterfalls.
Waterfalls of rope--
thick, tossed, chestnut rope.
Another thing about your hair--
I can't remember seeing its end.
Shoulders? Past shoulders?
Speaking of shoulders,
I can't remember much of them, either.
One on each side, I suppose.
Yet this is sad--
why the forgetfulness, or inattention?
Trying to cram so much in an hour?
Aha ! My brain, like your computer that morning,
overcharged with information
trying to sort out the good from the unknown.
I could have ended the poem right there
with that mild profundity
but I feel like expanding.
Not expanding like a hot-air balloon, mind you,
nor like my midsection (or lower--
Egads ! what a faux-pas that would be on a coffee date).
Expanding, however, in a spirited sense--
(that is, it's 400 cents for the strongest spirits--
no ! no ! it's a cafe !)
This is quickly degenerating
from any sublimity
it could have achieved.
Listen to yourself, Rory.
You're arguing in your head
when at the beginning of the poem
you were being witty, addressing
a woman you had just met.
What will she think now?
I don't know. Ask her.
No, you ask her !
No, you !
Excuse us, Di.
We'll be
right back. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/21/2005 6:01:47 PM | ^^^^^^ you hot tamale you
EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHH senorita
Is he saying
Muchos gracias por todos
hehehe
Miz how are you???
In the middle of the worst move EVER
If I didn't drink I would have commited murder
Almost done
Now 6months of chaos
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