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Poetry Slam.

Daikaiju

Rated Ages 6+
(He, Him)
And my thanks to you for starting it! It's a practice that helps centre me, and that's always good.

I would love to read aloud more of your dad's poems, if you're lucky enough to find any.
To Dream, Perchance to Fly 03/06/2015

[The opposite of Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide]

My spirit soars
Over the sky's
Sunlit meadows,
Released in my dreams
From the downpulling
Shadows below,
Hopscotching from
Tree tip to steeple,
Seeking the hawk road
To a fair far country
Till the brain
Gets in gear tossing
A storm anchor
Weighted with cares,
Unending frustrations;
A self-winding watch
With no stop knob.
And earthbound again,
I forget how to fly,
Till the next time.
- Gerald Alan Ney
 

Teaspoon

(They)
does everyone and their mum know Eliot? Yes.

Did I used to chant bits of this in joy? also yes

*****

The Hollow Men

Mistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy



I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.


II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom


III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.


IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.


V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.


Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.


- T. S. Eliot
 

Teaspoon

(They)
feeling like a bit of John Berryman today

*****

Dream Song 125: "Bards freezing, naked, up to the neck in water"

Bards freezing, naked, up to the neck in water,
wholly in dark, time limited, different from
initiations now:
the class in writing, clothed & dry & light,
unlimited time, till Poetry takes some,
nobody reads them though,

no trumpets, no solemn instauration, no change;
no commissions, ladies high in soulful praise
(pal) none,
costumes as usual, turtleneck sweaters, loafers,
in & among the busy Many who brays
art is if anything fun.

I say the subject was given as of old,
prescribed the technical treatment, tests really tests
were set by the masters & graded.
I say the paralyzed fear lest one's not one
is back with us forever, worsts & bests
spring for the public, faded.

- John Berryman
 

Daikaiju

Rated Ages 6+
(He, Him)
And now for a bit of levity...

facebook_1732653680544_7267276262923074186.jpg
 

Daikaiju

Rated Ages 6+
(He, Him)
Aw, I was out on vacation and the link’s broken. (Looks like it was a cdn cache url that expired.)
Here's a link to the poem

 

Falselogic

Lapsed Threadcromancer
(they/them)
Red Brocade

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

~Naomi Shihab Nye
 

Falselogic

Lapsed Threadcromancer
(they/them)
For a Student Who Used AI to Write a Paper

Now I let it fall back
in the grasses.
I hear you. I know
this life is hard now.
I know your days are precious
on this earth.
But what are you trying
to be free of?
The living? The miraculous
task of it?
Love is for the ones who love the work.

~Joseph Fasano
 

Teaspoon

(They)
Red Brocade

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

~Naomi Shihab Nye
That is so very kind.
 
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