a wee wittle poem....

[*NADS Capt. Anarchy]

"The Kytty"

Kytty! Kytty! Run with fright!
Out the door, into the night!
What immortal hand was busy
spinning you round, making you dizzy?

What did it look like from your eyes?
the spinning, twirling, dizzying skies?
On what wings dare he aspire,
the man who made this kytty perspire?

And what shoulder, and what arm?
Caused this kytty such greivous harm?
And when your little heart began to race
Did you scratch his hand? Did you scratch his face?

What a meanie! To bring you pain!
To so confuse your tiny brain!
Did you bite he hand, at least?
Better yet, have a bloody feast?

And when he set you down at last
Did you fall over oh-so-fast?
Of course you did! I could plainly see!
For this wicked man is ME!

Kytty! Kytty! Run with fright!
Out the door, into the night!
What immortal hand was busy
Spinning you round, making you dizzy?

[(SiX)Ben]

I would applaud this now, but seeing how you showed it to me before and I laughed, giggled, hooted, simpathised... the whole 9 yards... I won't ...

Ben

[Jeb]

here is a little poem i wrote a long time ago

Reaching for my illustrious dreams,
I grab the ledge to my salvation.
As I try to pull myself upon the ledge,
I become tired as the bleak reality grabs my toe.
The sweat on my hands builds as I slide,
Further and Further from the ledge.

As I slide from my dreams,
I come to the realization.
Like a child, trying to open the cookie jar on the refrigerator,
It is not time yet.
I fall down an endless pit,
Capable of stopping at any moment but fearing the ground.

Landing on a bed, I feel safe.
The nightmare is over,
But the dream is just starting.
I?m whipped away again to a new locale,
New sights, new sounds,
Yet oddly familiar.

A parallel dimension,
Light becomes dark,
Major to minor.
An eerie semblance of what was,
Easily confused with what is,
The future it will not be.

I once again see my dreams.
They take the shape of a cat and run.
The music goes faster as the scene slows to a halt.
D?j? vu is no man?s friend.
The cat hops upon a ledge, the ledge.
I climb again.

As I reach the final ledge I remember,
I am now afraid again,
Afraid of falling.
The dreams escape and I wake up,
Losing dreams, losing hope.
A hope that my fear made into fantasy.

As I run from my dream of dreams,
I trip over obstacles.
Too afraid to rise above them,
Fearing what they mean.
Denying that I am afraid,
Unable to claim the treasure.

I see a comforting light.
As I walk near it burns me,
But the darkness behind me pushes me on.
Incapable of turning around and standing up,
I run towards the flame,
The searing pain beaten by my fear.

I stumble and fall, eyes wide shut,
I wait for my end.
As the darkness covers me,
I become cool, fear and pain gone.
As I look around, light form a path.
No longer afraid, I follow its guidance.

As I near the end of the path,
I once again see the ledge.
Fear again creeps in my heart.
The darkness smacks me across my face.
I realize now is the time,
Once again I climb.

As I return to the ledge for the third time,
I look out and see nothing is holding me back.
I pull myself onto the ledge.
My dreams meet me in the form of a lion,
And rub against my leg.
Stairs form up to the ledge,
Instead I climb on the lion and fly away,
In control of the uncontrollable.

[(SiX)Ben]

Damn jeb. Thats a nice poem... It's deep and accurate. I doubt anyone on these forums have the poetic depth as you. That just makes you all more the sexy. Do you have any other poems?!

Ben

[Jeb]

yes i do have more poems
Sasha Cohan skates just great,
if she were older it wouldn't be statitory rape,
she can do splits, and hold her legs up high
The things i'd do to her in the bedroom would made her cry,
if i could be a skater, i would count my blesins
but if i was i'd get beaten sensless
-jeb 2002

[jn.preciousroy]

No offense to Jeb, but I hate poetry.  Poetry is a faulty art.  It is theme without character.  Also, particularly with modern and postmodern poetry, it is near impossible to judge poetry.  When you break all the rules, by what standard can you judge poetry? Moreover, how can someone empathize with an image?

Any disillusioned teenage girl can be Sylvia Plath, but there is only one Faulkner, Nabokov, or Pynchon.

Not to say that there isn't good poetry, or that poets arn't talented.  T.S. Eliot is incredible.  But the art itself is bastardized.

