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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/10/2005 6:58:34 PM | Ah...she is still the best in this house. Thanks Breathing-dear...you are still amazing. And Miz, you hit a homer with the last one. Thanks, eh?
==========================
It’s a Living of Sorts, Continued
Trying to look busy can be an art form
Though subject to ridicule and scorn
Causing the artist to be most forlorn
One small table and a non-adjustable chair
It’s low to the floor, but it has some flair
More pages flipped – how’s she doing there?
A glance, a toss a perusal in the book
A ton of methodology not worth a second look
A castle is not a pawn, a king not a rook
Another error box pops up on the screen
I’m too far removed to see what it means
Perhaps the integration isn’t what it seems
I can see the manual pages fly – she wants to throw ‘em
I can see the frustrations – oh, how I know ‘em
Though I can appreciate the time I got to write this poem
=======================================
Well, that'll do it for me tonight. Be good to each other, eh? G'night. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/10/2005 8:15:23 PM | Today was a day that will live on in infamy
At least in my mind
Today was the day that I ceased to be
A legend at least in my mind
I can no longer be Queen of the road
Floor it when I want to be bold
No longer the "Little Old Lady"
They sang about
I am now quite pedestrian
Boring, almost suburbanite
Traded my Magnum with the "Hemi"
For a CRV and although I know many
Love that car and so do I
There is a little regret,as I say goodbye
No longer can I be the "granny" on the go
Pasedena got traded for Tokyo | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/11/2005 9:23:47 AM | here we go this is one of mu political poems
The Invisible Punch
Don't you notice me
from high atop your
privileged white pedestal
when I scream for recognition
with words that flow past you only
momentarily chilling your bones,
as you grow fat from inactivity
with your only exercise
the nodding of your head,
the shrugging of your shoulders,
the rolling of your eyes,
the displacement of your guilt.
Your winter lasts only a brief time
as you bask in the warmth
of white privilege
founded on stolen lands
and dreams once considered
deferred are now arguably denied,
and don't kid yourself
into believing that equality
exists in this country
because of a rise
of a "Hispanic" middle class
who have become
more white than brown.
Don't you dare think I don't notice
how you brush me away
like a bothersome fly
that you attempt to kill
with pesticides named
prop 187 and 209
without realizing
whites are insects
burrowing beneath my culture
to suck out my history
like you gobble up
Taco Bell burritos.
You ignore 150 years
of US colonization in the southwest
and imagine the US without
California, Texas, New Mexico,
Nevada, Arizona, Utah and Colorado,
with a sunbelt where
Hollywood is in Illinois,
with whites sunning along
the Mississippi River
while they listen to the
Beach Boys playing Bluegrass,
and fantasize about the Wild Mid-West
as they work in Wyoming Maquiadoras
and salute Old Glory with forty three stars.
I live a reality where
I was forced to changed my name
from Carlos to Charles,
speak with English Only,
cry with anglos
as John Wayne dies
defending the Alamo,
watch my children
stand in the corner
for speaking Spanish
on the playground,
see my role models
as men sleeping
against a cactus,
spitfire women desiring
the white knight,
chihuahuas beckoning
for white dollars,
Richard Rodriquez disowning
his family,
Linda Chavez denouncing
her culture.
I grow tired of your inability
to face my reality.
fearful of making mistakes,
you make no attempts at understanding
a privilege that allows
you to sleep at night and
forget about any dreams of
equality you might have.
You allow instead
for the mistakes
to be made on my part
and then talk behind
my back of all the ways
I have wronged you
or speak to our mujers in an elevator
as a stereotype where understanding
is always on a different floor
saying arriba, arriba without
even the decency to roll your rr's
as you appropriate my culture and
reduce my image to a gift shop souvenir
and then ask if it was something you said
as my eyes pierce your privilege
you come tumbling down from a
foundation weaken by the strength
of my convictions for change
you find my demands for inclusion
as an outrageous attempt at
displacing your privilege.
your right one part,
I am displacing your privilege and
it's about time someone did
but I am not as outrageous as
I would like to be
And when I speak to my community
in a language you have ignore,
your guilt places the blame on me as
you demand I speak in the language
of the colonizer for this is what
privilege allows you to do
And then you expect me to notice
your eyes beckoning forgiveness for
a century and a half of guilt
that you blame on your ancestors
and how comfortable it must be to
displace your privilege on a history
you fail to recognize still oppresses me
while ignoring that, in fifty years,
apartheid will exist in this country
when whites, rich with undeserved power,
become the minority,
and will you still teach your children
to ignore mine, forcing me to teach
my children to beat the privilege out of yours? | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/11/2005 4:58:43 PM | I am in awe of many things here....
