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POET BARF
Poetry and dialogue from the Poet Barf room
on the Swagland BBS.

   95Jul05 11:25 pm from Zeylan
Post some spontaneous poetry here, just because. 

   95Jul06 2:02 am from Norbus
 Night birds mock. 
  Reality perpetuated in black. 
 It squelches.  Mutated surrealism. 
  Snickering shadows. 
 Experienced Laughing. 
  I've come home again. 

   95Jul06 8:06 am from Zeylan
Very nice.  More? 

   95Jul06 9:14 am from Dark Doctor X
 Look on the bright side, suicide 
 Lost eyesight, I'm on your side 

   95Jul06 10:52 am from Zeylan
I'm looking for _original_ poetry, not Nirvana lyrics. 

   95Jul06 11:36 am from Stranger
You shoulda specified... *:-o 

   95Jul06 1:50 pm from Amarantheus
A Haiku. 
 
  Zeylan I think 
  this poetry just sucks. 
  get a life, dude, ok? 

   95Jul06 2:08 pm from Psyche
 VOmit splashes from 
 your reptilian tongue 
 zeylan licks it up 

   95Jul06 2:47 pm from MONZI
As mangles of perpitrated pig skin roam the earth constantly awaiting the next 
soul to suck and breath and feel o' like the universe making people inhale 
themselves into an oblivion. 

   95Jul06 6:00 pm from Zeylan
A haiku for Amarantheus and Psyche. 
 
 Both of you bitches 
 can bite me so very hard 
 in the crotch region. 

   95Jul06 6:35 pm from Swagman
Nip me softly in the silent flesh 
 of the hallow hollow above my walk 
 Tear my heart from the shrouded tomb  
 of my one less rib-cage where I've  
 made my gift in lieu of my soul 
 which wasn't enough in the long run 
 I'll respect you in the morning 
 when the wetness bakes dry, sunlit and harsh 
 crow and buzzard wait their turn 
 after you toss aside my spent carcass 

   95Jul06 11:17 pm from Zeylan
Did you write that?  I hope so, it's good.  Please only post original stuff in 
here.  Swag, can you turn on the archiving for this room, please? 

   95Jul06 11:53 pm from Mr Pube
 Sometimes I drink my urine 
 Sometimes I eat my feces 
 It's nice to know that 
 I always have a choice. 

   95Jul07 12:42 am from Mordrak
 i barf and i sneeze for your benefit.  i latch onto your face with the sticky 
tentacles of my mucus.  it encases your greasy ugly face and i can only 
laugh.  laugh at your stupid grin and satisfaction from feeling my nose blown 
into your eye.  and sometimes i wonder why people tell me to shut up. 

   95Jul07 12:53 am from Zeylan
Bravo. 

   95Jul07 2:08 am from Nigel
This 
  s a peom 
   ay  it 
 ake fuck I messed up. 

   95Jul07 2:08 am from Nigel
Brilliant, huh? 

   95Jul07 10:33 am from Yacub
  My mouth 
  My hand 
  A fishook 
  
         whee 

   95Jul07 12:44 pm from Stranger
Haikus are tough.  Lemme see... 
 
Oh dear, just the beginning, 
   And already I am running out of syllab... 

   95Jul07 6:20 pm from Swagman
Yep, first draught original on the fly extemporaneous and everything mine... 

   95Jul07 6:22 pm from Swagman
Archiving in place, sir. 

   95Jul07 11:08 pm from Nigel
.ris 

   95Jul08 12:55 am from Mordrak
 running through the fields of psychadelic sun, 
 through the stalks of grass we blindly run. 
 in the center of all that we are and am, 
 sits a half digested block of year old spam. 
 the only thing we can really think of then, 
 is how we've had the runs since we ate at ten. 
 stuck in the middle of overwhelming beauty, 
 all we want is some toilet paper for our dookie. 
 where's the kaopectate and a public john, 
 if we can't find one we'll defecate on the lawn. 
 these are the joys that we run into in life, 
 monstrous bowel movements during the dark night. 
 the god awful smell of the poop from your ass, 
 as it runs out your bung like water from a glass. 
 so take it from me as i sit on my porcelain throne, 
 don't eat bad spam or you scream ass stretching moans.... 
 
                                               12:58pm 7-8-95 
                                                howard tang 

   95Jul08 1:38 am from Norbus
It's what astronauts read. 

   95Jul08 9:21 am from Swagman
Howie, that was disgustingly delightful... 

   95Jul08 11:57 am from Zeylan
Encore.  I'm holding up a lighter. 

   95Jul08 1:15 pm from Formula 409
Look at that.  Zeylan's doing a one-man wave. 

   95Jul08 8:12 pm from Math Blaster
                thing 
          weird 
        a 
     is 
 This 

   95Jul08 10:24 pm from Mordrak
heh, i had sudden inspiration last night from a conversation with my friend 
about shit and spam... =) 

   95Jul09 9:23 am from Swagman
read New  
 
   95Mar24 5:14 pm from Norbus Yep... your children's.  
 
   95Mar25 11:54 am from Little Rascal 
                  Milky way Universe  
                         VS.  
                  Coffee Creamer Universe  
    
                        Conbined  
 
 
                  The chocolate on the milky way  
                  bar mixes with coffee creamer   
                  and then the milky way bar is   
                  dipped in the thick thick coffee  
                  creamer chocolate. The reast of   
                  the chocolate is poured in the   
                  empty universe and years years   
                  later they formed into planets   
                  and then astronoughts came on   
                  the planets and one of them smelled   
                  the planets and they thought they   
                  smelled coffee creamer and they  
                  tasted the planet and they tasted   
                  coffee creamer and chocolate the   
                  person told the other people and   
                  then they lived on the planet ever  
                  since then.  
 
Praise Pube] Skip Praise Pube> goto Ring Of Fire  
  35 messages  
  2 new  Ring Of Fire>  

   95Jul09 7:52 pm from Nigel
Non dairy creamer is some cool shit. Sprinkle it over a lit match.  Enjoy.  
Don't stand too close. 

   95Jul09 7:52 pm from Nigel
Cool shit. 

   95Jul09 8:14 pm from Psyche
Hot shit. Someone write a poem about hot shit. 

   95Jul09 8:31 pm from Formula 409
That's not really my forte. 

   95Jul09 9:45 pm from Zeylan
 
 Hot shit 
 the smell of your burning love 
 emotion from your 
 sweltering canal 
  
 That shit 
 the stuff my dreams are made of 
 when I think of your 
 fecal corral 
 
 Wet shit 
 falling from the sky above 
 it's starting to pour 
 rain so anal 
 
 Bird shit 
 from a passing turtle dove 
 or is it a pidgeon? or 
 another bird banal 

   95Jul09 9:45 pm from Zeylan
It's not really my forte, either. 

   95Jul09 9:50 pm from Zeylan
You know, on further reflection I'd have to say that it's kind of sad how 
almost every poem in this room is about shit.  Except for Little Rascal's, 
unless you consider chocolate and coffee creamer to be a rather shitty food 
combination as I do.  I'm sure that stuff would LOOK like shit if you mixed it 
together in large amounts.  Big chunky shit-paste.  Spread it with a knife. 

   95Jul09 10:45 pm from Nigel
Speaking of shit speaking of shit spreading.. 
 
The Smear Method 
     - N. W. 
 
 (Based on a true story) 
 
 How do I shit  
 in the fields of the gods 
 if I lack the paper of toilet? 
 I hover real well,  
 But I still lack an 
 ass of no wipe. 
 
 I'll tell you, my friend.  Just sit back and enjoy 
 The method we know as the smear.  All you need, boy 
 is a rock and or two and you'll be completely set. 
 
 Grunt 
 Excrete 
 Release 
 
 Wala!  Your shit is one with the earth. 
 Take the big rock and smear it around. 
 Your shit is more one with the earth. 
 
 Let it dry, my friend.  It will bake in the sun 
 and the shit - it will soon be no more.  The  
 rays will cook it, fry it, steam it, and kill it 
 and you have encouraged ecological awareness 
 
 Your shit does not stink or intrude upon  
 the rights of other trail users 
 it merely vanishes, and you know, if 
 you don't smear you're a loser. 

   95Jul09 10:47 pm from Nigel
If you're not a communist, you're a loser. 

