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 Post Posted: Fri Jul 20, 2007 8:11 am 
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Senior Looney

Joined: Wed Jun 21, 2006 1:07 pm
Posts: 211
Location: Berlin
no irony in use
may produce a confuse
news to gain
and news to lose
which of prospects
is the perfect
that's to chose
hold it, hold it
and don't lose

a quack poem of someone lost in diffuse waves of nocturnal emotions
throughout of all elements
a mixture or rather an elixier to be taken when you have a cold :roll:


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 Post Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2007 9:22 am 
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Paranoid Android
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Posts: 3369
Location: Off with his head, man, off with his head...
Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse

They f**k you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were f**ked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

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 Post Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2007 5:15 pm 
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Major Looney
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Joined: Tue May 22, 2007 4:20 am
Posts: 504
Location: Hell is where the heart is
Mad Girl's Love Song

By Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

_________________
... I reached for your hand again
In the dark
Your hand was the light
But my hand sank through
And I whispered your name
in silence
Come back
Be mine ...


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 Post Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2007 6:15 am 
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Amazing Looney
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Joined: Mon Nov 21, 2005 4:25 am
Posts: 2369
Location: Aussie
Jinx wrote:
Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse

They f**k you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were f**ked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.


I like this one.

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If everything gets too much for you, and you feel the whole world is against you, go and stand on your head. If you can think of anything crazier to do, do it.

-- Harpo Marx


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 Post subject:
 Post Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2007 8:07 am 
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Paranoid Android
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Posts: 3369
Location: Off with his head, man, off with his head...
it's a great poem, even though I don't entirely agree with it.

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 Post subject:
 Post Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2007 5:49 pm 
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Posts: 3369
Location: Off with his head, man, off with his head...
White is the arian race
silence
the white cells
frost
snow
the doctor's white blouses
sheets drapped over the dead
heroin.
All these, a bit quickly
for the rehabilitation of the black colour.

By Katerina Gogou

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 Post subject:
 Post Posted: Wed Aug 01, 2007 4:12 pm 
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Paranoid Android
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Joined: Mon Apr 02, 2007 10:41 am
Posts: 3369
Location: Off with his head, man, off with his head...
"Long was the road that led us here. Too long, my brother.
Handcuffs made our hands heavy. The nights that the little light bulp shaked it's head saying 'It's grown late'
we read the history of the world in first names
in some timelines sculptured by the nail on prison walls
in some childish sketches of the soon-to-die
-a heart, an arrow, a boat that sliced through time with certainty,
in some lyrics left undone so that we can finish them
in some lyrics that were left undone so we wouldn't be finished.


Long was the road that led here-difficult road
Now this road is yours. You're holding it
like you're holding your friend's hand and measure his pulse
on this mark left by the handcuffs.
Regular pulse. Steady hand.
Regular pulse. Steady road.

Yannis Ritsos

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 Post Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 11:51 am 
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Major Looney
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Joined: Tue May 22, 2007 4:20 am
Posts: 504
Location: Hell is where the heart is
If You Forget Me

(Pablo Neruda)


I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

_________________
... I reached for your hand again
In the dark
Your hand was the light
But my hand sank through
And I whispered your name
in silence
Come back
Be mine ...


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 Post Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 12:10 pm 
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Major Looney
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Joined: Tue May 22, 2007 4:20 am
Posts: 504
Location: Hell is where the heart is
My Three Brothers (Tri moja brata)

(Josip Pupačić)

When I was my three brothers and I,
when I was
all four of us.
I had the voice of the wind,
cliffs for hands,
heart
like a forge.
Lakes took pictures of me.
Poplar trees
uplifted me.
River washed my face for her own.
Washerwomen fished
for my image.

When I was
my three brothers
and I,
when I was
all four of us.
Meadows cared for me.
Carried my voice
cutting with it through streams.
I rejoiced in myself.
I had brothers.
(I had an upright walk.)
I had my three brothers:
my brother, my brother, and my brother.

_________________
... I reached for your hand again
In the dark
Your hand was the light
But my hand sank through
And I whispered your name
in silence
Come back
Be mine ...


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 Post subject:
 Post Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 7:47 pm 
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Paranoid Android
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Joined: Mon Apr 02, 2007 10:41 am
Posts: 3369
Location: Off with his head, man, off with his head...
Ithaca
As you set out for Ithaca
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - don't be afraid of them:
you' ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon - you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind -
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.


K.Kavafis

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 Post Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 5:33 am 
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Major Looney
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Joined: Tue May 22, 2007 4:20 am
Posts: 504
Location: Hell is where the heart is
Phenomenal Woman

(Maya Angelou)

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

_________________
... I reached for your hand again
In the dark
Your hand was the light
But my hand sank through
And I whispered your name
in silence
Come back
Be mine ...


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 Post Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 10:53 am 
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Paranoid Android
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Joined: Mon Apr 02, 2007 10:41 am
Posts: 3369
Location: Off with his head, man, off with his head...
What I fear most
is becoming "a poet"...
Locking myself in the room
gazing at the sea
and forgetting...
I fear that the stitches over my veins might heal
and, instead of having blur memories about TV news,
I take to scribbling papers and selling "my views"...
I fear that those who stepped over us might accept me
so that they can use me.
I fear that my screams might become a murmur
so that to serve putting my people to sleep.
I fear that I might learn to use meter and rhythm
and thus I will be trapped within them
longing for my verses to become popular songs.
I fear that I might buy binoculars in order to bring closer
the sabotage actions in which I won't be participating.
I fear getting tired - an easy prey for priests and academics -
and so turn into a "sissy"...
They have their ways ...
They can utilize the routine in which you get used to,
they have turned us into dogs:
they see to us being ashamed for not working...
they see to us being proud for being unemployed...
That's how it is.
Keen psychiatrists and lousy policemen
are waiting for us in the corner.
Marx...
I am afraid of him...
My mind walks past him as well...
Those bastards...they are to blame...
I cannot -f**k it- even finish this writing...
Maybe...eh?...maybe some other day...


Katerina Gogou

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