Your pain
Your anger at real or perceived apartheid
Your wish to reverse the minority, majority roles
Your pain
I am a White Anglo Saxon Protestant of Irish descent who grew up in Africa in a time when Colonial priviledge was the norm.
I thank God that my parents were ahead of their time and demanded of us (my siblings and I ) that we respect ALL regardless of colour or creed. Having said that the only "predjudice" I have ever encountered was being mistaken fior an American rather than a Canadian when I was back in the UK.
NO ONE has the right to be disrespectful or judge another to be "Less than"
However,
I hope you and yours can find a level ground here and let go of some of your anger and pain, because they are SO negative and ultimately destructive. Please don't think I am being judgemental.....I am just MAD
You obviously write from the heart...I would love to see some of your other work
Take care
Pickles
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/11/2005 7:51:43 PM | I agree with Pickles...very diplomatic. I have not shared many of the same experiences, however...but some similar things have happened deep in my rooty past.
But, all I have is this short poem:
=======================
A Splintered Soapbox
I try to steer clear of the political bent
Time can be more elegantly spent
Take, for instance, the issue of race
It’s strange because we travel at the same pace
===========================
Okay...I'm taking off my pants and heading to bed. Hugs and handshakes to all. G'night. | |
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| From the shadows
Posted: 8/11/2005 10:52:18 PM | Hi eveyone!
Drop and run.
The Time Is Now
Dark seed,
Brought forth onto man,
Hell breed,
Over a millenium span.
Evil reign,
Which none extols,
Exquisite pain,
The ravaging of souls.
Hateful greed,
Neverending, his lust,
Merciless creed,
Against all who are just.
Blasphemy supreme,
Lucifer is his name,
Blackest scheme,
He has come to stake his claim.
Be very afraid,
For this much is true,
He can't be swayed,
You'll pay for all you do.
The time is now,
Your life will be weighed,
To judgement bow,
A full price to be paid.
Good luck!
~Kobold~ | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/11/2005 11:20:56 PM | Kobold, you charmer you, haha....
==========================
ON EVERY STREET
Saves his pennies but blows his five buck bills
on turpentine and multi-coloured pills.
Creased suit, creased face, blood-soaked shirt and beard,
slumped in an alcove where crossing thugs are feared.
Immobile as a cement slab, a moaning
issues from the rags, meager, atoning.
Self-stricken, a heroic effort to rise;
head up for sun, red rosary beads his eyes. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/12/2005 4:26:57 AM | Ah’ll kill you. (a rock n roll song)
I wanna kill you **** you use you
………who’s gonna stop me?
Ah’ll kill you
I wanna roast you roll you gut you
…….whaccha gonna do about it?
Ah’ll kill you
You’re gonna let me beg me aid and abet me
………so you’re gonna harm me!
You and who’s army?
Ah’ll kill you
Let Bruce Willis do your fighting for you
………dial 999 and ask for the coastguard
Ah’ll kill you
I’ll be gone and you’ll be slaughtered
……..before they’ve got their oilskins on
Tapped out their pipes and trimmed their skillets
And hauled their sorry a***s out of the seaman’s quarters
If it wriggles kill it
If it wiggles ah’ll kill you
If it skittles
If it breathes
Moves
Thinks
Lives ah’ll kill you
Grows
Glows
Individuates
Organizes
Ah’ll kill you
All that lives I’m gonna kill
All that is I wanna use
All these gifts I shall abuse
Distill
Defuse
Send yourself back to boot hill
I am the froth of wrath at your gills
I am the fear with which Ah’ll kill you
You’ve been congenitally instilled
Ah’ll kill you
with the toss of your caber
Ah’ll kill you
The empty pot of your nakedness pills
Ah’ll kill you
sooner or later Ah’ll kill you. x1,000. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/12/2005 10:49:54 AM | Ode to Pie
I like pie
Pie time, yum
Get in my tummy Mr. Pie
Oh, the happy berries and crust
Yum, yum, yummy, yum
Smell thy fragrant pie
Pie time, yum
I like pie
Do you like pie?
 | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/12/2005 3:56:11 PM | Well good day y'all... Looks like it's been a busy barn day...