   95Jul09 10:47 pm from Nigel
Okay, my poem has no rythm or rhyme whatsoever, but it conveys the idea of the 
smear method in poetic format.   

   95Jul09 11:07 pm from Mordrak
zeylan, i liked the rhyming scheme in your shit poem. 

   95Jul09 11:12 pm from Mordrak
 once again i sit on my cold porcelain throne, 
 the water splashing up my ass chilling my bones. 
 what a fool i was to have not learned my lesson, 
 still roaming the outdoors and dropping my essence. 
 
 just before leaving my house for this grand hike, 
 i had some bad granola by the rising sun's light. 
 i did not notice anything walking through the mountain, 
 until my shit threatened to shoot out like a fountain. 
 
 this time i committed the greatest of mistakes, 
 i climbed that gnarled tree over by the lake. 
 it wasn't until i was over and high at the top, 
 that i heard the dreaded sound of my ass going Plop! 
 
 it trickled and ran and flew down my pants, 
 i had nothing to wipe with except my hands. 
 the poop made my hands all slippery and wet, 
 i fell out of the tree thinking i was dead. 
 
 but luckily i had pooped out so much, 
 that i landed in it with the faintest touch. 
 as i sat there astounded with shit up to my knees, 
 i knew that diarrhea didn't mix with climbing trees... 
 
                                           7-8-95  10:48 
                                           howard tang 
 
 
i think i need help. 

   95Jul09 11:41 pm from Mr Pube
 Shit 
 Shit 
 Shit 
 Shit of Earl 
 Earl 
 Earl 

   95Jul10 9:24 am from Lack of Sleep
 
 Time motioned on 
 I pondered again 
 will my eyes always hold me 
 will I ever release 
 Waking relief 
 now forgetting why 
 where did my mind take me 
 did I dream again 
 did I fly 
 did I die like the many times before 
 once more I'm left in the dark  
 wide awake and wondering 
 shadow images in my head 
 a brief glimps of where I was 
 attempts at remembering cause forget. 
 
 Between the lines lies the boarder lands 
 with the shifting plains of existance 
 the overlapping great distance 
 not always imagination. 
 
 None the less what woke me 
 what caused my dreamland abandoning 
 were the cries for real  
 'twas the sun upon my flesh 
 I envy the who can stand the day 
 the sun's burning rays 
 and those who can sleep, at night. 
 
    (c) Xavier Warren 

   95Jul10 11:20 am from Norbus
How come that mini post from me got stuck on the top? 

   95Jul10 5:21 pm from Swagman
Kharma. 

   95Jul11 12:25 am from Mr Pube
 Sometimes I lick  
 Sometimes I bite 
 Dont suck my dick 
 And please dont fight 
 Shes a witch 
 That stupid whore 
 What a bitch 
 And what a bore 
 Maybe I should take a pee 
 Listening to Stagger Lee 
 SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT 

   95Jul11 6:11 am from Lack of Sleep
And, we sing, life is shit, life is shit, the world is shit, the WORLD is shit 
and, this is life as I know it, this is life as I know itttttt. 
 
 
    Staggering man 
    With you bottle in hand, 
    paper bag 
    crumpled. 
    You say to me hhhhhiiiii, 
    I say fuck off. 
    You say wwhhhhhhhyyy, 
     Sober up  
     Too shitfaced 
     Worse is the smell. 
 
     You say pull my finger, 
      I broke it, 
     You say ouch 
      then moan 
       begin to puke at my feet 
       right here 
       in the street 
         with your eyes 
         closed 
         your trench 
         Earth toned 
         or is it shit toned 
         I don't know 
         I just walked on by 
 
     It sets in 
     I turn around 
     I look at the dog in the street 
     I feel sorry 
      so I say 
       to him 
     Go home dad. 

   95Jul11 10:32 pm from Nigel
HAHahahahhahahhahahahahah!  Funny joke! 

   95Jul11 11:48 pm from Swagman
 
     Peevish. 
     Melancholy. 
     Vexed. 
     Perhaps 
     But  
     I'm not depressed. 

   95Jul12 12:13 am from MONZI
As we walk these beads of tribulation A light shimmers in the distance The 
ground shakes, shakes Center Sky rises around the thoughts That create your 
every emotion Directing from the Directors Chair Swallowed up in this fantasy
The True unessential Justice We all know as "Injustice" 

   95Jul12 8:17 pm from Yacub
 
 Oh my 
 life is 
 so pointless  
  
   my indentation 
   of these lines 
  that indentation 
  in your loins 
 
 Oh my 
 life is 
 so pointless  
 
   the sleep I lack 
   makes me so dumb 
  these keys I tap 
  make nothing fun 
 
 Oh my  
 life is 
 so pointless 
 
 hand me my leather 

   95Jul12 9:08 pm from Norbus
 The Microwave is Arcing 
    There's no bottom on it; put it on a block of wood 
 I can make grape popcorn again 
    Help me with this hingepin 
 No matter how you close this door, it won't shut right 
    Queue the nomad 
 Another solitary bee? 
    (ring ring) 
 All shortcuts are busy 

   95Jul12 9:55 pm from Zeylan
I like that one, Norbus. 
 
     Uncle Joe 
     dark and 
       affected 
     Left 
     twitch 
     Punches 
     a hole in 
       my bedroom wall 
     Good fucking job. 
     Have 
     another hit 
     of crystal meth 
     and a jalapeno 
     why 
     don't  
     you. 

   95Jul13 10:27 pm from Mordrak
 eat the meat, because it is tastey. 
 eat the meat, because it used to live. 
 eat the meat, because it's so juicy. 
 eat the meat, just because i said so. 

   95Jul13 10:54 pm from Nigel
here is a poem  a jingle a jive I sit and I write my braincase thrives 
 
oh shit.  I messed up the formatting. 

   95Jul13 10:56 pm from Nigel
Okay, dumbpoem number 1 revised.  
 
 Here is a poem 
 a jingle, a jive 
 I sit.  I write. 
 My braincase thrives 
 
 I am so smart!   
 I am so cool! 
 I can fart! 
 I can drool. 
 
 Brilliance and insight 
 go hand in hand 
 stupidity and mindlessness 
 are not in the CLAN 
 
 


   95Jul13 11:15 pm from Yacub
  Prevert 

   95Jul13 11:15 pm from Yacub
  Uhhh I'm completly re-tar-did s 

   95Jul14 11:10 am from Norbus
Would you please write poems that aren't so obvious?  Thank you. 

   95Jul14 6:00 pm from Psyche
Jacques Prevert 

   95Jul14 8:30 pm from Mr Pube
 - sphincter - 
 


   95Jul14 10:31 pm from Swagman
 
 POETRY 
 
 And it was at that age...poetry arrived 
 in search of me.  I don't know, I don't know where 
 it came from, from winter or a river. 
 I don't know how or when, 
 no, they were not voices, they were not 
 words, not silence, 
 but from a street it called me, 
 from the branches of night, 
 abruptly from the others, 
 among the raging fires 
 or returning alone, 
 there it was, without a face, 
 and it touched me. 
 I didn't know what to say, my mouth 
 had no way 
 with names, 
 my eyes were blind. 
 Something knocked in my soul, 
 fever or forgotten wings, 
 and I made my own way, 
 deciphering 
 that fire, 
 and I wrote the first, faint line, 
 faint, without substance, pure 
 nonsense, 
 pure wisdom 
 of someone who knows nothing; 
 and suddenly I saw 
 the heavens 
 unfastened 
 and open, 
 planets, 
 palpitating plantations, 
 the darkness perforated, 
 riddled 
 with arrows, fire, and flowers, 
 the overpowering night, the universe. 
 
 And I, tiny being, 
 drunk with the great starry 
 void, 
 likeness, image of 
 mystery, 
 felt myself a pure part  
 of the abyss. 
 My heart broke loose with the wind. 
 
                    --Pablo Neruda 

   95Jul14 10:43 pm from Zeylan
No no no.  This room is for original poetry, not this reprinted shit.  Keep 
that other shit outa here.  Spft.  Cat Poem Time!!! 
 
 Steely 
 cat 
 She comes to the window. 
 I see her 
 zealous feelings 
 pain 
 unbridled of the kind 
   all too familiar; 
 she looks for me. 
 But I 
 have gone, 
 
 Freely 
 that 
 which has no shadow: 
 forever 
 jealous concealings 
 stain 
 my saturated mind 
   in ways peculiar. 
 Don't wait for me, 
 for I 
 moved on. 