Think of it like Monet and Jackson Pollock.  Both were visionaries.  Both, by the end of their life, were well repected.  Who is better?  The answer is Monet, clear and simple.  Why?  Because no matter how hard you try you wont be able to make anything like "Water Lillies," but with a little practice we could all dribble paint nearly as well as Pollock.  Poetry can't compare to fiction in the same way that Abstract Expressionalism can't compare to Impressionism.

For all you poetry fans, all hate mail can be sent to bmortim2@bowdoin.edu

[tasty]

pr, i disagree with your stance on poetry. modern and postmodern forms of art make the same level of artistic impact, and often involve the same depth of thought and expression that older forms of art like impressionism did. many artists can replicate similar techniques to monet. although there is a high level of technical mastery in his work, the main thing monet is known for is the new techniques he pioneered-- the same thing that pollock and other modern artists are known for. in many respects, areas of art like abstract expression are superior to impressionism because they are more involved and prompt more thought and consideration. while pollock will be discussed for years to come, monet has already been degraded to the world of greeting cards and other cheesy forms of expression.

this is why your parallel between art and poetry does not work. faulkner or browning were masters at what they did, but people trying to write poetry in their image 150 years later now look pathetic. not anyone can be sylvia plath, or any other poet. because of the originality of these artists, any similar work is comparatively without creative impact. so in my opinion, poetry is a viable form of art just like any other; it is just judged on a different set of norms.

[PsYcO aSsAsSiN]

Judging by your taste in authors Roy, you are a fan of the Modernist movement...meaning that you would probably like Jane Austen too.

If you want to opposite view to modernism, read some essays by Michael Thelwell - a Jamaican who is about as anti-Modernist as one can get.

Jeb - I thought that poem was banished  

As for the poetry, I personally hate the stuff and wouldn't bother writing it unless I was forced to.

[jn.loudnotes]

Just noticed, Capt, you edited your post just to include a title.  I think it was probably self-explanatory though.

Anyway, I suppose this thread was designed for comments on your poetry, not other people's trying to steal the limelight.  So I will say that I enjoyed it very much.

However, I agree whole-heartedly with mort, as usual.  But even bastardized art forms can be enjoyed.

[Jeb]

yeah ass,
bondo didn't notice that i reposted his poem, and my redition of another of his poems

[(SiX)Ben]

Can't believe he hasn't seen the thread yet... Heheh... BONDY!!! LOOK Up!

Ben

[Bondo]

Yeah...I was just silent in my state of being pissed off at my poem being plagarized again...

Oh, and the poem that is actually yours is a parody of this 8 year olds...not mine.

It actually works out for me to not be given credit...If I posted my poem, it probably wouldn't get all the compliments it does when you post it Jeb.  But if anyone tries to use that poem professionally, I would be so extremely pissed I would be on them before you can say intellectual property.

As for you Roy, as a poet I'd have to disagree greatly.  Poetry is just as much of an art as painting.  It isn't to be compared with novel righting though.  Poetry isn't really about story...it is about pure sybolism...pure emotion.

[*DAMN Hazard]

LoL nice poem Capt. Bondo your poem made me feel gothic and the need to hurt myself (I licked a light socket)

and after that last post about emotion in poetry, i needed a tissue.

[*NADS Capt. Anarchy]

Actually, i edited it to fix a few typo's and a couple lines i had typed in wrong.

Anyways... I'm just surprised that none of the artsy-fartsy types around here have commented on the fact that it is indeed a parody of a (fairly) famous poem. The title should give it away... but hmm.......

[Brain]

oh, i thought that the poem jeb posted was wraith's or loud's.

[Bondo]

Brain, Wrath posted it in the Black Ops, but I wrote it.  Wrath just didn't have it credited so he didn't know who wrote it (and thus naturally thought originally that he wrote it).  Bucc even backed me up on that because he for some reason was reading the figure skating forums where I posted it prior.

[Brain]

i stand corrected

[jn.preciousroy]

Look what Wrath found in the bowels of his comp?!?

"Ode to Wrath"

I need not know
your voice
your face
your name

to know that I
love you

countless nights
I lay awake
dreaming

that maybe, just maybe
I can make an
"internet buddy"
a little bit
more

ELECTRONICJO IS THE DEVIL

so
sweet wrath, my
darling wrath

be
be my
be mine
be my valentine


That one is OLD SKOOL, by all stretches of the imagination.  I think I wrote that for him during my "write cheesy love poems to those adore for the sake amusing the world with piss-poor poetry"  I wrote a few more, but that was the only one for either a male or an internet buddy.  Good times, good times.

[Jeb]

uh, if you are ever in seattle stay away from my house
or else there will be some of this going on