Paper garden blues...
Posted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 9:21 am
My ‘poetry’ on the subject of forums and the internet..
Written in the last two years and collected together from various threads in no particular order.. Some are just quick sketches written on the spur of the moment and some took hours.. Sadly you can’t really tell one from the other.. hmmm.
~
THE TROLL..
Once I saw a troll; who sat beneath a tree.
He told me he was better than I could ever be.
I said not a word but smiled at this **** poor repartee.
“You say nothing? He said “: so I think you must agree.
“Nothing is what I’m telling you Troll. Try talking to the tree.
If I respond to f**king stupid, how stupid would that make me?
~
THE SPAMMER.
Mediocrity let's lose your bastard child.
They’re typing crap, They’re spamming wild.
Spewing words like verbal suppositories.
Retching up endless written atrocities.
Quoting sweet scented wisdom, piety in pornocracy,
to mask the stench of teenage hypocrisy.
Mediocrity lets waste this waste of breath.
Before they bore us all to death.
~
PAPER GARDEN BLUES..
So drops the acid fairy,
Into the mind of the unawary.
Intoxication bated my willful breath;
As cool the rise of a lingering death.
And so it was with I.
All shod in sunlight and with lips to thigh.
Dressed in her many splendid lie.
Drowning in the inviolate beds;
Of the paper garden blues, and reds.
So stops the acid fairy.
There to find the foolishly wary.
Poisons to steel the breath.
Death by black silk lingerie no less.
Or so it seemed to me.
All grown in a mystery she lies.
Each last breath, each lover sighs.
In the luscious garden hues,
of the paper gardens reds, and blues.
~
IDLE WIRE
F**k are we bored tonight.
Are the words to ebb so trite.
In and out the muddy myrrh.
clarity lost on steely wire.
~
FORUM FOG.
Forum fog has descended on a labyrinthine mess.
Which fool said nothing succeeds like excess ?
Another wave, another fragile truth;
to sink into the sands of restless youth.
Perpetual emotion on a darkened shore.
(There’s another bright spark for the damp human flaw.)
What are we all doing here but stacking the shelves;
with loose definitions of our tin-idol selves.
“But wait, out there, On the waves, proof in quotes.
Some of the droplets do sparkle, but ‘sh*t always floats’.
~
SHY (I F**ked my friend )
I watched you shy of the mirror,
Stealing yourself away you shiver to see this rag tag carnival pass. A bedroom spider sits and scrolls and sneers at the spammers, the poets and the trolls.. These dead faced angels will scour each thread to watch for the echo from things they have said. In the insomniac’s vigil at the edge of the web.
And there too, spouting the wisdom of a bygone age, like some flee bitten parrot in a bright electric cage; an odious intellectual turns an erudite ode, as the girl with cat has ‘ just named it toad ’.Yet no twinkle in the eye or deep breathy sigh, no laughter will ever intrude, on the rarified air of the cynic who cares to be indifferent and globally rude.
The psychobabble shoppers with their dreary fixes; babble on and on anon’ to the theology mixers. Tourists on a tour of dark lurid spaces, they illuminate the corners to see too fresh faces. Flowers grow too briefly in the darkness here. They shed their petals with sickening cheer. The hot sour breath will deflower all, here
~
Written in the last two years and collected together from various threads in no particular order.. Some are just quick sketches written on the spur of the moment and some took hours.. Sadly you can’t really tell one from the other.. hmmm.
~
THE TROLL..
Once I saw a troll; who sat beneath a tree.
He told me he was better than I could ever be.
I said not a word but smiled at this **** poor repartee.
“You say nothing? He said “: so I think you must agree.
“Nothing is what I’m telling you Troll. Try talking to the tree.
If I respond to f**king stupid, how stupid would that make me?
~
THE SPAMMER.
Mediocrity let's lose your bastard child.
They’re typing crap, They’re spamming wild.
Spewing words like verbal suppositories.
Retching up endless written atrocities.
Quoting sweet scented wisdom, piety in pornocracy,
to mask the stench of teenage hypocrisy.
Mediocrity lets waste this waste of breath.
Before they bore us all to death.
~
PAPER GARDEN BLUES..
So drops the acid fairy,
Into the mind of the unawary.
Intoxication bated my willful breath;
As cool the rise of a lingering death.
And so it was with I.
All shod in sunlight and with lips to thigh.
Dressed in her many splendid lie.
Drowning in the inviolate beds;
Of the paper garden blues, and reds.
So stops the acid fairy.
There to find the foolishly wary.
Poisons to steel the breath.
Death by black silk lingerie no less.
Or so it seemed to me.
All grown in a mystery she lies.
Each last breath, each lover sighs.
In the luscious garden hues,
of the paper gardens reds, and blues.
~
IDLE WIRE
F**k are we bored tonight.
Are the words to ebb so trite.
In and out the muddy myrrh.
clarity lost on steely wire.
~
FORUM FOG.
Forum fog has descended on a labyrinthine mess.
Which fool said nothing succeeds like excess ?
Another wave, another fragile truth;
to sink into the sands of restless youth.
Perpetual emotion on a darkened shore.
(There’s another bright spark for the damp human flaw.)
What are we all doing here but stacking the shelves;
with loose definitions of our tin-idol selves.
“But wait, out there, On the waves, proof in quotes.
Some of the droplets do sparkle, but ‘sh*t always floats’.
~
SHY (I F**ked my friend )
I watched you shy of the mirror,
Stealing yourself away you shiver to see this rag tag carnival pass. A bedroom spider sits and scrolls and sneers at the spammers, the poets and the trolls.. These dead faced angels will scour each thread to watch for the echo from things they have said. In the insomniac’s vigil at the edge of the web.
And there too, spouting the wisdom of a bygone age, like some flee bitten parrot in a bright electric cage; an odious intellectual turns an erudite ode, as the girl with cat has ‘ just named it toad ’.Yet no twinkle in the eye or deep breathy sigh, no laughter will ever intrude, on the rarified air of the cynic who cares to be indifferent and globally rude.
The psychobabble shoppers with their dreary fixes; babble on and on anon’ to the theology mixers. Tourists on a tour of dark lurid spaces, they illuminate the corners to see too fresh faces. Flowers grow too briefly in the darkness here. They shed their petals with sickening cheer. The hot sour breath will deflower all, here
~