   95Jul15 2:13 am from Spock
Nice and real. 
 
 Defocus 
  The Lawn but only some blades quiver. 
 Forget 
  Shimmer dark sun on hedges unkempt. 
 Remember 
  Resent but only some means are justified 
 Maybe 

   95Jul15 8:09 am from Swagman
Jesus Zeylan, you can be an ignorant prick sometimes.  Fuck you.   

   95Jul15 10:00 am from Swagman
Oops, sorry Zeylan.  What a mistake to post a poem in here by a Nobel Laureat 
in Literature.  You didn't even read it I'll bet.  What a sorry lack of 
appreciation of the profound and sublime.  Ok, proceed on with your cat 
doggerel and bilious jabberwocky.  I shall not attempt to throw pearls before 
swine in your room again.   

   95Jul15 10:32 am from Norbus
Are you swining about my poetry as well? 

   95Jul15 11:18 am from Mr Pube
 Maybe today I'll go 
  Or maybe today I wont 
 Yesterday was the same 
  As far as shitting goes 
 Every single pill and drink 
  And all the shredded wheat 
 Why can't I take a dump? 
  Little shits are neat. 

   95Jul15 12:28 pm from Spock
Hey!  That was actually clever and not something you'd find on a bathroom 
stall.  Well, actually, I'd like to see that on a bathroom stall. 

   95Jul15 1:19 pm from Nigel
I went up to this place called "Twin Towers" on Friday night to watch the 
sunset.  On the way up I passed about a billion hikers, and one of them said 
"Hey, there's about 250 more."  Even though his was kidding, I still passed 
about 30 or so.  Hmm.  Then I saw some woman walking her dogs - they were 
drinking out of this calm little "stream" (if you will)...  Big big golden 
retrievers.  I wonder what they think.  They seem so dumb.  I wonder what the 
life of a dog is like.  I wonder if they communicate among themselves.  I 
wonder if they can "talk" to cats.  Hmm.  Oh well.  They seemed happy to be 
where they were.  Nice and jumpy and slobbery.  Anyway, I got there and sat on 
this big rock and looked out at Santa Barbara.  You know, we sure live in a 
really cool town.  There is so much stuff to do here...  Just that lots of 
people are too lazy to go exploring.  Oh well.  Their loss.  The fog was 
creeping in off of the ocean, the lights in the harbor were twinkling.  It was 
that time when you can see the city lights but you can also see your way 
around...  Not too light, not too dark.  The sun set.  Did you know that the 
Jupiter probe is going to heat up to twice the temperature of the sun.  I 
wonder if people will ever live on a different planet.  I wonder if people 
will ever live on the moon.  I wonder if time warps are possible.  I wonder 
how many people like to sit on a rock and wonder.  Wondering is wonderfully 
wonderful.  The Sierra Club people gave me a ton of dirty looks.  Following 
the "rules of the trail," mountain bikers are supposed to get off and let 
hikers and equestrians pass.  Well, the road to Twin Towers is a fire road 
that has been eroded and washed out because of the storms, and it skinnies 
down to a singletrack here and there.  I stopped on the singletracks.  Every 
one.  I got two thank-you's and many glares.  I wonder what I did wrong?  I 
didn't stop when the trail widened to the size of a road.  I still got 
glares.  I wasn't hurting anybody.  I wasn't endangering anybody.  Oh well.  
The sunset was beautiful and I rode home thinking about the Pea-Soup-Land that 
Santa Barbara would soon become.  See, when the marine layer comes in during 
the night, you can get above it and look out...  Everything looks like pea 
soup.  Different colored city lights illuminate the fog... it's really 
surreal.  Hmmm.  I'm gonna miss this place. 

   95Jul15 5:43 pm from Mordrak
it's because this room is for barf.  not for poet laureate stuff. 

   95Jul15 6:29 pm from Zeylan
Gee, Swag, if you want to post unoriginal stuff stuff in here, I could fucking 
care less.  It's your BBS, do whatever the fuck you want.  I could go out and 
buy more books on poetry if I wanted to read that, but instead I was thinking 
that maybe I'd like to see some new stuff.  Silly me.  Posting stuff you 
didn't write takes no effort or creativity whatsoever, so if that's how you 
want to express yourself -- using other people's words -- go right ahead.  I 
was hoping this room would be used for _new_ and original poetry because I was 
sure that the users of this sytem are creative and insightful, but once again 
you have proven me wrong through example.   
   Sow how about some Emily Dickenson?  Poe?  Got that poem about being lovely 
as a tree?  I think I've only seen that one about ninety-seven times, I think 
I'm due for one more trip.  Maybe you could even sign your own name to the 
bottom of it. 

   95Jul15 6:44 pm from Barfing Skull
Is barfing supposed to be the actual topic of poetry here?  I'll have to give 
it some time before I'm actually compelled to write about food expulsion.  Let 
me get back to you. 

   95Jul16 3:47 am from Mr. Dog
Was there some tacit contract restricting this room to unmitigated, amateurish 
drivel? 
     Is there any reason to think that entering quality unoriginal poetry will 
somehow make it impossible or painful for users to enter their own poetry?  
Are we so weak-minded that seeing something good will make us utterly lose 
heart and quit our own efforts?  Or will reading excellent, accomplished work 
on the contrary inspire us?  If you don't like reading the poems Swagman 
enters here, Zeylan, why don't you (N)ext through it?  I'd like to see 
more of it.  My appreciation of poetry isn't limited to a lot of loquacious 
wanking-off at other people's expense. 
     Man, Zeylan, you're a perpetual WHINER, aren't you?  It's pathetic.  I 
suppose I should give you credit for not threatening to anally pentrate his 
mother, though -- that sort of rejoinder seems to be the norm for you.  Still, 
by ordinary standards, you comport yourself like an infant with a bad cold and 
a boo-boo on his knee.  Maybe if someone gave you a rubber nipple you'd shut 
the hell up. 
     This room should be for enjoying poetry regardless of its origins, not 
for juvenile exercises in tyranny. 

   95Jul16 9:07 am from Nigel
Since when can you call people whiners?  Every day you leave whining half page 
messages in every room. 

   95Jul16 1:04 pm from Zeylan
That is the essence of a whiner -- whining about other's whining.  Mr. Dog 
apparently has some sort of B.A. or PhD in it. 

   95Jul16 9:37 pm from Mr Pube
He the Captain of Crap. 

   95Jul16 11:55 pm from Spock
 Half moon.  Wanes 
  "Tsk Tsk, how pathetic" litanies the tree. 
 Sycamores? 
  "Sycamores only grow in the ravine" 
 Surveys said:  "Not There" 
  "You pressed VCR instead of TV on your remote" 
 I didn't make it to the water tower. 
  "Sycamores only grow near water" 
 Don't we all. 

   95Jul17 12:05 am from Spock
Don't forget, I'm someone else. 

   95Jul17 5:40 am from Mr. Dog
...and by the same token Zeylan whines about someone else allegedly whining 
about his own initial whining.  So if not thus self-described as the essence 
of querulousness, what?  Ad nauseum (to me).  Barf, but not poetic. 
     Nigel, your hyperboles make you ridiculous.  No comment (despite 
appearances). 
     Ph.D. is an acronym for "Piled higher and deeper."  At any rate, my 
pedigree (!) isn't quite that high, quite that deep. 

   95Jul17 9:49 am from Zeylan
Mr. Dog, I know there's a poet somewhere under your fur.  I'd like to see 
something of yours, if you wouldn't mind sharing it with us here. 

   95Jul17 7:01 pm from Nigel
My hyberboles make you dickridgeulous 

   95Jul18 2:01 am from Mr. Dog
My hyperballs make your dic...Um, I think we should drop this right now.   
     OK, I'll post some of my poetry when I get a chance to retrieve it from 
storage (the dusty closet downtown or the sealed crypts of my harddrive). 

   95Jul18 12:44 pm from Zeylan
Great.  Or if you can't find it, write something new. 

   95Jul18 2:17 pm from Norbus
It's preferrable if it's new. 

   95Jul19 12:02 am from The Wombat
They called him hyper hiker. 

