the meter might work better if you subsituted "clowns" for "two guys". Jussayinunemployable wrote: ↑Fri Oct 23, 2020 4:46 pmTwo hundred forty
Years of USA progress
Give us THESE two guys?
(Bad) ERE Poetry
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Reduce the need to produce
Thousands of years
Measured in repayment of a borrowed pig
Be comfortable for now
With three percent
Thousands of years
Measured in repayment of a borrowed pig
Be comfortable for now
With three percent
-
- Posts: 1742
- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Black oil
That forbidden fruit
Upon it the great mythology was built
A foundation with fissures
Growing wider by the day
As we get fatter and more comfortable
We are heated and cooled
We are satiated and entertained, and distracted
And sick
But technology will make us well; international cooperation
Sustainable(tm) and organic(tm) and natural(tm) and green(tm)
Prolicide
That forbidden fruit
Upon it the great mythology was built
A foundation with fissures
Growing wider by the day
As we get fatter and more comfortable
We are heated and cooled
We are satiated and entertained, and distracted
And sick
But technology will make us well; international cooperation
Sustainable(tm) and organic(tm) and natural(tm) and green(tm)
Prolicide
-
- Posts: 1742
- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Now, when I go to the bathroom at work:
I first mask up,
Because my breathing could kill others;
I must remember a 4-digit code to unlock the bathroom door,
To exclude those sleeping on the streets outside.
But all is well--this too shall pass and the myth shall continue evermore.
I first mask up,
Because my breathing could kill others;
I must remember a 4-digit code to unlock the bathroom door,
To exclude those sleeping on the streets outside.
But all is well--this too shall pass and the myth shall continue evermore.
-
- Posts: 1742
- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Convenience over community
From the corner grocer and the neighborhood public house
To drive-thrus, and strip malls, and mega malls, and Big Box
Parasites all
Provisioners for the cocooned sheetrock palaces
Enter Amazon and ghost kitchens, to tear it all down
Leaving an apocalyptic asteroid belt in their wake
(Inspired by my morning podcast listen: http://upzoned.strongtowns.org/e/this-1 ... -collapse/)
From the corner grocer and the neighborhood public house
To drive-thrus, and strip malls, and mega malls, and Big Box
Parasites all
Provisioners for the cocooned sheetrock palaces
Enter Amazon and ghost kitchens, to tear it all down
Leaving an apocalyptic asteroid belt in their wake
(Inspired by my morning podcast listen: http://upzoned.strongtowns.org/e/this-1 ... -collapse/)
-
- Posts: 294
- Joined: Tue Apr 09, 2019 4:17 pm
- Location: England
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
freeform poetry cause that's just how I roll
---
some say
I am cheap
and I agree with them
but I'm having more fun this way.
shame I have somehow
become
practically unemployable.
---
some say
I am cheap
and I agree with them
but I'm having more fun this way.
shame I have somehow
become
practically unemployable.
- unemployable
- Posts: 1007
- Joined: Mon Jan 08, 2018 11:36 am
- Location: Homeless
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
If only you had
Made that word your username
Before I took it.
Made that word your username
Before I took it.
-
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- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
The Prophet Billy Strings
Watch It Fall
Well, it's not so easy now
Though it never was back then
We still can't seem to work this out
But you can still pretend
And these tattered walls and burning bridges
Quickly start to fall
How long until there's nothing left at all?
I've been to California, man
I've seen them city lights
Been stranded in the desert
Scorching days and freezing nights
And I'll never understand
Why people try to walk so tall
How long until there's nothing left at all?
Don't you love what you got used to?
When we used to feel so free
Won't you wait a while in silence, love
Watch it fall with me
Well, the old men said the great Big Apple's
Rotten to the core
With Wall Street skimming from the till
While no one minds the store
And how could someone get so low
In a building so damn tall?
How long until there's nothing left at all?
While chunks the size of Delaware
Are falling off the poles
Our heads are buried in the sand
Our leaders dug the hole
Like junkies hooked on fossil fuel
Headin' for withdrawal
How long until there's nothing left at all?
