The Conservative Cave
Current Events => The DUmpster => Topic started by: Karin on April 08, 2010, 12:35:15 PM
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DUmp link (http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=105x9324120)
CaliforniaPeggy (1000+ posts) Wed Apr-07-10 04:56 PM
Original message
A new poem: At The Beach
I was down at the beach today
the waves were kicked up by the
wind
choppy water bronzed by the
sun
storm’s comin’ in
it isn’t often I can smell the waves
but today I surely did
the wonderful briny taste
that the wind creates
as it blows over the
ocean’s skin
this must be how it used to
be
long before we conquered these shores
long before we polluted these waves
with our oil
and our trash
I stood and savored it a moment
stood with a smile on my face
breathing it in so deeply
feeling it make my heart
race
then my errand pulled me away
pulled me away from the shore
pulled me away from the waves so bronze
and the smell of the water it bore
pulled me back to this world we’ve made
down at the fragrant shore
I went my way and forgot that scent
that the water had made
Still knowing it was a gift to me
from the shore and the beach and
the waves
© 2010 MLC
Insipid as always, of course. At least it's not erotica so we don't have to battle nausea.
She savors and smiles about oil- and trash-polluted waves?
Also, when are waves ever bronze? Sun makes skin bronze, not water.
Please note that in the 5th stanza, she attempt finally to rhyme. She rhymes shore, with bore, with shore.
The DUmp is so boring today, I was reduced to this.
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The ocean has skin?
Would that be the oil?
Since more oil seeps into the ocean naturally than from oil spills.
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A tribute poem in Pegform:
A new poem: All Over The Beach
I was down, down, down, down, down
at
the
beach today
the waves were kicked cruelly
probably by that bastard Rove
and his evil weather machine
wind
licked me all over
he wants me
you know
it isn’t often I can smell the waves
but good drugs can
have
that effect
they tasted purple
the wind
blows
like my poems
this must be how it would
be
long after Obama gets us nuked
long before civilization recovers
with our
oil
and
our trash
I stood and savored it a moment
now it tasted furry
breathing it in
at least
I did remember to breathe
this time
unlike that other time
with the red
lights going
blink blink blink blink
then I forgot what I was doing there
anyway
so I left
nobody there
I could bore
so I came here to DU
like an attention whore
I went my way and forgot that scent
other days
other drugs
a new planet
everyday for me
is it time to wave
bye bye
yet?
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**applause**
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CaliforniaPeggy
Still knowing it was a gift to me
from the shore and the beach and
the waves
If the ocean really wants to give us all a gift it'll drag you into the undertow and spit you out in North Korea.
.
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As usual, CPig, that turd sank all the way to the bottom of the pool.
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Outstanding, DAT!!! Funny as hell.
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I like
vanilla
it tastes like
something
that it shouldn't
or some random
sexual
reference
I threw in to make
lameass poetry
hot
What doesn't taste like
vanilla is
bronze, salty
water
i think i may have mistaken
used fryer grease
at a fish
joint
for the ocean
i bob for fish sticks
sizzle sizzle sizzle sizzle
it hurts
like the first time
i bobbed for fish sticks
ouch.
© 2010 M
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Time for me to pull out my poetic response to Calpig's "poetry:"
That sucked.
More than Monica did Bill.
I think I just upchucked.
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I nearly posted it last night, but it just seemed like the most uninspiring wad of words she's posted in a long, long time.
Such strength
The masculine facade
Sharp flashing eyes
Tender fingers and tongue
The man dominates me.
His body, his mind
Overcome me.
After having read that, this silly wordpile about oily trash just doesn't get it done. It hasn't even a single reference to licking, which I think is a first for the CalPig. You may have noticed that the CalPig is really big on being licked. In fact, CalPig "poetry" depends as much on licking as a good bouncy depends on approving bystanders.
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Her poetry does merit a good licking, but the kind they give to graffiti 'Artists' in Malaysia, not the kind she fantasizes about.
:evillaugh:
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I was free.
I had learned to take off
the helmet that contricted me
Oh thy window
I can now lick thee
Oh my short bus
on my way to pub-lick skool
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Time for me to pull out my poetic response to Calpig's "poetry:"
That sucked.
More than Monica did Bill.
I think I just upchucked.
:lmao:
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:lmao:
Yep! We have a winnah!!!!!!!!!
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If you guys don't stop talking about licking and calpig in the same thread, I'm gonna rip my own tongue out and hang it in a smoke house.
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Gene, Gene, made a machine
And Jo-Jo made it go
Art, Art, lit a fart
And blew the whole damn thing apart
Zed
--Police Academy IV
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Yep! We have a winnah!!!!!!!!!
Thank you, thank you. Don't forget to tip the veal and try your waitress.
Second time I've used it so far. Like TLB's critique of Calpig, I plan on pulling it out every time she lays a steamer.
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me
my life
a
turd
polish it
not
me
digestive gas
wafting - killing fish far away
I savored the medium rare steak-like aroma
the red tide begins a-new
the Dump elevates my androgynous being to stardom
© 2010 MLC
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Reading the CalPeg's stuff reminded me of something from childhood.
Waaayyyy back when I was about 12 years old I had an English teacher that gave us a list of topics. We were told to pick a topic and write either an essay or a poem about the topic. Since a poem seemed to entail less writing I decided on poem. Since I was a smart-a$$ I picked Odor Eaters as the topic.
So in honor of the DUmp's poet laureate, for the first time anywhere since the late 1970s I present to you 12 year old ChuckJ's very first entry into the world of poetry.
ODOR EATERS
Sometimes when I take off my shoes
my friends get the stopped-up-nose blues.
Spring, Summer, Winter, or Fall,
They all ask how I have such gall.
Footjam!, Footjam! They all cry.
My stinking shoes could kill a fly.
Even though I do have new shoes
to all my friends they're very bad news.
But now my friends are not so mean.
Odor Eaters make my feet smell clean.
Of course they slide into each show.
I think that you should try them too.
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I stole this from a song that was popular in the 1940's and my parents could sing every word.
First Stanza----
I didn't know the gun was loaded
and I'm so, so sorry my friend.
I didn't know the gun was loaded
And I'll never ever do that again.
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This work of poetic art's dedicated to the sparkling husband primitive:
Emmmmph.
Ummmmph.
Uh uh uh.
Out, damned turd.
The sparkling husband was heard.
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This work of poetic art's dedicated to the sparkling husband primitive:
Emmmmph.
Ummmmph.
Uh uh uh.
Out, damned turd.
The sparkling husband was heard.
:rotf: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao: :lmao: :rotf: :lmao:
:clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:
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This work of poetic art's dedicated to the sparkling husband primitive:
Emmmmph.
Ummmmph.
Uh uh uh.
Out, damned turd.
The sparkling husband was heard.
Darn but I bet you are an affectionardo of the Beat Generation Frank. Thank heavens I was too young to go to coffee shops and zone out on all their drivel.
However I was old enough to to go to San Fransisco to hear the Doors sing their poetry and Rod MC Quiens poetry put to music by Glen Yarbrow of the Lime Lighters.
Now about Neal Diamond and his music--[ poetery ] for the non hearing, how can one agnore his Brother Loves traveling salvation show ????
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This work of poetic art's dedicated to the sparkling husband primitive:
Emmmmph.
Ummmmph.
Uh uh uh.
Out, damned turd.
The sparkling husband was heard.
He's not called Stinky the clown for nuttin'!
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This work of poetic art's dedicated to the sparkling husband primitive:
Emmmmph.
Ummmmph.
Uh uh uh.
Out, damned turd.
The sparkling husband was heard.
this made my night :-)