| Author |
 Topic Search  Topic Options
|
Alitare 
Forum Senior Member
Joined: March 08 2008
Location: New York
Status: Offline
Points: 3595
|
 Posted: May 25 2011 at 20:44 |
I like doing social critique, too, but it's hard for me because I never think one aspect is worse than another. How can I attack capitalism if I don't give a damn? Sheesh, being apathetic makes it hard to be artistic, but I do got one I wrote about two years back.
Love of the State - A Stomach full:
My plate, adorned with hugs and bare Paper mache amenity Love letters wink, showing they care Investing in servility
Post-scripted "darling Dee-Ess-Ess" Each deft with grin and firm handshake A warm regard to mop the mess Then rented out for Reagan's sake
Skid Row'd been painted lavish pink Amended as gala affair Those sods were given hope to drink They drowned beneath lake St. Time's Square
Inside a cardboard silhouette Starvation runs gamut aplomb Street urchins pave by cold regret Police enforce the friendship bomb
Synchronized assorted flags that Block sight from my dust windowsill Have fed old Sam until he's fat With trails that tread through Hooverville
My brother, he adored the tax No matter while in ail or rut Who's sustenance was faith and wax Had but one crumb inside his gut
As Lincoln's tomb worships the bell And love's polluted King D.C. We've hugged and kissed our way to hell Land of the brave, home of the free
|
 |
The Dark Elf
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: February 01 2011
Location: Michigan
Status: Offline
Points: 13064
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 21:07 |
 Alitare wrote:
I like doing social critique, too, but it's hard for me because I never think one aspect is worse than another. How can I attack capitalism if I don't give a damn? Sheesh, being apathetic makes it hard to be artistic, but I do got one I wrote about two years back.
Love of the State - A Stomach full:
My plate, adorned with hugs and bare
Paper mache amenity
Love letters wink, showing they care
Investing in servility
Post-scripted "darling Dee-Ess-Ess"
Each deft with grin and firm handshake
A warm regard to mop the mess
Then rented out for Reagan's sake... |
Why you bitter, bitter man. You'd fit well with all the zealots over on the libertarian thread. 
Well, how about corporate America? That's always been a good target:
The Tale of the Accounting Sheep
© 1997 by GJM
Time clock punching, business lunching,
Number crunching budgetary lies.
You've had your fill of rumor mills
Like poison quills around the office fly.
What has become of this brilliant career?
What were the strange paths that led me here?
Four-year degrees and divorce decrees,
Over and over again...
But you shone like a diamond
In your rough and tumble way,
And the sun never set on summer days.
Back then, you never went to sleep
Because of fires burning deep,
Now insomnia has got you counting sheep --
Accounting sheep!
Parking spaces, basket cases,
Smiling faces quick to turn the knife.
Employee grumbles, corporate bungles,
Fiber-optic jungles rule your life.
When was the point that I lost my edge?
When did I find all my bets were hedged?
Surrender your will just to pay your bills,
Over and over again...
But you shone like a diamond
In your rough and tumble way,
You and the flock went separate ways.
And the world was your oyster,
Wrapped a' cloistered in its shell,
But too soon, it all goes straight to hell --
Straight to hell!
|
|
...a vigorous circular motion hitherto unknown to the people of this area, but destined
to take the place of the mud shark in your mythology...
|
|
Alitare
Forum Senior Member
Joined: March 08 2008
Location: New York
Status: Offline
Points: 3595
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 21:23 |
I don't think I have any other direct America attacks. I know I wrote a few more, but I need to hunt them down. I do have a more vague attack on America, but it's attacking other things, too.