Don't you love what you got used to?
When we used to feel so free
Come and wait a while in silence, love
And watch it fall with me
Now the answers in our heads
To the questions that were asked
It boils up from underground
And leads us to the past
To a place that's long forgotten
When we had enough for all
How long until there's nothing left at all?
Don't you love what you got used to?
When we try to make our stand
The hourglass is growing empty now
Just to leave a pile of sand (watch it fall)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y97gX9QSwZk
Watch It Fall
Well, it's not so easy now
Though it never was back then
We still can't seem to work this out
But you can still pretend
And these tattered walls and burning bridges
Quickly start to fall
How long until there's nothing left at all?
I've been to California, man
I've seen them city lights
Been stranded in the desert
Scorching days and freezing nights
And I'll never understand
Why people try to walk so tall
How long until there's nothing left at all?
Don't you love what you got used to?
When we used to feel so free
Won't you wait a while in silence, love
Watch it fall with me
Well, the old men said the great Big Apple's
Rotten to the core
With Wall Street skimming from the till
While no one minds the store
And how could someone get so low
In a building so damn tall?
How long until there's nothing left at all?
While chunks the size of Delaware
Are falling off the poles
Our heads are buried in the sand
Our leaders dug the hole
Like junkies hooked on fossil fuel
Headin' for withdrawal
How long until there's nothing left at all?
Don't you love what you got used to?
When we used to feel so free
Come and wait a while in silence, love
And watch it fall with me
Now the answers in our heads
To the questions that were asked
It boils up from underground
And leads us to the past
To a place that's long forgotten
When we had enough for all
How long until there's nothing left at all?
Don't you love what you got used to?
When we try to make our stand
The hourglass is growing empty now
Just to leave a pile of sand (watch it fall)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y97gX9QSwZk
-
- Posts: 1742
- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
If I just had [___];
Well, then I'd be satisfied.
Ooh, wait, what is that?!?!
Well, then I'd be satisfied.
Ooh, wait, what is that?!?!
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Non INTJ
Reading all these forum posts
My brain is breaking
Reading all these forum posts
My brain is breaking
-
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- Joined: Fri Mar 13, 2020 12:54 am
-
- Posts: 1742
- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Patagonia’s Black Friday poem:
We’re all screwed
So don’t tell us that
We can imagine a healthy future
Because the reality is
It’s too late to fix the climate crisis
And we don’t trust anyone who says
We need to demand a livable planet
Because we don’t have a choice
(Now read this bottom up)
We’re all screwed
So don’t tell us that
We can imagine a healthy future
Because the reality is
It’s too late to fix the climate crisis
And we don’t trust anyone who says
We need to demand a livable planet
Because we don’t have a choice
(Now read this bottom up)
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
no SAD
not sad
don't sit
not sad
don't sit
- Alphaville
- Posts: 3611
- Joined: Thu Oct 03, 2019 10:50 am
- Location: Quarantined
-
- Posts: 1742
- Joined: Tue Jul 17, 2018 3:42 am
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Well, not (Bad) at all; Kipling's If:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Supple..
This morning-silence
with relentless snowing
makes me contemplate
but also active
wife on the go
furniture aside
loud music:
Paolo Conte
I do pilatus
on the rubber mat
to strengthen my
back and belly
I bent like a
paperclip
do my yoga-squats
sling my kettle-bells…
what a joy to grow old
with suppleness
This morning-silence
with relentless snowing
makes me contemplate
but also active
wife on the go
furniture aside
loud music:
Paolo Conte
I do pilatus
on the rubber mat
to strengthen my
back and belly
I bent like a
paperclip
do my yoga-squats
sling my kettle-bells…
what a joy to grow old
with suppleness
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
I can never decline an invitation to write terrible poetry! Quickly posting before I can change my mind and stuff it back into my drawer
Stranger in a strange land
There’s a stranger in this crowd
Who appears like all the others, till he says
Let’s go elsewhere, this place is far too loud
So you follow, past the stores and to the public park
But your time is running short, you tell him you’ll part ways
Because ignoring the insects assaulting you is something you’ve never tried
You’ve brought no book, your library ID’s expired
And all this is very strange.