Hey Pickles - - Hugzzzzz back at ya...You're a gem ,,,, grannypickles :-)
Rory, Kobold - - Keep them fine words coming
Greetings Carlito - Your invisible punch was a heavy hit
Hello Maart- I'm sure your works will fit in this ole' barn
G'Day Fluffy_Clouds - - Yup, I like your pie words :-) ... Watch your step around here; you might trip on a cow pie or a bit of Goat dung.
Sweet Goat- Your last wee poem was right on the money! You have a splendid mind and a gift with words.....I hope you don't have any soapbox splinters in that fine Goaty a*** of yours ;-)
~~
An evening in the Grain belt
A whistle in the breeze
The quiet rustling of trees
A leaf gently tossed
The promise of a summer frost
Across a sky alive with light
Stars whisper in the night
The air speaks of fall
I lean to hear a Meadowlark's call
A few simple moments
The sweetness of his scent
An evening unplanned
The touch of a gentle hand
Two souls sleep
Nestled beneath Polar Fleece sheets
~~
G'night all - - Wings and a brew call...sleep well | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/12/2005 7:52:54 PM | Hello all. Good to see so many fine folk here today. Great to see Kobold back in action as well...how are you doing there, buddy?
Howdy to Maart and Fluffy_Clouds...the latter of whom has inspired tonight's terrible goat-poem. Thanks, pardner.
Here we go:
==========================
Pie and Itchy Thighs, Oh My
How does one make a goat turd pie?
It takes a little goat and a lot of flies
It takes a bit of fibre and a lot of force
Some peanuts and some gravel of course
Top it all off with a warm, flat beer
Put it in Tupperware and keep sealed until next year
When it has fully cured, the next is a must
Get yourself a sturdy pie crust
Preheat the oven to 452
Stir in the contents of one old shoe
Drop the mixture into the crusty bed
Breathe through your mouth, or your senses will have fled
Bake until slightly burnt to bring out the taste
At 300 calories a slice, it will all go to your waist
After three pieces it will go to your head
If you eat the whole thing, you'll be dead
=================================
Okay...the wings and beer are almost all gone. Breathing and I did have a fine meal of two of the major food groups. Now it's time to sit on the couch and feel the belly expand and let the farts happen. We sure know how to have a good time here.
G'night, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/13/2005 7:49:07 AM | Thanks for the welcoming thoughts!  I like the name of this poetry thread best .. err .. I mean I like the poetry here best. I would never judge a book by its cover. 
I haven't checked out the other threads much, but some pretty creative stuff here. And I'm glad to see that my pie silliness was able to inspire bigger and better things. 
Ode to Mr. Bigglesworth
Oh snuggly little kitten
Your fluffy fur feels just like mittens
Watching you racing up and down
I'm never left with a frown
It really is sad
To see that my poetry is really this clumsy and bad
But I just want everyone to see
How much you mean to me | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/13/2005 8:57:51 AM | dear fluffy clouds... i think the two poems of yours i have read are laconic, playful, hilarious, touching and distilled. massively refreshing amidst all this miasmic angst ( i include myself...) love it love it love it. the first line of this poem is the first lien of the e first biggles book which became exceptionally popular with children...
biggles
peace is such a dreadful bore - said biggles
snicker snicker snicker
we really need a third world war
tee hee hee - he giggled
what we want is confrontation
conflagration
not unlike the fate of slough
(come friendly bombs and drop on slough
it isn't fit for humans now
there isn't grass to graze a cow
roll over death)
flying high the old school tie
is flapping as we thrust and parry
think of england tea for two
and croquet on the lawn with larry
oh my god but ginge has bought it!
bit the big one he's had his
gone to meet the great commander
who will tell his relatives?
big john wayne knows how to do it
"sorry ma'am - but ginge has gone
took ten bandits single handed
and he had his best boots on"
peace is such a dreadful bore said biggles (blair)
as he sipped his gin and tonic
a great big world exists out there
i wish that I I I - could bomb it... | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/13/2005 7:42:25 PM | Howdy all. Good to see youse guys here and posting such finery. All this talk of cats has got me in a mood for a tribute to a former pet. It's a post and run night...time has slipped away on me once again.