Situation Tragedy:
Or-pha-nage fenc-es line the street The doors are cold to all they greet And mom-my's gone in grim defeat To recite her passion play While all the kid-dies spell re-pent They read the new-est test-a-ment It's in the mail, dis-guised as rent And there's no one who could pay
It's all just like what Jesus said That which is small is surely dead Unless you drown this whine with bred So the Devil takes his leave The hooker's gone in slumber, splayed This prostitute leads the parade Maternally, she's made the grade But the widows, still they grieve
For their lost son, who's off to war For-sa-ken brood-mare mush-room spore And yet they're rot-ten to the core To let children play with forks In-stead of draw-ing hop-scotch squares They're snip-ing sand-dune grizz-ly bears Sell-ing their hate, but buy-ing prayers When a prayer just ne-ver works
If not for false mor-al-i-ty The daugh-ter dock would drift to sea And all the world would simp-ly be A chill-ing-ly lone-some cage When po-lice wives have got their fill the piper, pied, comes with his bill The legend legion drops the quill To scribble out each blank page
|
|
The Dark Elf
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: February 01 2011
Location: Michigan
Status: Offline
Points: 13064
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 21:36 |
Alitare wrote:
I don't think I have any other direct America attacks. I know I wrote a few more, but I need to hunt them down. I do have a more vague attack on America, but it's attacking other things, too.
Situation Tragedy:
Or-pha-nage fenc-es line the street
The doors are cold to all they greet
And mom-my's gone in grim defeat
To recite her passion play
While all the kid-dies spell re-pent
They read the new-est test-a-ment
It's in the mail, dis-guised as rent
And there's no one who could pay...
|
I think I like this one the best so far. All you need is a chorus and it would be a very Dylanesque song, circa Bringing it all Back Home (1965).
Hmmm...here's another generic attack on various societal issues (with a bit of animosity against the Church thrown in):
Heresy © 1997 by GJM
I. In the Youth Camp...
Say your Hail Mary’s, son, now keep the faith
Heaven’s holy treasure’s certainly worth the wait
Go to church on Sundays, be an altar boy
Keep your dick in your pants, son, it’s not a toy
And when you’re feeling empty
Cos’ religion wouldn’t do
The guilt will slowly crush you
With the mind games they put you through –
Boy
We’ll push you off to school, son, now don’t be slow
Put Wonder Bread in your lunchbox to induce your growth
You’ll drift your way through passing-grade expedience
Learn civic pride through force-fed obedience
And when they’ve fully tested your regurgitated mind
Call you ‘rebellious underachiever’ if you don’t follow them blind –
Boy
II. Prime Time...
Forget you ethics, son
They won’t get you far
They’re extra baggage on the way
Go trade your ideals for a sportier car –
There’s money to be made here
There’s girls to be laid here
Don’t stop to think
For you will never get a second chance
Marry for money
As a matter of course
It’s all part of the game
Falling in love
Will lead right to divorce
And then when the babies come
Pay the ‘Friend of the Court’ some
Back to square one
With a quick kick to your sorry ass
III. Autumn Reverie...
Minutes steal the hours
Hours become the days
Days creep into lifetimes
And you’ve watched them
Drift away
How many people
Have drifted through your life
Ones that you’ve admired
Ones you wished to spite
How many turned away
Friends that were so tight
Memories return them
In the stillness of the night
IV. Revelation...
We’ll stick you in a nursing home when you get old
Neglect and disrespect you, so do what you’re told
We’ll pump you full of IVs and prescription pills
Magnify your worries so as not to cure your ills
And when you’re breathing heavy
And the vultures stand in line
Recall the heresy is there’s not yours
But you’ve just ran out of time –
Boy
Edited by The Dark Elf - May 25 2011 at 21:41
|
|
...a vigorous circular motion hitherto unknown to the people of this area, but destined
to take the place of the mud shark in your mythology...
