I have revisited my creative side.
I dedicate this pome to my Sweet Saphira
A FRIEND LIKE YOU
Everyone should have
a friend like you
You are so much fun to be with
And you are such a good person
You crack me up with laughter
And touch my heart with your kindness
You have a wonderful ability
To know when to offer advice
And when to sit in quiet support
Time after time
You've come to my rescue
And brightend so many
Of my routine days
And time after time
I've realized how fortunate
I am that my life includes you
I really do believe that
Everybody should have a friend like you
But so far it looks like
You are one of a kind!


NICE Ozzie Quote

NICE Ozzie


Thanks G-Mann thought it was time i made another contribution to my thread. Quote

Roses are red
Apples are too
Who's getting laid tonight
All of you!!


love and curled toes
jade Quote

Three games were close, the last one was not,
Orlando was cold, the Lakers were hot,
Four games to one is how it would end,
A very sad day, for Gdiddy, our friend,
99-86 Lakers, was the final score,
Now Gdiddy writes an essay for one he adores,
Why the Lakers are the shit, is the first paragraph,
Why Kobe�s Da Bomb is the other half,
Hopefully Kimee will give him a good grade,
Because I�m sure he can�t wait for all this to fade.

Quote

Three games were close, the last one was not,
Orlando was cold, the Lakers were hot,
Four games to one is how it would end,
A very sad day, for Gdiddy, our friend,
99-86 Lakers, was the final score,
Now Gdiddy writes an essay for one he adores,
Why the Lakers are the shit, is the first paragraph,
Why Kobe�s Da Bomb is the other half,
Hopefully Kimee will give him a good grade,
Because I�m sure he can�t wait for all this to fade.







Quote

Glad you liked it Bart Quote

great poem ozzie!!! perfect to a T!

gmann, i will admit that was by far the best way you've ruined a thread yet Quote

Roses are red
Violets are twisted
Bend over love
You're about to get fisted

yep i'm a born romantic haha


this will be shared on my wedding night Quote

Having received a small commission from the Guild, we now continue our saga:

In mist, or on cabinent, on chassis or breadboard,
It sat for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.

"God save thee, ancient Wanker!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus! --
Why look'st thou so?" -- With my little finger out,
I drank the MAI TAI.

PART THE THIRD
-----

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something beyond the cart from Fry's.

At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sale! A sale!

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.

See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright heel!

The western wave was all a-flame
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange, sexy shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning face.

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her breasts that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres!

Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a Goth? and are there two?
Is that Goth that woman's mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
"The game is done! I've won! I've won!"
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea.
Off shot the spectre-cart.

We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip!

The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The monitor's face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the screen the dew did drip --
Till clombe above the eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogged Moon
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

The souls did from their bodies fly, --
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the static on my mexican radio!

"I FEAR thee, ancient Wanker!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.

"I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown." --
Fear not, fear not, thou Cheerleader!
This body dropt not down.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide byte stream!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I

I looked upon the rotting pizza boxes,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting chat room floor,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray:
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
my heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the net, and the net and the sky
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is a curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

The moving Moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside.

Her beams bemocked the sultry main frame,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the shock tower's huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the tower,
I watched the silly avatars:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the tower
I watched their rich bit matrix:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The self same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The MAI TAI tumbler fell off, and sank
Like lead into the clothes heaps.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------
Though great promise was shown, the funding committee again has withdrawn funding until at least the next planning phase.
Quote

And now our poet lies on his death bed, composing the last bits of his last work. Weak words captured by waiting pen. Unwilling to die too soon and to let some lesser muse complete the epic. Done in by malicious commission. Slain by overwork. Yet still able to rise one last time to the challenge:

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made :
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring--
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the PC,
Yet she sailed softly too :
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
On me alone it blew.

And the middle-aged Wanker beholdeth his native country.

Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed
The waste basket top I see ?
Is this the bed? is this the lamp?
Is this mine own pantry?
We drifted o'er the bar,
And I with sobs did pray--
O let me be awake, my God !
Or let me sleep alway.

The shot glasses were clear glass,
So smoothly salt glaze was strewn !
And on the fridge the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.

[Additional stanzas, dropped after the first edition.]

The cock shone bright, the gold chain no less,
That hangs above the cock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,
And the monitor was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
And appear in their own forms of light.
A little distance from the video in plug
Those crimson shadows were :
I turned my eyes upon the chat room--
Oh, Christ ! what saw I there !
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood !
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.

This seraph-band, each waved his hand :
It was a heavenly sight !
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light ;

This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart--
No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the sound of youtube,
I heard the sound of gonzo's gibbering;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a grocery cart appear.