Here ya go:
==========================
A Cat with Backfat
We once had a cat
And it was so tragically fat
He had trouble walking
Instead of actually hunting
He would lie still and be grunting
At the birds he wanted to be stalking
So he would be still and eat
Atrophied became his feet
At him, our neighbours would be gawking
I retained my druthers
But compared him to Sally Struthers
At his recovery, I was balking
============================
Well, that'll do it for tonight. Be kind to animals and each other. We're animals, too.
Be ready for the sermon tomorrow. I may or may not post it naked. We shall see. I hope that thought keeps ya'll warm tonight.
G'night, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/14/2005 9:17:59 AM | Hello all. Are you sitting down? Well, stand up and give me an Amen!! Here, I'll get the banjo and the rum and we'll have a sing-a-long here in the church. But first, we'll need a sermon:
=========================
Psalm 1298 – The Book of Goat
Twas on a sunny day last week
When Thy Lard witnessed a pair of
Abominations
The price of gasoline leapt to $1.05 a litre
And Thy Lard doth know the price of gas
Is higher elsewhere in the world
So don’t rag Him out for that alone
But what picketh Thy Lard’s ass
Most Thoroughly
Are the people who drive
Their immense and thirsty trucks
Cars and SUV’s
Mere blocks and back
And complaineth
Most bitterly about the price of gas
And claim
They can’t afford to drive anymore
To this, Thy Lard useth the Holy Proclmation
“Good”
And
“Go ride a bke, Lard Ass”
Or
“Go park your Ford F350 up your ass sideways”
And complaineth not as thy drive
Across the street to the store
Because the weight of your cigarettes
Is too much for your pocket to bear
And your legs to convey
Twenty feet across the street
(Ya fat **stard)
Amen
================================
This was inspired by the fat, stinky man I saw last week. He actually drove across the street to the convenience store and it was literally twenty feet across the street.
Twenty. Feet.
Good Gawd. And the number of people who are driving these huge trucks and everyone is driving one person per car...and then they complain about how expensive it is to drive.
Allright, I'm getting off my soapbox. Sorry about that. It's out of my system now.
See you tomorrow, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/14/2005 2:12:04 PM | Maartijno, thanks for the compliments. The Biggles poem was very cute and fun, and a little disturbing at the same time, hehe.
GoatSmell, great poem about your fat cat that was only able to grunt at birds instead of being actually able to chase them.
And the sermon was very inspiring.  | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/14/2005 6:06:51 PM | Hey, Lardly One, great sermon today, a veritable vitriolic explosion from the frontal orifice (this time). This is your Holy Therapist. Take two quaaludian wafers n' call me in the morning.
=====================================================================
FISH IN THE NEWS
Six furlongs under the ocean's crest,
fish sing in their own language.
Does the language differ radically
from one species to another?
Or, if the same species,
from one country to another?
And is there a United Nations Council
at the mid-point of the Pacific
where tribunals are held
regarding language laws?
These are the questions
that newspapers never ask.
But how many times
do they wonder about
the next referendum?
And who's in, who's out?
If Harper, Layton, and Martin
could meet naked
once every two months,
don Leave-it-to-Beaver caps
while sipping dark Jamaican rum,
dancing the retro Watusi,
and ask these important questions
earnestly, with conviction,
then maybe, perhaps, perchance, possibly,
they could challenge reporters
to ask better questions of them,
the newspapers would become interesting,
and we wouldn't so quickly
use them to so gently wrap
the much more vital fish,
dead, but with Mona Lisa smiles
regarding their governments. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/15/2005 3:56:28 PM | Hello all you talented barn Poets ...Great writes, as always.
Fluffyclouds -- Keep coming 'round these parts, eh! You add a bit of that ole' California sunshine, ya do.
Maart -- You have bite to your words, as only a Londoner could
Rory -- Fish in the news was a fine dish, Yes indeed!