|
|
Alitare
Forum Senior Member
Joined: March 08 2008
Location: New York
Status: Offline
Points: 3595
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 21:50 |
Nice, I especially liked the cooling minimalism of Autumn Reverie. The only other poem I've written lately of any note would be my Dune/Frank Herbert inspired social thoughts - not so much an attack as a rumination on the nature of humanity. What originally inspired me to write this? Wikipedia's page on Alice in Chain's Jar of flies. :P
Two Jars: Jar 1: The Dream
Prices slashed at market square The whole damn world could sing along Or sit and idly stare Then ponder of the outside street A-swarm with throngs of stamping feet And not a soul who's standing there Will tell you that you're wrong
No more bombs that flash and crack Your brother has both arms and legs No anxiety attacks A Christmas bonus twice a year There is no loss there is no fear The skies are never fully black And no one needs to beg
Homelessness was then a dream We gave them all three squares and all The cookies to the cream And children, oh they never cried The politicians never lied Come winter unto fall
Under olive branches boomed, Not guns or fireballs of hell But children who have bloomed They fill'd the jar with angel smile And left the world to love a-while Then came, we found, the world was doomed No room inside the well
Jar 2: The Nightmare
Dragging fathers, cold and blue They wore the crowning kingdom sleeve But soon enough were through Through landmines; both live and unreal The sons and daughters heard the peal Of cannonades by tank gun rue Yet weren't allowed to grieve
Back in town, the windows broke They hide the holes with painted grins And weeping turned to joke The dogs are even better fed And mom's got nightmares in her head No clean water in which to soak No food or love or friends
Rusted lamp-posts by the road Are decorated with the blood Of infants born too slow And who could ask for more than this? This land of broken sister piss? To see your baby boy then grow Inside a house of mud?
But god be praised for his care We're here to breathe another night If even its unfair We will survive for years to come And march to starving counter drum With broken door and matted hair We'll all turn out alright.
Two Jars: Cried the boy with glasses, red The flies inside the first test jar Are overfed and dead While empty is the stomach, true Of little fly jar number two Another year has come, he said And see, still here they are
|
|
The Dark Elf
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: February 01 2011
Location: Michigan
Status: Offline
Points: 13064
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 22:09 |
Alitare wrote:
Nice, I especially liked the cooling minimalism of Autumn Reverie.
The only other poem I've written lately of any note would be my Dune/Frank Herbert inspired social thoughts - not so much an attack as a rumination on the nature of humanity. What originally inspired me to write this? Wikipedia's page on Alice in Chain's Jar of flies. :P
Two Jars:
Jar 1: The Dream
Prices slashed at market square
The whole damn world could sing along
Or sit and idly stare
Then ponder of the outside street
A-swarm with throngs of stamping feet
And not a soul who's standing there
Will tell you that you're wrong
No more bombs that flash and crack
Your brother has both arms and legs
No anxiety attacks
A Christmas bonus twice a year
There is no loss there is no fear
The skies are never fully black
And no one needs to beg.... |
You could make an excellent song out of that. I was actually humming a tune (actually, more of a Roger Waters hiss). Nice rhyme scheme. Although I fail to see what it has to do with Dune. Unless you add a line saying "the art of kanly is still alive", or "Tell me of your home world, Usul. 
Here's an older one I found with a bit of allegory. I think I was in my Waterboys/Pogues stage at the time.
Old Wive’s Tale
© 1988 by GJM
There’s nothing like the sound of a boy who’s playing the blues
He’s got a yearning deep inside he can’t refuse
He’s go a warped fascination as a way of paying his dues
But when he gets to that place he’ll know
There’s no where he can go
And the walls crowd in
Like every time they did before
But tomorrow’s so much better
With the night sky burning red
And stars are made for wishing
But it’s better left unsaid
Like the old wive’s tales
That sent you off to bed
There was nothing I could do that would make her change here mind
She wasn’t sure what she lost or what she hoped to find
And when it was through I found out she was blind
It’s been years since her release
but she still seems Ill-at-ease
She sought perfection
But it hasn’t bought her peace
And fairy tales of virgins
Dressed in bridal white
Who put wedding cake underneath
Their pillows every night
Like the old wives’ tales
That you mother swore were right
Various and sundry people
Who like playing with your head
Prey upon your fears like monsters
Underneath the bed
I sat in the nude in the dark playing guitar
Competing with the hum of passing cars
Reflecting on the way my life has led thus far
I’ve tried to learn to live with myself
Sometimes I seem like someone else
Who made a bargain with heaven
To reduce his time in hell
Start saving all you pennies
Rise at the crack of dawn
Work your f**king life a way
Until your strength is gone
Like some old wives’ tale
That’s been finally proven wrong
Like some old wives' tale
Whose usefulness is gone
Like some old wives’ tale
That just keeps you hanging on
|
|
...a vigorous circular motion hitherto unknown to the people of this area, but destined
to take the place of the mud shark in your mythology...