   95Jul19 11:33 am from Amarantheus
 
 ode to the chicago summer 
 
 i love you too honey 
 but you know 
 it's really fucking hot in here 
 and the power's out 
 and you know 
 i honestly think i'm too hot 
 to fuck 

   95Jul19 3:06 pm from Zeylan
You're never too hot to fuck. 

   95Jul19 3:07 pm from Zeylan
Well, at least I'm not. 

   95Jul20 1:57 pm from Amarantheus
Then you've never been stuck in an apartment in CHicago in a midsummer 
heatwave when the power goes out so you have no air conditioning and the 
windows don't quite open all the way and it's 106 degrees and 60% humidity out 
and all the old folks in your building are dropping like flies and all the ice 
has melted and even the tap water is warm and you can't do anything but lie 
there naked on the bed and stare in disbelief at your discomfort when you 
can't do anything to fix it because you're too hot to walk anywhere that might 
possibly be air conditioned. 

   95Jul20 3:40 pm from Zeylan
Neither have you. 

   95Jul20 11:45 pm from Mr. Dog
Oh, 106 farenheit?  Gosh, that's just torture.  No air conditioning?  And you 
don't expire?  Astonishing.  106.  That's almost as hot as Mercury, isn't it?  
Boy, you start SWEATING and everything, don't you?  What hell.  Sheer hell. 
     NEITHER of you have ever been in the back yard when the oranges are all 
unripe or rotten, when the sun isn't directly overhead, when you're out of 
Coppertone, when the neighbors are playing soccer (a tad LOUD), when there are 
ants somewhere on the ground, when the grass hasn't been mowed in the past two 
days, when the headphones aren't quite SNUG enough, when the coffee mug next 
to the (slightly un-soft) beach towel sits at a tilt, when an airplane drifts 
silently by BLOCKING YOUR VIEW of a little bit of the sky.  It's fucking AGONY.
 

   95Jul21 3:31 am from Norbus
Nice poetry, C&R? 

   95Jul21 3:32 am from Norbus
My meter's reading nothing in this area. 

   95Jul21 9:21 am from Psyche
Yep, all life forms have been eliminated. 

   95Jul21 4:16 pm from Mr Pube
Mr. Dog's posts are painful to read. 

   95Jul22 2:28 am from Mr. Dog
Good. 

   95Jul22 2:48 am from Norbus
I like pain. 

   95Jul22 7:06 am from Swagman
I haven't got time for the pain. 

   95Jul22 7:07 am from Swagman
However, Mr. Dog's posts are precious. 

   95Jul22 10:07 am from Psyche
Like little jewels. 

   95Jul22 1:39 pm from Spock
Like little spewels. 

   95Jul22 3:10 pm from Mr Pube
Not since I found you. 

   95Jul23 12:57 pm from Formula 409
Precious is exactly the right word. 

   95Jul24 8:47 pm from Norbus
Meanwhile back at the branch.... 

   95Jul24 8:48 pm from Norbus
 Branch shimmering orange dusklit 
 Smirking at the freeway sponsored pothole 
 Forms patter down a short term staircase 
 Retention is from 9-5 
 The drip system is getting more obvious... 

   95Jul24 8:50 pm from Spock
 Bar no rhetoric 
 Yeah, that was me 
 Tapping the stout and draining til weak 
 It sucked me dry 
 2 dead presidents rest with those in peace 
 Band... those together 

   95Jul25 2:11 am from Mordrak
do you love it?   
 i love it. 
 fuck off. 

   95Jul25 11:55 am from Nigel
Okay, folks.  Here's some poetry. 

   95Jul25 11:57 am from Nigel
 Life in the Fast Lane 

   95Jul25 12:00 pm from Nigel
Ooops. 
 
Life in the Fast Lane 
 
 It's double trouble, with a dash of paprika 
 Add salt, mix with rabbit, stick in a hot and wet place 
 and let fester for nine months, or more 
 Season to taste. 
 
 Tractor pull, dying Yule 
 log. 
 
 It's big, heavy, and  wood. 
 Who needs an umbrella? Not me!  
 Nevah me. The rain is but gasoline- black gold. 
  I fear no gold.  
 
 There once was a girl named Bimbina 
 with a wet and quivering gina. 
 She strolled down the street, hoping to meet 
 A man with a can of Orangina. 
  
 Bimbina was stricken with grief. 
 She tried, but she just couldnUt queef. 
 The circus freak show was the place she could go 
 To find cheap orgasmic relief. 
 
 But, alas, the young wench was smote 
 by a clown with a big overcoat. 
 He showed her inside; her eyes opened wide; 
 His dick was beginning to smoke. 
 
 She wanted to put out the fire- 
 The heat of his naked desire. 
 She wrapped her lips around his hips, 
 Yet the flames grew higher and higher. 
 
 She sucked and she sucked and she sucked 
 She sucked and she sucked, how she sucked! 
 She sucked and she sucked, she sucked, still she sucked, 
 And she sucked and she sucked and they fucked. 
 
 But the maiden was not flame resistent. 
 His fiery pecker persisted. 
 It singed the young Goddess, and burned off her bodice. 
 Her breasts lept forth-Oy!-unassisted! 
 
 As her titties emerged from the rubble, 
 Her implants sure started to bubble! 
 Her bubble soon burst, and there is nothing worse 
 Than a siliconed maiden in trouble. 
 
 She burnt to the floor in a pile 
 Of silicone, clown juice, and bile. 
  
 And menstrual blood. 
 
                        (C) 1995, NiPsYa 

   95Jul25 12:01 pm from Nigel
Shit.  I forgot.   
 
     That was written at 12:17 am, 07/24/95 

   95Jul25 12:02 pm from Nigel
Son'Bitch.   
 
12:17 am, 07/25/95 

   95Aug01 7:03 pm from Norbus
Okay, here's one from a long time ago when I was still in High School. 

   95Aug01 7:07 pm from Norbus
        "Tamed Rebels" 
 
 Times have passed, and days gone by 
 When together we would roam 
 The laughter, fun and good times had 
 We made our lives our own 
 
 Each day to say to all who ruled: 
 "Fuck You!  I'll be me" 
 For Hapiness was in our grasp 
 Whenever we were free. 
 
 At last we now have reached our goal 
 Adults by eyes of all 
 But new found freedom wanes each day 
 as responsibility makes its call 
 
 Smiles and laughter fade to grey 
 as life becomes a trap 
 To waste our time, to earn our way 
 no longer sit and rap 
 
 I appeal to thee, my faithful friend 
 do not become enslaved 
 the trap of time, the hold of life 
 is only tamed by brave 
 
 Together we have memories 
 of times spent well together 
 But remember that, through thick and thin 
 Friends do last forever. 

   95Aug01 7:08 pm from Norbus
Okay, so it's kinda simple, but it was before I was as messed up as I am now. 

   95Aug03 1:37 am from Mordrak
i really liked your poem norbus.  it brought a tear to my eye.  =) 

   95Aug03 11:48 am from Norbus
Thanx 

   95Aug07 5:03 pm from Giganto
dame don't you people ever write one line messages?! don't you people ever 
write one line messages? 

   95Aug07 5:18 pm from Mr Pube
sometimes. 

   95Aug08 1:25 am from Mordrak
your message wasn't 1 line. 

   95Aug08 12:35 pm from Zeylan
And it a grammatical fuckup. 

   95Aug08 1:32 pm from Mr Pube
And how! 

   95Aug17 8:25 pm from Math Blaster
 Plaster flies, 
 A door slams shut 
 Another person is cut off 
 One is angry 
 Another sad 
 For reasons yet unknown 
 There be two people 
 One mad, other sad 
 Why? 
 Imagine the door 
 It's pain and hurt 
 At being slammed 
 Imagine the plaster 
 Reduced to flakes 
 And isolation 
 Yet there be two people 
 One mad, one sad 
 But totally ignorant 
 Of the hurting of others. 

   95Aug17 9:32 pm from Psyche
Damn 

   95Aug17 11:11 pm from Chunion
Here is some Rollins poetry: He picked up the gun and held it up to his chin
Then he set it down again He picked up the gun and held it against his ear
Then he set it down again He picked up the gun and put it in his mouth Then he 
set it down again He picked up the newspaper and laughed at himself "Oh you're 
so full of it." 

   95Aug18 4:43 am from Norbus
!! your dead. 

