Write a poem about the person above you.

[HarryHoskins]

Go.

[Blarg]

Roses are red,
HarryHoskins is blue
because he thinks this will rhyme
but it won't.

[ajc]

His dad wanted to name him Bob,
his mom loved the name Largus --
Blarg.
Children called him Marg
and barge,
he became a poet
(showed them).


Holy bad poem, Batman!

[kborsden]

a woman – as the day’s scene
set in rendered sun, a blossom
for a moment brushed by petals,
is a moment that has never been
but seems to speak
volumes of being – as through
her stem, the fuse drives only truths.

[Blarg]

He loves the cut-ups and shuffles that some might think folly;
that's why his favorite musical's Hello Dali.

[zanzjan]

There once was a Blargy dude,
Who subtlety often eschewed.
The man wrote haiku,
Poetic and true,
And few were especially lewd.

-Suzanne

[kborsden]

He loves the cut-ups and shuffles that some might think folly;
that's why his favorite musical's Hello Dali. <-- link please!!


Some say she's a super hero
other just that she's cool -
some think quite the opposite,
but me, I have no clue.

[ajc]

he grows on you
like a fungus
but moss is soft
and can be so beautiful
in that way
that you never expected

[HarryHoskins]

ajc
A collection
of letters.

Squiggles
on a blank page
make meaning

Off page, off color but only a break meaning means what it is intended to mean.

But, ajc
such a collection
a movement
in alpha, betty.

No betabet
No first goes by a second.
No nothing more

Than 3 squiggles.

Mister ajc knows
Missus ajc knows
Mummy and Daddy knows

How you gonna know something
unless you know it.

AJC

A capital user.



I will cuddle each letter until they smile.

[Albedo of Zero]

If HarryHoskins was a name
it would fit you
better than a tight active name like
Jiu-jitsu

The Jarvises and Dylans
are too pagey
And the Micks and the Aarons
too cagey

It would be of the kind
or like scribbled line
when the letters made nice
like they used to

[Sheila Muirenn]

Human

Humanism

Human-Light Day?

Oatmeal.

[HarryHoskins]

She is she
Sheila is
She-izzle
La dizzle
The she
that is the we
that is the he
that is the me.

You see
we are the we
we are the me
we are the he
we are all she.

No way without a she or a Sheila
that any antipodeans exist.

[B.D. Eyeslie]

His finger is in all that transpires
A bright sunny day at the beach
Friends holding hands like barbed wire
Tips on water safety he should teach.

[Bartholomew]

Ole B. D.'s a miracle worker,
not a doctor, damn it.
Ever seen him juggle
two poems, a story, and a child?
Beam the man a scotch.

[captain_ryan]

An aardvark, you say?
Could it write itself a world
in which it were man?

[HarryHoskins]

How
can I save a private
when he's been promoted.

Further
to this
the man wears a mask.

A masked man
does not want to be found
out.

I been looking
all over this theatre
for rye

an

I only found this box to doff my cap in.

I guess the bear did wander.

[Sheila Muirenn]

Harry Hoskins

wanders.

Until fields,

stop

[LizaJane]

I once banned a woman named Sheila Muirenn
But that darned ol' woman came back again :D

[Blarg]

LizaJane used to play folk songs off the back of an old truck
when she was too young to give a *
Now she's cleaned up well enough to make a buck
and a different set of boys feels out of luck.

(N.B.: I have no idea who this person is, just kidding around.)

[HarryHoskins]

Blarg got his name
from a bottle drunk
and knows about after

effects.

He'd paid pretty pennies
for those body guards
to seize him and seize his assets.

A valuable man
should always be seized
he heard that once so

they say.

A contraband man
A man counter-cultured
A man who is less groan than grown.

I figured he knew
from all his smart vocal
about constructing constructed constructs.

A biological turn
In a play where the
actress is a dish; worth shaking.

And where'd this fear come from?
This petrified rockform?
This tube with a view?

This man who could do so much more.

Solid is blarg
split on the pavement
an idea in a perfect form.

A delta of things
afraid of those rings
not tones dear but those golden ones.

The sun may well rise
On a son so despised

but in the end

the night covers us all.

[LizaJane]

^He ain't right, it's often been said
Got somethin' strange goin' on in his head
might be continued ...

[HarryHoskins]

LizaJane with the penchant for unfinished projects

waits ...

until the right vista comes into view.

She rides a railroad without tracks
A girl rumbles on into landscape
and there ain't no
better place than that.

Out there, amongst the red dirt of the land
Voices spring from earth
She listens
When even the land has gone to sleep
She waits
up all night
For her to come.

And if she don't -
Say she's too busy,
Or say - just maybe - she's having too much fun
Then the waiting was worth it
And the sleep then can come.

She travels to a spun world of music
the hum of wheels speak enough
the hardly tuned radio
picks up songs from the past
And everything sings, sometimes.

The weather she travels
cuts lines on her face
and each band of pressure
works its way
deep beneath nails
Singing.

She rides through the world watching
sunsets eyes on fast moving horizons
mists forming, drifting
seeing clouds teach from a classroom sky
then rain themselves out.

In heavy heart beats on the roof of her car.

In delicate sheets that slow down to touch her.

[Perscribo]

Fozzy Harry was a bear.
Fozzy Harry drank his share.
Fozzy Harry isn't fuzzy. Waka!

[kborsden]

Perscribo on receipt
as scripted for the scribe
is scribbled on a page,
repeated by prescript
for poetic placebo.

[HarryHoskins]

Here lies one man
both of whom
are dead.

Not burned
(though fantasy ignites)
but burnt and not real-light
(adult whimpers don't spark).

Kborsden
scorched by the touch
of blue paper souls.

Here lies the man
both of whom
are dead

One lies one side
scene never green
The other
lies
wordless, brown, formless
a mystery; things unsaid
passing to his partner
remains of conversation dead.

And they crawl in
and they crawl out.

The dirge rings out!
Curves of bells
Undulate
Upwards!
To reach the top
Downwards!
Laughter at beating life
At the bottom one can top oneself.

Those bells cast in youth
Remember
Nora Batty belfrys
tights too wrinkled to do your biddy[ing]

You sit and listen
Cicada towers
Bishop Love buzzing up
Bishop hate buzzes down
An neither one a flying none [Sibilance]

Sibyls and Sybil fight
Kborsden
Laughs at the latters
Professional arsehole sight
Looks for good teeth in the former
Professional gift horse slight.

Glasses thick with gravity
Stately home windows
yearly descend
only the curators notice
this worrying trend.

World changing spectacles
peek from the side
life out of focus
impressionistic
mimic
a life not led.

And they crawl in
are chewed
and are shat out.

Rain, heavy and wet
collects
muck
and sails it grandly to the gutter.

One day
One will be
a somebody
and not
a Smith
of Gross words
and diary entries
that only lovers read.

There is warmth in the compost
There is food
There is life
even if there is no light.

[HarryHoskins]

You jacket, you
Yellow, sun.
You hairstyle
Turned about before going out.
You nothing no good bastard
You fucking moss
Likened to stone and living
You Wonder video camera
You double cassette tape Glennie
You nowhere no doubt now now now
What dumb fucks do cuddle in the dark
I fear you read too much
Green.

Some people

[Blarg]

There are souls to whom
never will be done justice;
they languish

astride good intent,
flayed hearts bent
toward capturing essence

scraped from
husks of vision
and an imprecision

of acceptance that
the clearest vision
cannot resolve:

the clear cold marble
of how
stone devolves.