|
|
Alitare
Forum Senior Member
Joined: March 08 2008
Location: New York
Status: Offline
Points: 3595
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 22:15 |
|
It's funny you should mention Roger Waters. That poem's flow was based around the Gunner's Dream from the Final Cut. What it had to do with Dune was how, when backed into a corner and put under the harshest of stresses, humankind seems to fight back with the most desperation to survive. The harder life is for us, the better we become at surviving, in general.
|
|
The Dark Elf
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: February 01 2011
Location: Michigan
Status: Offline
Points: 13064
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 22:20 |
Alitare wrote:
It's funny you should mention Roger Waters. That poem's flow was based around the Gunner's Dream from the Final Cut... |
A lot of it has do with with rhyme scheme and word patterns. The poem seemed to have Water's flow. Just like your poem entitled "Situation Tragedy" has a rhyme scheme similar to Bob Dylan's "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)".
|
|
...a vigorous circular motion hitherto unknown to the people of this area, but destined
to take the place of the mud shark in your mythology...
|
|
Alitare
Forum Senior Member
Joined: March 08 2008
Location: New York
Status: Offline
Points: 3595
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 22:27 |
The Dark Elf wrote:
Alitare wrote:
It's funny you should mention Roger Waters. That poem's flow was based around the Gunner's Dream from the Final Cut... |
A lot of it has do with with rhyme scheme and word patterns. The poem seemed to have Water's flow. Just like your poem entitled "Situation Tragedy" has a rhyme scheme similar to Bob Dylan's "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)". |
Interesting. Dammit, I mean to delve into the guy's career, I really do. I'm working my way backward, starting with Carole King, Joni Mitchell, and Joan Baez, really getting into the singer/songwriter vibe, then I plan on it.
Have you read Alan Moore's V for Vendetta? There's sheet music and lyrics for a song he composed at the beginning of the second act called 'Vicious Cabaret'. It happens to be my favorite poem of all time, when taken without the music. (second being the Raven, third being The Walrus and the Carpenter, fourth being something I forgot). But anyway, that's where I got the main inspiration for 'Situation Tragedy', which is actually a line in the song/poem.
|
|
The Dark Elf
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: February 01 2011
Location: Michigan
Status: Offline
Points: 13064
|
Posted: May 25 2011 at 22:39 |
Alitare wrote:
Interesting. Dammit, I mean to delve into the guy's career, I really do. I'm working my way backward, starting with Carole King, Joni Mitchell, and Joan Baez, really getting into the singer/songwriter vibe, then I plan on it.
Have you read Alan Moore's V for Vendetta? There's sheet music and lyrics for a song he composed at the beginning of the second act called 'Vicious Cabaret'. It happens to be my favorite poem of all time, when taken without the music. (second being the Raven, third being The Walrus and the Carpenter, fourth being something I forgot). But anyway, that's where I got the main inspiration for 'Situation Tragedy', which is actually a line in the song/poem. |
Haven't read V, but I enjoyed the movie (not the same thing, I know, but I have too many other things too read).