   95Aug18 4:44 am from Norbus
fuck fuck! "you're"  And I swore tonight.  Think about it. 

   95Aug18 9:02 am from Psyche
"Think about it." Your dead 

   95Aug18 7:17 pm from Swagman
Not my dead, it must be your dead.  I thought about it. 

   95Aug18 7:47 pm from Norbus
 "I quite agree with you," said the Duchess; "and the moral of that is -- `Be 
what you would seem to be' -- or, if you'd like it put more simply -- `Never 
imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that 
what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been 
would have appeared to them to be otherwise.'" 
                -- Lewis Carrol, "Alice in Wonderland" 

   95Aug18 10:48 pm from Worker "B"
 
 
 tHi 
    S 
   is PoE 
 TRy 
  tO a CeRtai 
 /\/ 
     mR. eE 
  CumMi 
       n 
        g 
         S  doNT 
    as 
      K  mE Y? 

   95Aug19 3:26 am from Psyche
I'm hallucinating 

   95Aug19 8:58 am from Formula 409
Come down here. 

   95Aug19 1:26 pm from Psyche
COme by here 

   95Aug19 4:16 pm from Norbus
He got down there; said "what you want?"  One burboun, one scotch, and one 
beer. 

   95Aug19 9:24 pm from Formula 409
How dry I am. 

   95Aug19 10:07 pm from Chunion
Norbus, that was a good poem.  Here is another one: "James stood in life for a 
nice cup of coffee at his local 7-11. Then some guy in front of him reached 
back to get one of those stirrer things. 'Hurry up',  James said to the man. 
Then the man left to go to the cash register and James realized the man had 
emptied the pot, and he didn't really feel like waiting for another one to be 
made. He shuffled outside and saw a cup of coffee on the hood of a car. 'It 
must be that bastard's car,' he thought. Then a man tapped him on the shoulder 
and he caught a fist in the stomach. It was the man. Then the man kicked him 
and he fell to the ground. Our James felt like crap and  just layed in the 
parking lot for a while. Another night in the city passd. 

   95Aug19 10:37 pm from Nature Boy
how wet i'll be, if i don't find the bathroom key... 

   95Aug20 3:06 am from Norbus
It's not a poem if only your interpretation is obvious.  But, that sounds like 
what I go through when I drink a cup of 7-11 coffee.  That stuff's pretty 
harsh. 

   95Aug20 9:15 pm from Nature Boy
naww... the chill cheese nachos are hash. 

   95Aug20 10:02 pm from Chunion
The man never had a gun because he never wanted one But now when he's left 
alone on the street he wished he had something to ensure his safety on the way 
homefrom work. 

   95Aug20 10:26 pm from Mr Pube
It's better to have a gun and not need it, then to need a gun and not have 
one. - Clarence Worley, True Romance. 

   95Aug21 8:26 am from Nature Boy
guns are cool 

   95Aug21 10:46 am from Norbus
Why? 

   95Aug21 12:27 pm from Mr Pube
Guns don't kill people, people kill guns. Or something... 

   95Aug21 4:59 pm from Nature Boy
no guns don't kill people, gangmembers kill people.gun is got to have, but 
not for killing. 

   95Aug22 12:10 am from Mr Pube
For artistic reasons?  To excercise our Bob Blaylock rights? 

   95Aug22 4:27 pm from Nature Boy
no, to shoot cans and targets, and now and then a gangmember. 

   95Aug22 6:32 pm from Swagman
 read New  
 
   95Mar07 12:47 pm from Opie 
 Then send hate mail.  
 
   95Mar07 6:28 pm from Colin Campbell 
   I found a good description of brian on the net today: brian is just the 
shadow on the lung in the chest x-ray, the much publicized cold fusion 
experiment, the creep hiding in the bushes by the MAC machine, the oily bilge
pumped into the harbor, the process gone awry and vented to flame at the 
refinery, the unaviodable, bottomless pothole filled with water, the fly in 
the eye of the starving children in Eritrea, the dozens of of dog turds that 
appear on the lawn in the spring when the snow melts, the hairy mole on the 
chin of the syphlitic crone, the abandoned strip mine filled with pH = 3 
water, the mass of hair and turds plugging up the septic system, the vaginal 
yeast infection that won't go away, the pentanoic acid, dimethylsulfide 
impregnated tennis shoes in the locker, the reassuring warmth of Louis 
Farakhan, the smell in the kitchen from frying week old Iowa kidney scrapple,
the burning, itching anus the morning after eating too many Jalepenos, the 
Lyme-disease ridden tick in the child's hair, the look on Corkme's face when 
she finally gets Holeburn's pants off and finds out that he's impotent and 
can't get it up, the Republican bastard screwing the poor people to line his 
own pockets, the senior citizen with Alzheimer's abandoned in the nursing 
home, the lump of coal in the Christmas stocking, the elementary school 
student held back for the third time, the skidmarks on the new underwear that
Clorox won't even touch, the hairy stubble around Grizzy's raisin-like areola 
flapping on the end of her sock-like tits, the letter from the IRS announcing 
your audit, the drunk in the subway passed out laying in a puddle of his own 
piss, the lipid-filled turd that floats and can't be flushed down, the high 
school student who realizes that he's filled in the wrong numbered blanks with 
five minutes to go on his SAT test, the red and blue lights from the cop car 
in your rear view mirror, the liquid bird shit on the bicycle seat, the
smouldering ruins of the burned out rain forest, the next man who marries 
Lorena Bobbitt, the Serb lobbing mortar shells into the hospital in Sarejevo, 
the necrotic toe of a leprosy patient, the dust mites breeding in the fur balls
under the bed, the recalcitrant ring of calcium and magnesium salts of soap on 
the bath tub, the huge zit on the chin of a student being photographed for the 
highschool yearbook, the call from your mechanic saying the car can't be 
fixed, the groom still waiting at the alter two hours after the bride was 
supposed to arrive, the dog noisily licking his dick in front of your boss 
when he comes for dinner, the man who asks the women how long till the baby's 
due and she's not pregnant, the rung of the ladder twenty feet off the ground 
that breaks when you step on it, the red, bulbous nose of the alcoholic at the 
corner bar that's covered with broken veins, Corkme's five o'clock shadow, the 
house next to the Fresh Kills landfill on a July day, the drunk that runs the 
stop sign and hits the teenagers on the way to their graduation, the turd still
dangling from the cat's butt when she steps out of the litter box, the hard 
disk that crashes three months after the last backup, the juvenile delinquent 
whose parents wouldn't even show for his court date, the bulging dowager's 
hump on the back of the old lady with blue hair, the dried brown tobacco
spittle in the corner of the Louisiana redneck's mouth, the noisy malodorous 
fart during communion, the priest reaching into your son's pants, the dinner 
invitation from Stalin, the drink of vinegar given to Jesus on the cross, the 
genital herpes flareup on the newlyweds wedding night, the pinhole in the 
condom, the trip to the latrine with the latest issue of Playboy, the twelve 
year old girl's first period that hits her on the day she's wearing her white 
pants and delivering her book report in front of the class, the returned 
engagement ring, the man that always comes 45 seconds before his wife's ready 
to have an orgasm and the bad can of spam that can't even be rescued with 
ketchup.  
           
In short, brian is the concentrated, consolidated, focussed, distilled, 
recrystallized, sublimed and chromatographed essence of all that could 
possibly and conceivably go wrong with a human being who has an incorrect base 
pair on every third residue of its genetic material.  
 
   95Mar07 6:31 pm from Psyche 
 But he's so cuuuuute!  
 
   95Mar07 6:50 pm from Norbus 
 There is unrest in the forest There is trouble with the Trees For the Maples 
scream opression and the oaks ignore their pleas.  
 
The problem with the Maples and they're quite convinced they're right They say 
the Oaks are just too lofty and they grab up all the light  
 
But the Oaks can't help their feelings if they like the way they're made And 
the wonder why the Maples Can't be happy in the shade.  
 
Hmmm....  How's that for "The Trees"?  I'm sure some of you understand where
this came from.  
 
 


   95Aug22 8:22 pm from Norbus
(ponder) 

   95Aug23 1:19 am from Formula 409
So, Colin, how do you REALLY feel about Brian? 

   95Aug23 10:11 am from Math Blaster
It is whispered that soon... 