But you keep on watching, treeshade and birdsong welcome your stranger like a friend
And you sense he’s home, yet you’re lost inside a loud and lonely crowd
His words echo: This is a beginning, not an end.
You’ve heard enough, your lunch break’s over, you’ll do overtime to make it up.
This was kinda nice, your manager won’t care,
You’re in too much stress to contemplate that you are feeling stuck.
You gotta pay your share.
It’s what everyone does.
And if you hadn’t met this stranger in a crowd
You wouldn't be feeling this nagging sense of loss
After all, your house and boat are stuff of which you can be proud!
If only this place were not so loud…
You hold your course, you keep your aim
Every now and then, you ask in vain
What is my stranger doing now?
What is it that he knows but doesn’t show?
Time goes on, and the wisdom of the years informs you of the stranger’s gain.
It was time, time all along
And a place where he belongs.
So where is this stranger now?
Little do I know!
All I know is that it’s hard to be a stranger in a strange land
Surrounded by the looming edifices built by human hand.
Being normal is the only thing that’s harder still.
Don’t you agree? I’m sure you will.
Stranger in a strange land
There’s a stranger in this crowd
Who appears like all the others, till he says
Let’s go elsewhere, this place is far too loud
So you follow, past the stores and to the public park
But your time is running short, you tell him you’ll part ways
Because ignoring the insects assaulting you is something you’ve never tried
You’ve brought no book, your library ID’s expired
And all this is very strange.
But you keep on watching, treeshade and birdsong welcome your stranger like a friend
And you sense he’s home, yet you’re lost inside a loud and lonely crowd
His words echo: This is a beginning, not an end.
You’ve heard enough, your lunch break’s over, you’ll do overtime to make it up.
This was kinda nice, your manager won’t care,
You’re in too much stress to contemplate that you are feeling stuck.
You gotta pay your share.
It’s what everyone does.
And if you hadn’t met this stranger in a crowd
You wouldn't be feeling this nagging sense of loss
After all, your house and boat are stuff of which you can be proud!
If only this place were not so loud…
You hold your course, you keep your aim
Every now and then, you ask in vain
What is my stranger doing now?
What is it that he knows but doesn’t show?
Time goes on, and the wisdom of the years informs you of the stranger’s gain.
It was time, time all along
And a place where he belongs.
So where is this stranger now?
Little do I know!
All I know is that it’s hard to be a stranger in a strange land
Surrounded by the looming edifices built by human hand.
Being normal is the only thing that’s harder still.
Don’t you agree? I’m sure you will.
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
It's hard to set goal
When only washing my ball
With snow makes me growl
When only washing my ball
With snow makes me growl
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
stocks I have
flows I get
why is my understanding of WL7
still so bad
flows I get
why is my understanding of WL7
still so bad
Re: (Bad) ERE Poetry
Haven’t quit yet, but I wrote a bad poem about it a few weeks ago.
Please lend me your ear
for I've left my career
in the wasteland of the great basin
The freedom desired
has sped me towards FIRE
with consumption controlled to hasten
And to my delight
the future's feeling bright
but what will come next I don't yet know
It could be travel
or long hikes on gravel
or vagabonding with a banjo
Whatever is next
it is sure to perplex
those familiar as well as friendly
Alas i must go
i can't help but bestow
a counter standard to the spendy
Please lend me your ear
for I've left my career
in the wasteland of the great basin
The freedom desired
has sped me towards FIRE
with consumption controlled to hasten
And to my delight
the future's feeling bright
but what will come next I don't yet know
It could be travel
or long hikes on gravel
or vagabonding with a banjo
Whatever is next
it is sure to perplex
those familiar as well as friendly
Alas i must go
i can't help but bestow
a counter standard to the spendy