Cat Stevens and early James Taylor are worthwhile also. I've never been too hot on Joan Baez, she's a better interpreter than a songwriter. Joni Mitchell is a fabulous lyricist/composer and Carole King blew her wad all on one album.
|
|
...a vigorous circular motion hitherto unknown to the people of this area, but destined
to take the place of the mud shark in your mythology...
|
|
Vompatti
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: October 22 2005
Location: elsewhere
Status: Offline
Points: 67407
|
Posted: May 26 2011 at 05:03 |
|
This is actually not a poem, but a lyric for a song. It's a critique on capitalism, technology, science, materialism, war, religion, evolution, western medicine, pornography, abortion, suicide, domestic animals, small children, alcohol, freedom of speech, feminism, deconstruction, conservatism, racism and love.
I Beg to Differ (But I Can't Be Arsed to Kneel)
I
Would you believe me
if I told you
I just woke up
and I feel like vomiting,
defecating and eating
all at the same time?
This,
I believe,
because true,
is also a parable.
Like the fox,
who, unlike a hedgehog,
knows not one big thing,
but various small ones,
I do not know whether I ate too much or too little last night
or whether or not the quality of the objects I consumed
was appropriate for the purpose of nourishment
but I do know that if I am to locate myself in the small record shop nearby
where there is a sale
and obtain an Iggy Pop album for roughly five (5) euros,
I must brush my hair and get up and remove some of the torn leather from inside my right shoe
so that it wouldn't further damage the bottom of my foot
like it did yesterday
when I assumed a careless attitude towards it.
II
(instrumental)
III
Stop poking at my mail slot,
you f**king c**t.
At times like these
I too
deserve my solitude.
|
|
The Truth
Collaborator
Honorary Collaborator
Joined: April 19 2009
Location: Kansas
Status: Offline
Points: 21795
|
Posted: June 12 2011 at 16:50 |
^ Beauty, Vomps.
Flashes of cryptic lightning,
To Melanie always seem so frightening,
So she lays in my bed,
Right above my head,
She sings and laughs and sleeps,
But she's always in too deep...
As I start to play with her hair,
I realize that she's not there...
And the start of a new one:
Nightime whispers,
And my coherence fades,
Nostalgia holds me,
Behind the thickened shades,
Edited by The Truth - June 12 2011 at 16:51
|
|
|
|
EchidnasArf
Forum Senior Member
Joined: July 04 2011
Location: Austin, TX
Status: Offline
Points: 376
|
Posted: July 18 2011 at 14:15 |
|
Sorry for the new poetry thread, I guess I'm just a failure at forum searching. My thread did have a better title though...
Something I wrote down the other day:
Hard sell
Buy in
End up
face down
trading paper for things
staring at my eyes
living in a screen
Stop, start, stop
Look behind you
Don't turn your head
Flip a switch and position your antenna
and listen when I say
Tuning in to the wave that found me here
had it's advantages
but now it's stagnant
A day old spill on the floor
Moon, my new found sun
I've been hammering my head
only to reveal yet another veil
and let off some steam
So I'll call it a night and opt for a dream
I'll kick a can up the tallest tree
|
|
|
|
The Truth
Collaborator
Honorary Collaborator
Joined: April 19 2009
Location: Kansas
Status: Offline
Points: 21795
|
Posted: July 19 2011 at 08:34 |
|
That Ginsberg you posted was good, but nowhere near as good as "Auto Poesy In Nebraska".
From yours truly:
Cold hard facts
Always hit
The wrong spots,
Causing funny bones
To shiver as they
Violently twitch.
|
|
|
|
Andy Webb
Special Collaborator
Retired Admin
Joined: June 04 2010
Location: Terria
Status: Offline
Points: 13298
|
Posted: July 28 2011 at 14:51 |
As Malls Nippet
If Iw eret ot elly out hat Iw asn ota ealp erson Wouldy oub elievem e?