   95Aug23 7:42 pm from Colin Campbell
   Oh, I've completely changed my feelings about brian. I've decided that in 
the past, I was too easy on him. 

   95Aug23 8:59 pm from Swagman
It's about time you came to your senses, Colin. 

   95Aug23 10:37 pm from Mr Pube
Brian brian brian..... (sigh) 

   95Aug24 8:33 am from Math Blaster
We will all hear the tune... 

   95Aug24 11:43 pm from Mr Pube
 Making these desicions 
 Jesus H. Christ 
 Look I go  
 I do 
 I please you 
 I listen 
 I follow  
 I work 
 Rarely do I ask you  
 For anything 
 But then you expect 
 More then I'm willing to give 
 Dont act surprised 
 Dont act like you don't know 
 That you've been pushing it 
 That I haven't been enjoying it 
 Don't act like what I've been giving 
 Doesn't amount to anything 
 Keep in mind what I've done 
 Appreciate that 
 Appreciate what I'm doing 
 Don't dwell on what I'm going to do 

   95Aug27 1:59 am from Mordrak
 to fear to know that one is human like the rest of us.  to think that fear is 
not real is to deny yourself a basic feature needed to survive.  i know people 
that are too much "man" to ever admit that anything ever scared them.  my 
theory is that these people are fools.  remember your childhood?  what made it 
special?  all that wonderfully blind belief of magic and innocence.  where the 
good guy gets the crap beaten out of him, but still manages to defeat the 
loathsome antaganist and get the girl?  or perhaps memories of the first trip 
to the dentist or the scary hallway at night?  what made all those things so 
special on recollection?  it was that blissful fear that made your heart pump 
and your hair stand on end.  fear is an "emotion" that has probably been at 
the root of many fond memories, whether some realize it or not.  i cannot end 
by saying that fear is great, or fear is wonderful, except maybe that fear is 
what everyone requires to live an ideal existence.  of course, i may be 
completly wrong.  just some thoughts on a ponderous night... 

   95Aug27 12:22 pm from Mr Pube
I don't know why people look back on their childhood happily.  I look forward 
to a time when I don't have to be afraid of anything.  I think I'll eventually 
be  just too busy to be afraid of anything.  I'll probably look back, as I do 
now,  wishing I was back in 6th grade with next to no responsibility.   

   95Sep05 5:13 am from Lack of Sleep
on the carpet I walk, 
 nasty critters I stalk 
  DIE YOU FUCKING FLEA! 
   as I crush thee 
    between my fingers. 

   95Sep05 9:24 am from Psyche
Blip 
                          blip 
 bleep 
            changing channels, whee. 

   95Sep05 7:39 pm from Lobo
The baby moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian 
West. A ring of silver foxes, a mist of silver  foxes, sit and sit around the 
Indian  Moon. One yellow star for a runner, and rows of  blue stars for more 
runners, keep a line of runners. O foxes, baby moon, runners, you are the 
panel of memory, fire-white writing tonight of the Red Man's dreams. Who 
squats, legs crossed, and arms folded, matching its look against the moon
face, the star-faces, of the West. Who are the Mississippi Valley ghost, of
copper fore heads, riding wiry ponies in the night?--no bridles, love arms on
the pony necks, riding in the night, a  long old trail? Why do they always 
come back when the silver foxes sit around the early moon, a silver papoose in 
the Indian West. 

   95Sep05 7:39 pm from Lobo
 little Noth American poetry ofr ya... 

   95Sep05 11:26 pm from Lack of Sleep
try adding a space before each new line.  
 like  
 this 
 get it? 
 
 
     running running 
       running around 
    minithin high 
     not a good thing 
     ability to piss denied 
    all the water I drank used up 
     poison in side me 
     GIVE ME! 
      gatorade 
     WHAT THE FUCK? 
      poweraid tastes like shit! 
     driving 
     driving 
      WINDOW! 
       AIR!!! 
     too late 
    what i didn't have in me 
     now lies behind me 
    spattered on the road 
     and maybe a car or two 
      I feel better now 
      like a fucking bloated cow-OH NO NOT AGAIN!!! WINDOW DOWN!!!!!!! 

   95Sep05 11:26 pm from Lack of Sleep
true story  

   95Sep11 4:57 pm from Lobo
  J789IM (the 789 is silen) 
    fell d 
          o 
           w 
            n 
    and knocked 
   the JIM from his name 
  and is NOW 
  
   NO ONE... 

   95Sep12 3:07 pm from Norbus
Well, he's 789 but it's silent. 

   95Sep13 8:27 pm from INCORRECT PARAMATER
That reminds me of that old joke about the P in Pool being silent. 

   95Sep13 11:13 pm from Psyche
P rhymes with T, you know. 

   95Sep14 12:29 am from Luminary Coremaster
We've got big Trouble, right here in River City! 

   95Sep14 6:43 am from Lack of Sleep
River city, but where was the river?  I don't remember their being a river. 

   95Sep15 2:03 pm from Opie
River City Ransom. 

   95Sep30 8:33 pm from Whacko Man
Whem me prayers were poorley said, Who tucked me in me widdle bed, And spanked 
me ass til it was red, Me mudder 
 
Who took me from me cozy cot, And put me on the ice cold pot, And made me pee 
if me could not, Me mudder 
 
And when the moring light had come, And in me crib me dribble some, Who wiped 
me tiny widdle bum, Me mudder. 
 
Who would me hair so gently part, And hugged me gently to her heart, And 
sometimes squeezed me til me fart, Me mudder. 
 
Who looked at me with eyebrows knit, And nearly threw a king sized fit, When 
in my Sunday pants me shit, Me mudder.  
 
 LETS HEAR IT FOR MOM!!!! 

   95Sep30 8:50 pm from Swagman
Thanks, Whacko Man, I saved that... 

   95Sep30 9:08 pm from Norbus
How sweet :o) 

   95Sep30 10:39 pm from Seizure
awwwwww. 

   95Oct01 8:54 am from Nature Boy
what? what was he mumbling about? 

   95Oct02 12:40 am from Luminary Coremaster
Is it Mother's Day already?  Nah, couldn't be.... 

   95Oct02 5:45 pm from Whacko Man
Thank you Thankyou. I was nothing really. Thankyou. 

   95Oct02 8:52 pm from The Wombat
Ahhh Whacko reveals himself to be an existentialist.  He was nothing, but now 
he draws power from the fact that he exists. 

   95Oct03 1:10 am from Luminary Coremaster
Intriguing! 

   95Oct03 3:07 pm from Whacko Man
aaaaauuuuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 I have lost my 
whoppoduudlleydooperidsobopathingamajig. I need to borrow yours. Maybe you are 
not here. I will try again tomarrow. please let me borro-w it 

   95Oct03 3:33 pm from Whacko Man
On the basket ball court., dribbleing, dribblind. going down stream. gotta 
find a kleenex to wipe off the dribble going down in a stream. gotta stop 
lookin at those fine chicks that cause me to dribble.{in more thane way.} .
gotta find ugly farts to drive me away. i think I am going to go take a nap 
now. bye see you later 

   95Oct04 4:44 pm from Whacko Man
uhhhh uhhhh  here I sit uhhhhing i don't know why I uhhhh but I think it is 
because of the tiki gog uhhhh. I don't really know but I uhhhh, just to uhhhh.
I guess I like to uhhhh because it sounds cool. my locker combination is 
12-26-35 that is for my P.E. locker but I dunno why I am telling you because I 
am just a uhhhher. %pw 

   95Oct05 12:43 am from The Wombat
And with that, the inate user was *BLIP*ed.  Strange.  He tried to use a 
Renegade MCI code in Citadel... What does this tell us? :-o 

   95Oct06 6:19 pm from Mr Pube
He's a tard. But we already knew that. 

   95Oct06 8:12 pm from Whacko Man
Pube has big Boobs. He watches the tube. Mayt have a mild-laxitive affect if 
consumed in large quanties!!! 

