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The Hemulen View Drop Down
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 21 2006 at 17:21
I haven't posted any work here for a while, so here's a taster of what I've been up to. These are all poems written to be left on people's myspace pages. The last one was written for the Residents.


Some Things

1. A cat-flap: Fashioned from hair and ham.
2. A hat-flap: Fashioned from tripe and gunk.
3. A bat-flap: Fashioned from bells and oil.
4. A sausage.
5. A sausage.
6. A sausage.
7. A sausage.
8. A mat-flap: Fashioned from chunks and slunky.
9. A vat-flap: Fashioned from scritt and lips.
10. A gnat-flap: Fashioned from Bill and Mike.
11. A spat-flap: Fashioned from arms and koi.
12. A Yugoslavia.
13. A Tom Lehrer.
14. A concertina.
15. A loaf of God.
16. A sausage.
17. A sausage.
18. A cat-flap: Fashioned from previous flaps.



Well, I say Aubergine but I might mean Something Else

Nipple sent it upwards,
Nipple’s a mistake.
Nipple sings for television.
Nipple is a lake.

Aubergine is Canada.
Canada’s in France.
Aubergine is angry now,
And does a tiny dance.

Whatever It Was a Minute Ago It Isn't Now
A spluttering tribute to Ludd, mess and the fear of ear-fancies.


So yer:
Spittin’ all them wet-chinned ear-fancies through a plastic trumpet (honk thruntle yourself, Jeff),
an’
Lickin’ all them walnuts up from the inside only to be shrugged off (honk thruntle the wife n’ all),
an’
Flittin’ all them picture-pointed malapropisms for sport an’ God an’ ham (honk thruntle a cat if it comes to it).

Know what your problem is?
Yer a second-rate barrow-brained spatula carcass, Jeff, and I don’t care who knows it. Not even the wife.
Yer feet are stuck sideways in yer titillated storage jar of slapdash familiarity frogs and the only person dim enough to notice is me and a passing hand-bogus Dudley platoon (and they’re mostly in it for dirty prints and the occasional half-curtained sub-general chipolata).

Hat hat, you see what that, eh? String that in a nest of newsreaders and yer asking for trouble (let alone a new suit).

Yet yer:
Stickin’ all them leg-cornered ear-fancies off through a plastic strumpet (honk thruntle till it bursts, Jeff, honk thruntle all the way to the bank you f**ker),
an’
Flippin’ all them spill-bellied quail extractors hugely only to be slugged off (honk thruntle with a bleedin’ kettle on yer face, THAT’S IT, LAUGH WHY DON’T YER?)
an'
Grittin’ all them nightly carrotine bilge-diffusers for thought an’ cod an’ ham (honk thruntle like a right f**kin’ spool of cress, Jeff, that’s the way to do it).

Know what your problem is?
Yer sinkin’ in a crate of creamy head-wash an’ my crank’s not gonna ‘elp yer when yer moon’s all dangled.
Yer dallyin’ with gravy spokes and only a bouncin’ syphilis’d do that.

Hat hat, ya see what that, eh?  Yer dead, ya f**kin’ cardboard dingo.


Gizzus a hug.
(Ya t**t.)



Bungee Brick

Bungee brick is wet for tick and thirst it burst and spooned in minor.
Socking sick, his only trick when worst it cursed and crooned angina.
Lally lally understated all that was particularly.
Bally bally dislocated all that was a neck.
(Off).

Bilge

Sucked like a Pope hump ninety nightly quite severely under-par in a keg protractor under-par in a leg.
f**ked like a soap pump ninety nightly quite severely under-par in a dreg extractor under-par in a leg.

I wash my feet in a glass of Lucozade.
I wash my face in a paper cone of squash.
I wash my feet in a tub of formic acid.
I wash my face in a paper cone of squash.

f**ked like a hope jump ninety nightly quite severely under-par in a dreg protractor under-par in a leg.
Sucked like a rope thump ninety nightly quite serverely under-par in a keg extractor under-par in a leg.


Teaching Your Grandmother To Pluck Eggs

Lily spit to zimmer nicely:
Harold musn’t know.
Lemual touch inside a fruit,
(expecting it to grow).

Tit.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 21 2006 at 17:24
"honk thruntle "...?? Confused
 
ClapClapClapLOL
 
keep 'em comin' Mr.T !!!
 
 
Prog Archives Tour Van
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 21 2006 at 17:27
Trust me, I shall. I have no "off" switch.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 21 2006 at 23:26
Well, I have returned from an evening out in a not so good state of mind and have written the following.