|
|
|
|
Guldbamsen
Special Collaborator
Retired Admin
Joined: January 22 2009
Location: Magic Theatre
Status: Offline
Points: 23104
|
Posted: July 28 2011 at 15:00 |
lost on the lake reaching for certainty in blackness a blackness like torn velvet - you reach for the oar the sandy bottom the beach but in vain - like broken children you learn about getting wet jumping into unknown waters to reach any sort of conclusion
|
|
“The Guide says there is an art to flying or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”
- Douglas Adams
|
|
The Truth
Collaborator
Honorary Collaborator
Joined: April 19 2009
Location: Kansas
Status: Offline
Points: 21795
|
Posted: July 28 2011 at 15:07 |
|
The sensation of
Unsettled dust
Makes your skin crawl,
Like a toddler
On a cheap rug.
And yet,
You're happy,
With those tiny particles
Of nostalgic memories
Creating a dusty philm,
On your smooth skin,
And going up nasal passages,
Giving illusions,
Of recreational drugs.
|
|
|
|
EchidnasArf
Forum Senior Member
Joined: July 04 2011
Location: Austin, TX
Status: Offline
Points: 376
|
Posted: July 28 2011 at 15:29 |
|
Glad to see people are still posting here. These are the lyrics to a kind of poppy song I wrote last year:
My Radiation
Where can I drag myself when this dream turns maniacal?
I run against the wind
and my fever crawls through my skin
My candy coated eyes are telescopes
digging stars out of zodiac envelopes
But have I flown into the dark cloud that follows you?
At the sight of my two hands, visions of ancestors surround me
They reach for me and weep
until delusions stop stalking my sleep
Moon beams walk the ocean floor
and the sun paints the ways electric days have left me stirred
But have the others heard my radiation from the earth?
Where can I drag myself when this dream turns maniacal?
I run against the wind
and my fever crawls through my skin
Lock myself inside my mind, only to find
someday I'm buried with a stone over my head
Send my ashes out to Saturn instead
Edited by EchidnasArf - July 28 2011 at 15:30
|
|
|
|
VanderGraafKommandöh
Prog Reviewer
Joined: July 04 2005
Location: Malaria
Status: Offline
Points: 89372
|
Posted: July 28 2011 at 18:02 |
|
So I wrote a new one. It's completely indecipherable but that's the way I like it. Ah ha ah ha.
The fornicational distatefulness of a Sophist
Drape your failure over me
then boggle my mind;
disguising it as brownies
full of hope.
Grope(ius) Walter instead
'cause Béla Lugosi's Dead
As dead as an Architect
of the March
Dead
Like your heart will be
when your sheep(ish) weeping
creeps up on you
flicking your genitalia
so haphazardly
You moan
I grow(n) up fast.
As you lay it on thickly
from somewhere
anywhere
you care about more than me
You got me good
I didn't buy Yu(hudi) a
Menu(hin) of vegetalia
Only fish
A snatch(et), a crotch(et)
Wait a minim... I
I wanted to put a
semi-naked you
in my future wife
Yet all I get is a special guest
It's you.
I never married.
Net met.
Yet I cared.
Beset in a bedspread like
tangle of angles; I'm lost
Defying Escher's tessellations
Defenestration would be nice
for 30 year olds, like me
stuck in a war
A dirty, sexual war
of flagellation by the hand-
held telephone.
Get out. Walk the dog.
Yoyo around your own place
and remain self-motivated
with foolish promises.
Pliny the Elder said it best: The best plan is to profit from the folly of others.
I am no longer a folly.
I just want my dear little Dolly.
Geck0 - 28 July 2011
Edited by James - July 28 2011 at 18:06
|
|
|
|
Vompatti
Forum Senior Member
VIP Member
Joined: October 22 2005
Location: elsewhere
Status: Offline
Points: 67407
|
Posted: September 28 2011 at 16:04 |
the Coke to wine -ratio was too high.
I failed at sleep.
|
|
/PAlogo_v2.gif "Progarchives.com Homepage")
Poetry #too.