   95Oct06 8:18 pm from Whacko Man
                     (______________) 
    /----------------: 
   /:                :   
  * :                : 
    :                :  
    ^                ^: 
                           :SDFS(gf 

   95Oct06 8:24 pm from Whacko Man
What we say to Ender. "ENDER! ENDER! THIS IS THE LAST TIME!!!!!!!!! I TOLD YOU 
TO STOP DIGGING IN THE TRASH!!!!!!!!!!! IF YOU DO IT ONE MORE TIME YOU WILL BE 
NUTERED!!!! WHAT ender hears. "blah blah ENDER! BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH 
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH ENDER! BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH 
tutered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH b AG LADY TRASH 
DIGGER!@!!^%@^#^$#@^$#e@BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH 
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH TUTERED!!!67407903265-9348*)%(&$%#^@%(@*#&BLAH BLAH BLAH 
BLAH BLAH BLAH ENDER!!!! 
 
 
BLAH BLAH BY ENDER THE DOG. 

   95Oct08 4:14 pm from Mr Pube
If I had big boobs I certainly wouldn't be calling here. 

   95Oct08 9:03 pm from The Wombat
He'd be going off to SF. 

   95Oct08 9:18 pm from Formula 409
To dance in a strip club 

   95Oct10 2:36 pm from Luminary Coremaster
If Pube had big boobs, he'd never leave the house! 

   95Oct10 2:37 pm from Luminary Coremaster
Hey... Is Whacko Man really Wombat's Brother in disguise? 

   95Oct11 7:48 am from Lack of Sleep
How should I know, I've never seen him not wearing a disguise yet alone 
wearing one. 

   95Oct14 8:13 am from Whacko Man
HEH HEH HEH!! Look at all the comotion I have caused my little chinchilla!! 
HEHEHEHEHEHEH SCRRRREEEECCCCCHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

   95Oct14 8:49 pm from The Wombat
Ummmm No comment.  

   95Oct16 5:53 am from Lack of Sleep
 poet barf, usually resembles dried tomatos and blood.  must be the red wine. 

   95Oct17 7:20 pm from Mordrak
 i had loved you once 
 maybe even twice 
 i spun the wheel 
 and rolled the dice 
 it came out snake eyes 
 i guess i lose 
 i guess i lied 
 and so did you 
 
                                                 -m.- 

   95Oct17 7:44 pm from COLON CANCER
Has anybody seen a sample of Bill Waterson's poetry?  In one episode of Calvin 
and Hobbes, he wrote an alliterative haiku!  That's talent, considering he's 
putting out around 10 episodes a week(some are discarded)! 

   95Oct20 10:03 am from Lack of Sleep
 
 ha ha to lack of beauty  
 repeating in too many minds of my own 
 I can feel it as it empowers me 
 this control of mood to extremity 
 sugar rush oddly felt for the first time 
 all hallow's eve is nearing to be the now, 
 the tempting of the mime face 
 of course not the crow you fuck I snap back. 
 
 Painted art works linger on the exact opposite of sight, 
  they're mear changes in the appearance that all do see 
   a mask without a mask 
    a change of what you have naturally  
     the eyes behind 
     the eyes behind 
    the eyes behind the face of make-up mask ego. 
 
 You see me strange,  
  you hear my voices change, 
   is it a change you can handle? 
    does it intrigue your urge urge urges to laugh at the lovers of unshocking. 
  
 red red red red 
 lost in though 
 once again  
 only in boxers laying in bed 
  thinking mach 5 
   one train of thought 
    for maybe the second time in existance 
     a love of it 
      abilities of normal opperation brain wave  
       a new trance to save in the memoirs of memories 
  recall recall 
  and ritalin will never be needed again. 
 
 find yourself, you like it no matter how bad, when acceptance is there with 
you hand in hand. 
 
 (c) Xavier Warren  aka Mosier 

   95Oct23 10:57 pm from Swagman
 I Know the Process  
 
 I know the process by which to heal  
 I swim in it, I gaze through it  
 I breathe it, draw it in deep  
 Across my shoulders, knees, elbows  
 Wrists, ankles.    Fingertips and   
 Toes -- roots into space, into the  
 streets, the cars, the sea of faces  
 walking and driving past my secure  
 ensconcement of sidewalk cafe.  
 So where is my healing in all this?  
 Do I carry it with me?  Does someone  
 bring it to me?  Either way, I have  
 it already in my pocket, folded,  
 hidden, ready to use.  I'll not worry   
 about it, it's there when I need it.  
 Instead, I drink coffee, gaze at  
 passerby walkers and think about   
 getting a haircut, wondering   
 about blond women in black cars,   
 watching a white-haired old man  
 turn his head around, eyes following  
 a young girl in a short skirt.  Hey!  
 I looked too.  She appeared nervous as  
 if she could feel our attention   
 as if she wished to be invisible now,   
 away from the penetration of eyesight...   
 
 Black & white spotted dog stands  
 head & shoulders emerging from  
 a fire-engine red pick-up truck.  
 Dog's nose up into the air, ears  
 flapping in the wind, legs spread,  
 straight, secure, proud, happy.  
 
 My third cuppa coffee.  A small  
 child in the high chair in the corner  
 hammer-pounds his hard plastic toy   
 into a resonant joyous surface  
 the table of five next to me  
 speaks in a foreign cadence   
 I don't recognize, but I understand  
 them when they laugh.  
 I've sat here an hour, seen only  
 one person I recognize of  
 all I've observed and I've  
 observed plenty.  I ordered   
 food, ate it deliciously, luxuriously  
 rolled it around in salsa and as  
 the food went down, inside, so did  
 my thoughts.  
 
 I've been looking outward  
 from my resident point of   
 being.  I'm out in the world.  I'm  
 at home in the world.  Damn, there's  
 a lot of people in my world, sharing  
 my coffee-shop perch, watching  
 the theatre, the procession  
 the party of seeing and being seen.  We are  
 there, here, and everywhere  
 all at once.  
 


   95Oct30 8:17 am from Lack of Sleep
now there's and attention span and a half.  I'd have to be intoxicated in some 
way or another in order to be able to let it flow out for that long. 

   95Nov11 11:44 am from Norbus
MetaTrash (v): 
                   Throw away your trash can. 
 
MetaRudeness (n): 
                   It's rude to be rude. 
 
Metaphor (n): 
                   What's a four for? 

   95Nov11 4:59 pm from Swagman
Whoa, esoterica at it's best... 

   95Nov12 10:44 am from Angela
Swagman...how was your day yesterday and today. 

   95Nov12 6:11 pm from Swagman
Ducky, simply ducky.  I went to a wedding yesterday.  Today, I went down to 
the harbor to get my favorite sailing magazine "Latitude 38" and laid around 
all afternoon on the day-bed reading and snoozing.  Now I gotta go eat dinner, 
a modest pork sirloin roast with potatoes, gravy, cranberries, green beans and 
apple sauce. 

   95Nov14 3:25 pm from Lack of Sleep
stop it you're making me hungry. 

   95Nov14 6:36 pm from Angela
Sounds great.  I wish I was eating dinners like that.  Lately I have been
living in Jack in the Box and Burger King. 

   95Nov18 11:29 pm from Luminary Coremaster
I love Jack in the Box.  And In-N-Out is a new fast-food haven, even if it 
DOES take anywhere from a half hour to 40 minutes in line to get the food.  
It's worth it!  Good stuff.   

   95Nov19 6:03 am from Mordrak
(click) back for more, huh?  what do you want to talk about today?  that 
day? do you remember that day?  that day when i cried until my soul fell 
through the floor?  do you know what happened to me that day?  hmm?  i 
found out that i wasn't invincible like i had thought.  sad, is it not?  
oh god, that day was the worst day of my life.  bah, how could i ever 
tell you?  you are as cold as i thought i was.  try?  (pause) (deep 
breath) imagine a cold empty  lump in your stomach.  the lump just sits 
their spitting out venemous black  tar into your body.  searing tentacles 
that lash at your nerves and it seems like it's all in your mind.  you 
know why?  it was because that's all it  was.  it was in my mind.  the 
sheer hopelessness of it, the want of just giving up on life.  that was 
the worst part about it.  i didn't even want to die, because imagining 
death was even worse.  spending eternity in an oblivion with my hurt 
and pain.  i had to bite back tears for minutes at a time, only barely 
succeding each time.  i wanted to throw up that cold lump.  i hacked up & 
heaved, but nothing ever came out.  i would sit for  hours staring at the 
walls thinking about nothing.  that part wasn't too bad.   it was when i was 
thinking, that was pain.  you don't understand pain either? what the fuck are 
you?  you are what i wish i was?  good answer.  pain.... have you ever loved?  
you don't know what love is?  i'll tell you.  it's a feeling where all the 
problems of the world can go stick a fork in it. it's a feeling where 
everything was magical and everything was new.  nothing ever felt wrong and 
nothing ever felt bad.  it is a total surrender of  yourself to another person 
and knowing that made you even happier.  that's  love.  pain is knowing that 
you'll never share that love with another person for the rest of your life.  
it is knowing that you can never give out that total surrender ever again, 
because you fear what had happened last time.  pain is sleeping at nights, 
holding the one you wished you could love, while thinking about the one you 
had.  that's pain.  that's all i can handle tonight.  come talk to me 
tomorrow... (click). 
 