It's awful, so forgive me!

Cold Comfort Balm (A way to vent-ilate, pontificate and confiscate the human psyche) - part 1

It's a wonder I'm alive.
Scars betray my inner wisdom
Outer space, out of date.
Living is apparently a fun task
although laughing is better.
So what's my plan?
I have no idea...
I think and think and think
nothing really comes to mind
Scarred, strained, pained.
Wake up!
No!
Make a name for yourself,
you deserve the accolades,
but why, I don't feel I do?
Shout, shout, make a noise.
Those who are noticed, get places.

A fine philosophy maybe...
it's not for me. A maniac.
A cad.
A clinically depressed fact.

Am I well?
Am I swell?
Am I to dwell
on things past and present?

Possibly.

Shout, shout, make a noise.
Those who are a pain, well
they are always a pain.

I'm messed, stressed, a pest.

Maybe one day I will be forgotten,
remembered
shelved under miscellaneous.

Lest you forget...
I am a human.

Geck0 - 22 October 2006


Edited by Geck0 - October 26 2006 at 15:48
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 25 2006 at 03:01
Imagined Ocean of Golden Waves
Of Imagined Things to Come
Tossed here lies my picture broken
Shot and tattered with an imagined gun
 
 
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 27 2006 at 09:24
Pretty much, when I write, I like to have a flow
I like to do it improvised in order to make it go
I try not to take long pauses and have time to think
because the truest stuff you can ever write comes straight from the kitchen sink
if you don't have time to think of stuff then you should probably just write
because your mind is always working, don't matter, be it day or night
you'll get some stuff right from the heart, it doesn't even have to make sense
because you know deep down that it came from you and shall forever hence
be wrapped in your brain and spat out in time, space, and wax
and it'll rush out onto the crowd of people standing by the stacks
it'll overflow into ears and warp down twisted paths
until each ear has had it's fill, equal because of the paths
but the journey my friend does not end there, oh no I'm not done yet
I've just begun
even if I stop I'll still carry on
My images and words travel through thoughts and sound
only to be re-written in a different context
The only bit left off me will change; I will have become something different
But I'll still live on.
*Remember all advice given by Asuma is for entertainment purposes only. Asuma is not a licensed medical doctor, psychologist, or counselor and he does not play one on TV.*
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 31 2006 at 13:30
Ode to Charles Fourier
 
Should you be a butcher
if you like to kill
come on over to my office
and sign up if you will
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: October 31 2006 at 17:07
Haha, I like it.
*Remember all advice given by Asuma is for entertainment purposes only. Asuma is not a licensed medical doctor, psychologist, or counselor and he does not play one on TV.*
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 02 2006 at 15:41
I slit a sheet
A sheet I slit
Upon that slitted sheet I sit

That was a famous poem I learned in Grade 8. Now try saying it really fast. Wink
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 02 2006 at 19:44
Originally posted by tardis tardis wrote:

I slit a sheet
A sheet I slit
Upon that slitted sheet I sit

That was a famous poem I learned in Grade 8. Now try saying it really fast. Wink


Noice, reminds me a little bit of John M Bennett's "The Shirt, The Sheet", which is a simply awesome performance poem of his. Take a listen to the extract on this page: http://www.johnmbennett.net/SoundPoetry_JohnMBennett.html


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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 02 2006 at 20:51
Originally posted by asuma asuma wrote:

Haha, I like it.

    
If you were refering to my poem, which I think you were, you must then know who Fourier was. He was an impractical fruitcake.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 03 2006 at 09:17
wrote this yesterday morning...

when i look out my window
something obscures my morning view
like specks in your glassy eyes
will you hold me when i fall?

the sound you make when crunching through
frightened i might fall through
overcome with dread and despair
your heart sank to the lowest level at an alarming rate

while you fall you've been filled with awe
as heavy as a bowling ball
it's hard not to panic
and hard not to gasp, you stop yourself in time

fascinated, a glimmer of the sun shines thru the slow moving space
stars are glimmering, hard to see, something's in your sight
hard to be so happy in such blight

another world you've just discovered
don't cover your eyes, this is all that's left
you're just a tourist, but no sites to see
your times run out

buy a ticket and get on the plane

©2006 tyler
[IMG]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i165/amorfous/astro-1.jpg">

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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 04 2006 at 02:19
Death. It will get us all.