Sweet smelly Goat ~ I bow to you ~ Yee witty and wise poet
~~
Prairie clouds swirl above
Mountains I left behind
Lakes and cliffs I thought I'd miss
Traveling east I headed home
I arrived in a gentler land
The scent of rolling hills
Tumble weeds and fields of wheat
The sight of the sun dancing on the edge of dusk
I left behind the western sky
To settle in a place of love
~~
Night all - - see you again soon | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/15/2005 7:12:31 PM | Howdy all...post n' run. Here we go:
========================
The Larnin’ Channel
What a day for learning, it has been
Simon Stevin invented the decimal system
Sometime in the early 15th century
How vacation pay is accrued for US employees
In this century
A urine-powered battery was developed in Singapore
Composed of paper
Soaked in copper chloride,
Sandwiched between layers
Of magnesium and copper
Piss into power
The power of piss
It’s evident now as the second beer is drunk
Hydraulic pressure
Propels the bladder forth
Conveys it all to the washroom
Where things are never parceled out
In decimals
============================
And we's a-runnin. G'night, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/15/2005 8:55:03 PM | In a little wooden box
With a blue and white check liner
It looked so fine, benign
Evoking memories of older times
When lunch was wrapped up
In a bucket
Even in Nantucket.
Benign....... Oh how I was fooled
Into thinking I might use this as a centerpiece
A cog in a culinary wheel, a tool
To get the Pavlovian reflexes started.
Alas, once unwrapped
It was as though the world had farted
Aromas of those long departed
This coil
We recoiled.
I would urge all to beware
To take care
When serving that ubiquitous
Utterly delicious
French Camenbert
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/15/2005 9:20:14 PM | Watching. . .
Today began like any other day,
The sun rose from its sleep, it was a new day,
I watched the sun rise today.
As the day began, I heard the birds sing,
It was a comforting song they all had,
I felt peace today.
Today while walking to work,
I saw a father and his daughter,
They were holding hands,
The daughter slowly looks up to her father,
She smiles gleefully, she sings him a song,
Shortly thereafter, both are singing a song,
I felt their love towards one another.
The day wore on, the clouds invaded the sun's space,
Shortly after that, it was no longer sunny,
The sun lost its place, it was becoming dark,
The sky was angry, and let out a roar,
It was thundering and than water filled the sky,
I watched it rain today.
The rain stopped, the sky stopped roaring,
It was quiet now,
The sun fought its way out of the clouds,
It is sun shining once more,
I saw the sun shine once more.
I saw someone sing the old hymn of faith, Amazxing Grace,
The harmony in her voice, the tune to which she sang,
There was harmony to those who heard her words,
Truly she was inspired by the Lord.
Today I saw and heard all these things,
What tomorrow should bring to me,
I do not koow, but I look forward to it. . . | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/16/2005 3:09:17 PM | Howdy folks...
Greets Americangentleman
Pickles ....For the love of cheese, pass the Camenbert
Goat ... Y'ar the best, hooves and all
~~
Rain blankets the land
The gentle taste of fall
Moist on my tongue
The scent of winter
Resting on my heels
With the echo of a prairie wind
I set out on two wheels
Pedals across wheat fields
A quiet moment inside
The turning of a day
The silence of a mind
~~ | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/16/2005 6:35:42 PM | Howdy all. Good to see Pickles in fine form again. And also good to see Americangentleman again here.
As for me..more post and run:
=====================
They Crunch. Numbers
Nothing was learned today
Apart
From how dense accountants can be
And
How much they like to be
Blame throwers
When it all
Hits the fan
=====================
And a-running I will go. G'night, eh? | |
|
| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 8/17/2005 1:27:40 PM | The following is an unpaid advertisement for decadence ~ ~ Indulge at your own risk
Tis a quiet barn day...hello to all you lurkers out there...
A hug for you, Sweet Goat
~~
A taste of love
Boylan’s Birch Beer
A hint of yucca extract
A splash of birch oil
Dark and rich
Laced with pure cane sugar
With a bite that lasts
Chilled in the freezer
Straight from the bottle is best
A side of rich, sweet
Bernard Callebaut’s
Heavenly Dark Chocolate
Champagne Truffles
Blanketed with love
Chocolate covered orange peels
Soaked in Grand Marnier
Savoured beneath a setting sun
~~
sleep well fellow barn patrons | |
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