-howard tang- 

   95Nov19 10:18 am from Angela
Wow!  That is so cool you are able to experience that much emotion. I have 
been there totally.  I woke up in the middle of the night and knew my ex 
boyfriend was cheating on me.  It was confirmed the next day.  I thought only 
death could be a way out.  Just remember that that love is a gift that you 
have experienced and that in itself is great.  Love is an emotion that is 
wonderful but it is an emotion unto you.  It pretends to have something to do 
with someone else but it is yours and the fact that you feel that much is 
great. Every day will get a bit better and one day (soon) you will  learn from 
your mistakes or theirs and pick up the peices.   

   95Nov19 2:10 pm from Formula 409
You've got to cook those tentacles for a long time, else they are impossible 
to chew. 

   95Nov19 4:33 pm from Swagman
Mordrak, Rryntor -- which one of you guys wrote this back in April... 
 
 
 In a house where nobody laughs                                  
 And nobody sleeps                                               
 In the house where love lies dying                              
 And the shadows creep                                            
 
 A little girl hides, shaking,                                   
 With her hands on her ears                                      
 Pushing back the tears,   
 'til the pain disappears                 
 
 Mama says some ugly words                                       
 Daddy pounds the wall                                           
 They can fight about their little girl later                    
 But right now, they don't care at all                            
 
 Everyday people                                                 
 Everyday shame                                                  
 Everyday promise                                                
 Shot down in flames                                              
 
 Everyday sunrise                                                
 Another everyday story                                          
 Rise from the ashes--                                           
 Ablaze of everyday glory                                         
 
 In the city where nobody smiles                                 
 And nobody dreams                                                 
 In the city where despiration                                   
 Drives the bored to extremes                                     
 
 Just one spark of decency                                       
 Against the starless night                                        
 One glow of hope and dignity                                     
 A child can follow the light                                     
 
 If the future is looking dark                                   
 We're the ones who have to shine                                  
 If there is no one in control                                   
 We're the ones who draw the line                                 
 
 Though we live in trying times--                                
 We're the ones who have to try                                  
 Though we know that time has wings--                            
 We're the ones who have to fly   

   95Nov19 6:48 pm from Angela
All your poems are beautiful. 

   95Nov19 11:49 pm from Zeylan
 
 Mr. Dog's posts are painful to read. 
 Good, I like pain. 
 I haven't got time for the pain, 
 neither have you.  
 Kharma, they called him hyper hiker. 
 Damn; Not my dead, it must be your dead. 
 My meter's reading nothing in this area, 
 all life forms have been eliminated.  
 You've got to cook those tentacles for a long time, 
 else they are impossible to chew. 
 Come down here, Come by here  
 Not since I found you 
 I thought about it, 
 I'm hallucinating. 
 Mr. Dog's posts are precious, like little jewels, 
 like little spewels.  
 Precious is exactly the right word sometimes.  
 All your poems are beautiful. 
 
 Written unknowingly by Swagman, Wombat, Zeylan, Norbus, Formula 409, 
 Angela, Psyche, Spock, Mr. Pube, and Mr. Dog, since this room began. 

   95Nov19 11:49 pm from Zeylan
Granted, it's not exactly Pulitzer material. 

   95Nov20 12:14 am from Mordrak
swagman, twas not i that wrote the poem. 

   95Nov20 12:15 am from Mordrak
(click) i hate when you do this.  i hate when you just come in, sit 
down, and expect me to spill my guts.  the funny thing is that i tell you 
things that i never admitted to myself.  (pause)  i knew a girl who loved 
to laugh and i loved to make her laugh.  she was the most wonderful 
person i had ever met.  her name was brisa, and she was the person i 
loved most in the entire world.  she was everything that i had ever 
wished for in a person, in a girl, and in my life.  in my own selfish 
little ways, i imagined her as the most beautiful person in the world and 
only i and a select few would be able to see that.  nevertheless, she 
was... she was...the person who i loved.  in her own strange and 
neutrotic way, she taught me about how people can love and hurt.  brisa 
was fucked up in the head and the times i spent with her were trying at best.  
sometimes we would be sitting at my house watching t.v., and she would
suddenly start screaming at me and hitting me with her fists.  then without
any sign, start crying and curl up in my arms and ask me to make all the bad 
things in the world to go away.  the only thing i could do then would be to 
hold her tight and rock her gently to sleep, knowing that whatever answer i 
could give her would be a lie.  other times, we would go on great walks 
through the forest behind my house and spend the entire day running around and 
climbing trees.  brisa reminded me of an imp in this mood, because she would 
love hiding in the trees and bushes waiting to  scare the wits out of me.  she 
would spring out of some nook or other, with her cotton dress stained with 
dirt, laughing hysterically and  hugging me with all her might.  a lot of 
these times, during the walks through the forest, she would suddenly become 
very quiet and thoughtful. when she got like this, there was nothing i could 
do except wait for her to finish her thought and tell me what had kept her so 
occupied.  most of the time, she was just pondering about why the trees were 
green or why the sky was blue.  still, sometimes she would tell me about how 
much she hated me or how much she loved me.  i would always leave the forest 
behind my house feeling empty and cold, no matter which one she told me. many 
times i thought she said bad things just to hurt me, but thinking  back on it 
now, she only said what she was thinking.  people fall in and out of love with 
each other every minute of the day, brisa was just the type of person that 
would tell me whenever it happened.  (pause)  she never knew just how much she 
hurt me with what she said.  i confronted her about it one time, and she 
looked me in the eye with the most intense stare i had ever seen.  then she 
smiled and kissed me, asking me what was for dinner. (subject covers face with 
hands and begins to weep) (click) 
 
-howard tang- 


95Dec13 6:46 am from Swagman Fartness I just farted a Raisin Bran fart which would have been more perfectly performed in bed You know the kind where you quietly pull the covers tightly around your neck as if you're stretching lift your leg a half a foot or so drawing in a generous quantity of air beneath the bedding cut loose the flatulent emission drop your leg all the pungency escapes on your partner's side of the bed drenching them suddenly in primeval riparean air transporting them back to a more primitive place in the world, a world of decaying undergrowth, a world of the deep forest, a world filled with the stench of life. It was a primordeal fart perhaps the same fart made eons ago by Java-man reincarnated through my bowels it was the fart of all farts gone before But it was a mysterious fart a dry and silent fart, perhaps suitable for the desert, perhaps more suited to have come from a Gila Monster lizard or a rotting Saguaro cactus the morning before the flash floods of the summer monsoon. 96Feb22 11:24 pm from brian I like swag mans poem. I can write good poems. Like the one I did about moris lobster. It was like this. You were happy. You lived in a tank. Special tank not fish tank. You were a baby lobster. Not the kind that is red. Mori was so happy. He liked to watch and feed you. Me to. You were such a nice lobster. I wanted to feed you but mori wouldnt let me. He said you never ate fench fries. Then you got sick. And died. And I cried. And mori was sad for along time. 96Feb23 1:08 am from ThE nEwStYlE Good poem brian. Speaking of poems, this is one I wrote this morning half-awake: Rupublicans on capital hill, what do you think is society's pill?; rhetoric, good sounding speeches from support from your party, financial support from the people, seeking support from the constituency, wanting power as other peoples' guts spill? The barking of dogs are like many republicans, who do not have divine spiritual hearts, with their words to other people cast poisonous darts. But as they wrestle with issues , for fear of losing their power and securing themselves in their petty pursuits; They with impure motives cause ills; And people do not perceive the poison through the propaganda. Pat Buchanan, I hope your cam- paign falls like a sinking ship that is struck by the fire of many canons.


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