[Additional stanza, dropped after the first edition.]

The landlord and the landlord's doberman,
I heard them coming fast :
Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third--I heard his voice :
It is the Hermit good !
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the apartment across the hall.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Mai Tai's blood.

PART VII
The Hermit of the Hood,

This Hermit good lives in that hood
Which neighbors me.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears !
He loves to talk with wankers
That come from a far counties.
He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
He hath a cushion plump :
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.

The grocery cart neared : I heard them talk,
`Why, this is strange, I trow !
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now ?'

Approacheth the PC with wonder.
`Strange, by my faith !' the Hermit said--
`And they answered not our cheer !
The planks looked warped ! and see those diodes,
How thin they are and sere !
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were
Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along ;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'

`Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look--
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared'--`Push on, push on !'
Said the Hermit cheerily.

The cart came closer to the PC,
But I nor spake nor stirred ;
The cart came close next the PC,
And straight a sound was heard.

The PC suddenly crasheth.
mysterious words were writ on monitor thereon
Still louder and more dread :
It reached the PC's sound card, it split the waveform generator;
The PC went down like lead.
The middle-aged Wanker is saved by the Tech's lap top.
Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat ;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's laptop.
Upon the whirl, where died the PC,
The drive spun round and round ;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

I moved my lips--the Tech shrieked
And fell down in a fit ;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the keyboard: the landlord's doberman,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
`Ha ! ha !' quoth he, `full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to type.'

And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land !
The Hermit stepped forth from the room,
And scarcely he could stand.

The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him ; and the penance of life falls on him.
`O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man !'
The Hermit crossed his brow.
`Say quick,' quoth he, `I bid thee say--
What manner of man art thou ?'
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale ;
And then it left me free.

And ever and anon through out his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land ;

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.
I pass, like night, from land to land ;
I have strange power of speech ;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me :
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door !
The wedding-guests are there :
But in the garden-bower the cheerleaders
And spirit squad singing are :
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer !

O Cheerleader! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea :
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seem�d there to be.

O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the bar
With a goodly company !--

To walk together to the bar,
And all together guzzle,
While each to his significant other bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay !

And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth.
Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
To thee, thou Cheerleader!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

The Wanker, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone : and now the Cheerleader
Turned from the gym's door.

She went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser girl,
She rose the morrow morn.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------
And with an 'ackkkkkkkkkkk', and a final rattle, here dieth the poet, at the end of his , Final Commission.








Quote

As the nation all mourns our Laureate, some controversy has arisen related to his last work. While it is clear that he created it all himself, in his death convulsions he scattered papers everywhere. New verses thus are being claimed from all quarters. We believe the following are legimate and not interpolations:

PART II
The Sun now rose upon the right :
Out of the amoir came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet drink did froth,
Nor any day for ice or glass
Came to the wankers' hollo !

His fellows cry out against the middle - aged Wanker, for drinking the elixer of good luck.

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe :
For all averred, I had guzzled the drink
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch ! said they, the rum to slay,
That made the breeze to blow !

But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime.

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist :
Then all averred, I had sucked down the drink
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such liquids to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze continues ; the PC enters the flirt site, and trolls northward, even till it reaches the favorites line.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free ;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

The PC hath been suddenly becalmed.

Down dropt the breeze, the disk speed dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be ;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the room!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the remote antenna did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion ;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

And the Mai Tai begins to be avenged.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink ;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very carpet did rot : O Christ !
That ever this should be !
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy dungarees.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night ;
The water in countless cups, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

A Spirit had followed them ; one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels ; concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan, Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no climate or element without one or more.

And some in dreams assur�d were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so ;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root ;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

The shipmates, in their sore distress, would fain throw the whole guilt on the middle-aged Wanker: in sign whereof they hang the dread jigger round his neck.

Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks
Had I from old and young !
Instead of the cross, the Jigger
About my neck was hung.
Quote

I have revisited my creative side.
I dedicate this pome to my Sweet Saphira
A FRIEND LIKE YOU
Everyone should have
a friend like you
You are so much fun to be with
And you are such a good person
You crack me up with laughter
And touch my heart with your kindness
You have a wonderful ability
To know when to offer advice
And when to sit in quiet support
Time after time
You've come to my rescue
And brightend so many
Of my routine days
And time after time
I've realized how fortunate
I am that my life includes you
I really do believe that
Everybody should have a friend like you
But so far it looks like
You are one of a kind!




