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Poetry & Culture Thread


longjohn

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About time we had some culture and refinement in this place. I attach for your cultural enjoyment the following ode that was forwarded to me by one of my esteemed collegues who is obviously a man of critical literary taste...

I know a man whose name is Jim

I really love throwing tomatoes at him

Tomatoes are soft and don't hurt the skin

But these fuckers do, coz they're still in the tin

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A cab combs the snake,

Tryin' to rake in that last night's fare,

And a solitary sailor

Who spends the facts of his life like small change on strangers


Paws his inside P-coat pocket for a welcome twenty-five cents,

And the last bent butt from a package of Kents,

As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes

And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair.


Tom Waits

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I cut and I slash slice and gash

Last night was a blast

I can't quite remember when I had that

Much fun of a half pint of a jack

My last Vic and a half

A flashlight up Kim Kardashian's ass

I remember the first time I dismembered a family member

December I think it was, I was havin' drinks with my cousin

I wrapped him in Christmas lights, pushed him into the stinkin' tub

Cut him up into pieces and just when I went to drink his blood

I thought I oughta drink his bath water that oughta be fun

That's when my days of serial murder manslaughter begun

The sight of blood excites me, that might be an artery son

Your blood curdling screams just don't seem to bother me none

It's 3 A.M. and here I come so you should probably run

A secret passageway around here man there's got to be one

Oh no there's probably none, he can scream all that he wants

Top of his lungs, but ain't no stoppin' me from choppin' him up... up

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We often heard the sound of your voice

And listened silently, with folded hands,

As each word sank into our souls.

We all know: The day will come

That frees us from need and compulsion.

What is a year!

What is a law that would restrain us

The pure faith that you have given us

Pulses through, guides our young lives.

My Führer, you alone are the way, the goal!

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Sitting nude in my living room, it's almost noon

I wonder what's on the tube, maybe they'll show some boobs

Surfin' every channel until I find Hannah Montana

Then I reach for the Aloe and lanolin

Bust all over the wall paneling dismantlin' every candle

On top of the fireplace mantle and

Grab my flannel and my bandana then

Kiss the naked mannequin man again

You can see him standin' in my front window if you look in

I'm just a hooligan who's used to usin' hallucinogens

Causin' illusions again

Brain contusions again

Cutting and bruisin' the skin

Razors, scissors and pins

Jesus, when does it end?

Phases, that I go through

Days that I'm so confused

Days that I don't know who

Gave, these molecules to

Me, what am I gon' do?

Hey the prodigal son

The diabolical one

Very methodical when I slaughter them

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a poem by John Donne I remember from school which I mutter when festering in bed with hangover on a nice morning.....

Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices,
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time

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