Poetry Club

Rum, beer, women, movies, nice websites, gaming, etc., without interrupting the flow of martial threads.

Re: Poetry Club

Postby Quigga on Thu Apr 28, 2022 2:21 am

There are many forms of life in the jungle
Visible and invisible ones
Some creatures can be easily spotted, but would rather not to
Some spent their entire lives hiding, but their hidden beauty is founded in that
Some move and some seem not to
Some kill you without notice, some draw you in with colours smells and sounds you've never had the chance to embody before
They say the tiger is the king
Then the jungle is the queen

Who was there before
Who is bigger, who is smaller in their graspable and ungraspable effects

It doesn't matter as both take their allotted turns that were decided before even the tiniest speck of organic matter assumed a conscious configuration

One is reaping, one is sowing
Both have access to both, tiger and jungle

Who is living in whom
Where are the borders

Tigers are supposed to prey on humans only with good reasons
The jungle primarily takes away the unprepared and naive

Both contain lessons that are founded in their opposites - cruelty brings forth grace and mercy, yet without it they wouldn't be able to shine
Enjoying the illusion is true freedom
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Re: Poetry Club

Postby Appledog on Fri Apr 29, 2022 4:00 pm

look at the space inside body and mind
the door will open and you will find
letting go of tension, troubles and stress
the energy field will align in rest
Be thankful, be thankful, for insight that's gained
From neijing and laozi and yijing attained.


Last edited by Appledog on Fri Apr 29, 2022 4:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Poetry Club

Postby Giles on Sat Apr 30, 2022 1:33 am

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

---- Something I just came up with before breakfast this morning. A quick and dirty meditation on the difficulty of reconciling putative different aspects of a (Christian) god.

Do not make the mistake of giving up the near in order to seek the far.
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Location: Berlin, Germany

Re: Poetry Club

Postby origami_itto on Fri May 06, 2022 7:10 am

https://thetaojoannes.blogspot.com/2022 ... -i-am.html

I Am That I Am

I have been the butt
of your low-hanging jokes,
for as far back as I can remember.

But I gotta admit that ain't too far.

Between the k2, booze, and blunt force trauma
bout the only thing that sticks, anymore,
is the pillow
and some
macaroni and cheese
when I'm stabbing my brother.

When beer is your coffee,
life takes on dimensions
mere muggles can't begin to grok.

When the zombies attack,
you gotta throw bricks,
or raw chunks of crumpled concrete,
whatever you got on hand, really.

And when you live like me,
it's better to forget
that your wife collected money
for your dead sons
while they were still alive,
and tried to bite your dick off
when you was too tired
for relations.

I got seven friends a day
dying from prescription overdose.
I got a hundred thousand brothers
rotting right now in prison.

I stabbed a Bears fan in the spur of the moment,
and shot my own damn self bowling on a Tuesday night.

I got caught masturbating on a public boat ramp.

What I'm trying to say
is that if you been through what I been through
you'd get a beer while fleeing police too.
Cuz you'd know it'd be a while before your next one.

and if you ever let the buzz wear off
and the memories catch up
you'll have a hangover that could kill that skunk ape,
that I saw that night
trying to rape that alligator
out behind my toolshed.

You can't hear about me without smirking,
and your silent "there but for the grace of God go I"
I don't blame you for feeling superior.
We're each just as we was created.
But don't act like you don't envy me.

My name brings them to their knees,
killing from Glengarry to Synecdoche,
St Paul to San Tropez.
I got 400 million hits on google,
and 108 thousand followers on twitter
watch me come up
I'll be bigger than anonymous,
but I want you to know my name.
I am Florida Man.

I will get a blowjob from a hooker with my toddler in the car.
I will throw eggs at the courthouse.
I will sometimes be attacked by alligators.
I will often be found butt naked,
in the wrong person's house or apartment,
or on the side of the road,
proposing to a dead pit bull,
or making love to it.

I love my little cock-shaped state
and you can't take your greedy eyes off it.

born in the fountain of youth
washed in the blood of conquest
trained by mad raving pirates
stolen from the Seminole
plundered by capitalist greed
shaped by drug cartels and the space race

this is a land of endless freedom
strapped down by dickhead cops

And if you're too scared to push it to the edge
how can you feel superior when I fall?
You rely on God's grace to keep you out of danger
because you can't handle this heat.
Like a caged canary laughing at raging wild turkey
you hold your manhood
while I speak.

And I'll leave you with the words
tattooed across my neck,
"Only God can juge this soul"
and YES, I know I spelled judge wrong
see above for the disposition of that thought.

And I will chew your fucking face off!
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that jing.
"What is essential is invisible to the eye"
Have Peng, Will Travel.
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Re: Poetry Club

Postby Quigga on Sun May 08, 2022 5:34 am

And God will judge that soul
Enjoying the illusion is true freedom
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Joined: Mon Mar 19, 2012 1:08 pm


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