The End.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 05 2006 at 01:31
My day today: writen in a record time of 1 minute and 30 seconds. (correct grammar out the window.. all this really happened. Cept the drugs)


Really huge Tree's buy me glowing orange fuzzy dust to sleep on in the winter time when i pretend i am the bear who wears a trumpet hat for dinner and lunch with my mom only on weekends i say then i destroy a rock dragon ball z style and sing my cocain a song about babies doing things only teenagers do when they are by themselfs with they're fathers and they're fathers tiny blue lights that stick to the end of sticks of stuff but only in weekends i say and i wear clouds on my loins cause im like a god a god who really enjoys singing the blues with miles davis and john zorn while getting high on dmt with metal straws and jello hats when i small voice tells me about the roasted duck that's waiting for me under my toilet only to punch me and leave me forever making me sad but a little bit like mnemosyne who just found out she was adopted so a videogame addicted whino reaches for my knees only to end up eating my teeth instead of teaching me alittle about the icelandic culture and their ways of doings things that involve space docking and watering Anemone with some type of metal that exists only if the tripod says it can which usually take about 5 minutes and 19 bags a funnion's later i feel like poo and want to die but i dont cause the view from the parking garage is pretty neat but a little freaky when with your brother who's drinking and telling you the story's of when he was crazy in a bank and a little sundays school which teaches us not to be scared to get on a bus just because you dont wanna spend the money and transers end up ruing themselfs in your pockets as if your a clown with really baggy pants that barey stay on even when your holding them with your hands and fingers as hard as you can.... Also a dog finds out he's a robot.



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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 05 2006 at 01:43



"Without Seafood
i'm like Fish
without water"


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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 05 2006 at 03:41
"I wanna rub pickles together"

"So hard the sounds makes xeroderma'd neck feel soft"

"Ahhhhhmen"



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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 08 2006 at 11:34
Here are lyrics from a song I wrote back in the mid-80s

F.O.S (Failure of Success)

Rhythms in the night
Its the pulse of the dark
Nocturnal dreams
Make a live, distinctive bark
Between the sharpened sounds
There's a hum which never ends
Listen, there's a message in the pattern
That it sends.

Living one life
Just for monetary gains.
Ignoring the clock
And feeling all the pain
Prizes of glory
Ferrari in the drive
Working all night
Forget 9 to 5.

Where's your life?
Don't you see it passing by?
You never even heard
Your own child's cry.
So maybe when you're grasping
For your last breath.
At such an early age
You realized your death.
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 09 2006 at 03:09
Dripping
 
Sprouted purple spores airborne on
borrowed rays from bows of rain.
In colors, vibrant shades are poured.
Pastures harvesting the grain.
 
Plains pastel touch shifting shapes.
Round hills level to a flat surface.
Summer solstice seems honest.
Weeping clouds bring liquid mist.
 
Seeds from Spring bring allergies to
Automn in an absent leave.
Trees trade leafs but bark they keep.
Colors camoflauge skin deep.
 
Aging sounds in echoes soar,
Fading from a volume loud.
Poison's alternate the norm.
Am I dripping down, forward?
 
Water's recedence predicts
The presence of disapearence.
Lost within the ocean's depths.
And arrival.
As the tide is present,
Sorrow will follow
Our survival.


Edited by Rust - November 09 2006 at 17:27
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 09 2006 at 03:17
My Economy
 
An economy.
Investing in production.
Infested in consumption.
Power plants, destruction.
Pawns of businessmen to conqure
The land of "free men".
 
I can't see through such
foggy smoke, the acid rain
rusting my sight. I choke
on the particulates,
I must participate
in this pleasurable pain.
 
Exposed to so much gluttony.
Obligated to follow in folly.
My needs unmet, my wants
no relent. I greed with
lust for forbidden dust of paradiase.
Used for profit, they don't realise.


Edited by Rust - November 09 2006 at 03:20
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Direct Link To This Post Posted: November 09 2006 at 03:59
The leaf, he is a man
on trees corrupted by Adam's hand.
leafs now leaving
serving the crown. stealing
Now burned crisp
innocent killing.
Give me my gift of death,
my healing.
His silent breath
full of anger.
merciless repent.
His word
sent
spent
sold by popes to peasents.
His eternam present
Was it written?
No.
Was said.
Preached over and over agian.
The soul of man
souled in a book.
A heirachy of hypocrytic greed.
He planted it with the apple seed.
He picked it from the fobidden tree.
And sold it for a profit in blasphemy.
His proverb
His coffin
Hi cross nailed in.
A leader to popular, profiting off sin....
 


Edited by Rust - November 09 2006 at 04:04
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