*BLUSH*

Thank you soo much Ozzie darling. Muahhhh, it's lovely. Quote

THE ONE AND ONLY AMICU

Ami, Amicu or Amicu-san,
Look at the craziness you have begun,
With your love of rOOt beer and crack pretzels too,
Everyone wants to be like you,
This clOset WIDE Open is such a new fad,
When people first hear it, they think you were mad,
But now I think that more people know,
That a clOset WIDE Open's a wild show,
The things that are in them, the things that you see,
Are sometimes scary, sometimes freaky,
Since you seem to be a fashionista too,
Everyone wants your advice too,
They want you to tell them what they should wear,
They want you to tell them how to style their hair,
Ami where are you? Where did you go?
We are all waiting for a fashion show.
Quote

This I wrote a few years ago about my first sons father.

Lost Love-

Your name is like a winged dove
that carries my mind away,
Your lips are like the hottest flame
upon the touch of mine.
Your hands and fingers
always seem to know all the right times
for them to touch me,
Your eyes always find mine.
However, for now our hearts have parted
but they still remain
as one.
You will always have your life of ships and sea,
As I will always have mine lonesome and free.
If the joining of our hearts and bodies were meant to be
then to you I say:

It is not the end for endings only come in Death,
So I shall see the keeper of my heart
in my dreams and in the future,
But for now I fare him well. Quote

This one I wrote just a few months ago.....
Kinda short but sweet.



Feelings---
Restless nights are all that I see,
counting the moments til we finally meet.
Wanting to be there in your arms,
wishing it could be today.
Seconds, minutes even hours
oh the day just drags on and on.
I sit alone or even with friends
and think about all of our talks.
With each thought there is a smile or laugh,
The only tears shed are at nights end.
I wander off to bed lonely and longing to be
at your side.
In my dreams you are always there with open
arms waiting for my return.
Quote

Bumped for Kertus to find... Quote

My Angel

My angel is so bright.
What a beautiful sight.

My angel so full of laughter
Oh what a beautiful laugh.

My angel with a halo that sparkles
Oh what a personality that sparkles
My angel with a big smile
Oh how I like to see you smile.

She sparkles and gleams
She runs and she screams

I love my angel
My angel you will always be.

It�s only my angel I choose to see.
I remain on my own with my angel I still see.

I have an angel with a sparkling halo and white wings.
I begin to feel lonely and sad but then my angel sings.
Such Happiness this brings.


Dedicated to my Saphira Quote

A Nymph when as the Summer's beams
Made hot the colder air,
Into a fountain's Crystal streams,
To bathe her did repair:
And by degrees she boldly did at length
Those parts unhide:
Which to be bashful, nature made
So curious to be spied.

Oft downward would she cast her head,
And blushing look away;
Then twist her arms, and twine her thighs,
As fearful to betray
Her self unto her fearful self:
Thus frighted she at last,
Into the fountains swiftest streams,
Her purest body cast.

The waves did proudly bear her up,
And as she waded in the silver-brook,
Seem'd not to cleanse her as she swam,
But from her purifying took.
And underneath the Crystal streams,
As she did gliding pass,
She seemed like a Lily fair,
That's sunk into a glass.

And as she did her dainty arms
In sundry sort display,
Ofttimes she would Narcissus-like
With her own shadow play.
Oft would she lie upon her back:
With legs and arms both spread,
And imitate those wanton joys,
That women use in bed.

Women their modesty forget
And often lay aside;
This Nymph, that thought herself unseen,
Was by a Shepherd spy'd:
Who ravished with the sight he saw,
No longer staid to woo her,
But flung away his hook and scrip,
And boldly stept unto her.

She shrieking dived, thought to have hid
Herself, but all in vain,
The Waters to preserve her life,
Did bear her up again;
The Shepherd caught her in his arms,
And laid her on the brink,
And what he did without delay,
You know, or else may think.


Dedicated to Kalikatt: a rabid nymphomaniac in private while being a perfect angel in public... Quote

Thanks Dan, think I mite remove my lil diddy, seems a lil silly after reading these master pieces!

Quote

Ah friends of poetry, I had the good fortune to get my introduction to the power and promise of poetry during what many people have called the golden age of 20th century poetry: the 80's. (Indeed many have called this, more broadly, a cultural golden age ) Ahhh the magic that a young man could wield over equally young and susceptible ladies in those times.

To give some hint at what it was like. I'd like to recite now two epic works of the great English poet John Lillison. I will reverse the usual order of recitation to honor love over nature. It may help to imagine a bright summer's day, perfumed air, perhaps two lovers reclining under a cloud free sky, enjoying that golden age, music and laughter softly playing thru the air ...

In Dillan's Grove.
In Dillan's Grove my love did die,
and now in ground shall ever lie.
None could ever replace her visage,
until your face brought thoughts of kissage.

Pointy Birds
O pointy birds,
O pointy pointy.
Anoint my head,
Anointy-nonity.


Quote