A hundred shots became a bad sonnet
gloss. So, a half-assed heroic couplet
or thirty soothes like booze, recharges juice
(iambic pentameter rare as moose) --
Maiden says, feel like I've been here before,
but bananas leave us hungry no more.
Drink me, & I'm too big for fancy glass --
one last banana to reach hanging grass.
Flora's not always sweet -- rough & ready,
'tis quite high, feeling light in my heady.
A drop from the Andes, maybe K2,
but look down below, caught velvety smooth.
Carpenter said, "here there need be monsters,"
from outer space, & dammit, no scenesters."
The hunting scene, an Old One on your wall,
impress more than that moose when fakers call.
Speaking of fake, can't be baby Triffids,
like El Cid working for Almoravids.
Is that meant for her, her or me? How rude.
We'll be on our way, & fuck you, too, dude.
Only a third, & I'm already burned
out of electrons, acid. Unconcerned.
What are twenty words to thousands above,
the gloves of puppy love shove doves thereof.
Fiddledeedee, I think my brain just cracked,
prettier in pink -- "don't overreact."
Think I'm hypnotized by that richly white
like a CEO lining joy all night.
Hold tight your paper gold while it doth last,
when Cthulhu comes, stocks are of the past.
Terrible verse has me wanting to shrink.
I'll drink, drink, be even more rinky-dink.
As long as there's bright chow, I'm fine with that.
Pretend they're cherries & end up right flat.
Freud would have a field day, so would you,
so would my poison'd corpse next to your shoe.
The Marquess & I, that is so meta.
Fastest animal on earth? The cheetah.
What a great flick, but Leon's not like this,
Halloween swanky -- damn, what rhymes with this?
Piss, sure, but only had two cups of Brewe,
badoomboom, look, what can dew do for you?
Conjure a grin, even that angry tree
isn't. Or 'tis restrained for our safety?
No matter, secure under blue sky fuzz,
hibiscus waits for an electric buzz.
Or to watch a titanic clash, spider
& bee, c'mon creeps, give something to see.
Troposphere anemone, transient
as signs hurtling through a filament.
The sign of skipping bits of misery
reads as sweet as some butterscotch candy.
I'll tell you what's not as sweet, these damn leaves
avenging Triffid snark on merry thieves.
Beats me, fishy's from the Duchess' trunk.
Whatever her excuse, I'm sure it's bunk.
The moral of the story, don't compose
so early in the AM -- hey, peace, man.
Told you, but I'm sure this New Age trucker
will kindly not call me a dumb fucker.
14 comments:
The cheetah rhymes with meta?
Come to think of it, so does the weta.
~
Graves you swine!
Roses are red
Violets are plucked
I read your epic poem
Gee, I'm fucked.
Rgds,
TG
if, poetic license, sir.
Wait till radiation mutates those suckers, though giant tarantulas would be the coolest, just ask Shatner.
There once was a man named Tengrain
who carted 'round the strangest brain
'twas that Frenchie food
booze that makes one rude
so now he chews lint on the crazy train.
Being flipped off by a cactus, LOL.
Nice pix and a pleasant field trip, but the poetry needs work. That's OK, it's summertime and the livin's supposed to be easy.
Maybe we should start sending you our photo collections so you can set them to verse. It would certainly enliven family slide show night.
tom, Arizonastan's just pissed that we have a lake and they don't.
SWA, needs work? Dammit, man, I spent a good three minutes (okay, two) on those Keats-ian lines.
susan, only if I don't have to compromise my irreverence. Oh, and a pair of tickets to a Canadiens game.
Done. As long as I don't have to bribe Canadian Customs to let you in.
botanical batteries never need recharging, they're solar-powered!
Randal Graves: Banned in Canada!
~
man, no one's going to let you visit the land of Nickelback. Bummer.
Still, these shots look pretty awesome, and no I'm not just saying that to be nice.
Your claim to fame is lame.
What no zombies running rampant in the streets?
No man eating plants for me to meet?
No cannon fire from the fleet?
(watch out Canada they're armed and dangerous)
And what no ear splitting melodies for us to greet?
Oh Longfellow Longfellow where for art tho Longfellow?
susan, why wouldn't Dudley Do-Right let me in? I love hockey, eh.
karl of the österreich, but camera batteries do!
if, fine, screw you, Canada!
thatgirl, y-y-you ain't seen nothin' yet b-b-b-b-b-b-oh crap.
Some on the first take, some (read: most) took 6 or 7. Damn professionals.
demeur, that was laureatical, Keats.
Dude, those photos - were you following me around the Smith College Arboretum??? They all look so familiar...
'Course, my pics lack even rudimentary words, never mind poetry!
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