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gaslight
03-05-2004, 06:52 AM
The Beat Poetry Thread

For those who are wondering...

Beat Poetry arose in the years and decades post-World War Two, originating in the same time period as what has come to be termed as "post-modernism" began to become a noticeable movement in art, literature, and philosophy. Beat poetry can be loosely explained through the simple analogy of post-modernism vs. modernism; a counter-culture of non-linear expressionism as opposed to adherence to conventions of high art.

Beat poetry is closely related to stream of consciousness writing and is characterised by a lack of adherence to standard formulas, patterns, and linguistic conventions (primarily grammar and syntax). Beat poetry often has a rambling feel to it but also maintains a sense of natural equilibrium with itself, the words have a certain rhythmic, however uneven, flow to them and often have a conversational register.

Notable beat poets include; Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, William S Burroughs, John Clellon Holmes, Neal Cassady, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeah. I am pretty sure there are a number of people on this board who already have/will soon realise they have a connection or at least interest to this style of writing.

So this thread has a few points.

1) Introduction to beat poetry for those who need an introduction to beat poetry.

Useful + interesting site (http://www.charm.net/~brooklyn/LitKicks.html).

2) Provide a thread in which you can discuss beat poetry and it's relevancies to music (you will find many bands that utilise a lyrical style similar to beat poetry.)

3) Write and share your own beat poetry, which you may not feel like posting individually.

*Declares this the beatnik hang-out of the S&L forum.*

LknChikn
03-05-2004, 08:32 AM
Interesting, but I'm still a little confused. I did a google search and came up with some "lyrics" that looked like random words put together. If applied with a beat, wouldn't this be the same as modern rap or hip-hop?

Or am I totally off? Maybe you could post some lyrics up.

atabner
03-06-2004, 03:46 AM
Yeah, a link to an example would be great - I've got something that I wrote that was really disjointed, I decided to use it as a plan for a song, but from the sound of what you've written, it might do as a song in itself!

gaslight
03-06-2004, 05:45 AM
Some examples from the writer's above mentioned.

(Also, Rage Against The Machine have performed an Allen Ginsberg poem live; Hadda Be Playin On The Jukebox.)

Here are some other examples though.

'Pictures of the Gone World' - Number 8

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

It was a face which darkness could kill
in an instant
a face as easily hurt
by laughter or light

'We think differently at night'
she told me once
lying back languidly

And she would quote Cocteau

'I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say
'whom I am constantly shocking'

Then she would smile and look away
light a cigarette for me
sigh and rise

and stretch
her sweet anatomy

let fall a stocking

'I Have Folded My Sorrows'

Bob Kaufman

I have folded my sorrows into the mantle of summer night,
Assigning each brief storm its alloted space in time,
Quietly pursuing catastrophic histories buried in my eyes.
And yes, the world is not some unplayed Cosmic Game,
And the sun is still ninety-three million miles from me,
And in the imaginary forest, the shingles hippo becomes the gay unicorn.
No, my traffic is not addled keepers of yesterday's disasters,
Seekers of manifest disewbowelment on shafts of yesterday's pains.
Blues come dressed like introspective echoes of a journey.
And yes, I have searched the rooms of the moon on cold summer nights.
And yes, I have refought those unfinished encounters. Still, they remain unfinished.
And yes, I have at times wished myself something different.
The tragedies are sung nightly at the funerals of the poet;
The revisited soul is wrapped in the aura of familiarity.

Point Lobos: Animism

Michael McClure

It is possible my friend
If I have had a fat belly
That the wolf lives on fat
Gnawing slowly
Through a visceral night of rancor.
It is possible that the absense of pain
May be so great
That the possibility of care
May be impossible.
Perhaps to know pain.
Anxiety, rather than the fear
Of the fear of anxiety.
This talk of miracles!

Of Animism:
I have been in a spot so full of spirits
That even the most joyful animist
Brooded
When all in sight was less to be cared about
Than death
And there was no noise in the ears
That mattered.
(I knelt in the shade
By a cold salt pool
And felt the entrance of hate
On many legs,
The soul like a clambering
Water vascular system.

No scuttling could matter
Yet I formed in my mind
The most beautiful
Of maxims.
How could I care
For your illness or mine?)
This talk of bodies!

It is impossible to speak
Of lupine or tulips
When one may read
His name
Spelled by the mold on the stumps
When the forest moves about one.
Heel. Nostril.
Light. Light! Light!
This is the bird's song
You may tell it
to your children.

There are some examples for you guys, but beat poetry is heaps varied so don't see those as definitive.

:thumb:

gaslight
03-07-2004, 02:49 AM
Everyone hates beatniks... :(

TrailOfTragedy
03-07-2004, 09:52 AM
'I Have Folded My Sorrows' is great! I enjoyed it more than other two, I guess because the words and imagry appealed to me more.

"The tragedies are sung nightly at the funerals of the poet" - my favorite line.

Hey gaslight, is this also a thread for people to post their own??

Thevermiciousknid
03-07-2004, 01:18 PM
great thread idea gaslight, i always had taken a liking to beat poets, bob kaufman is awsome, my english teacher says he's seen him. If i get the chance i might post some links to beat poetry websites :thumb:

gaslight
03-07-2004, 02:54 PM
'I Have Folded My Sorrows' is great! I enjoyed it more than other two, I guess because the words and imagry appealed to me more.

"The tragedies are sung nightly at the funerals of the poet" - my favorite line.

Hey gaslight, is this also a thread for people to post their own??

Yeah man.

TrailOfTragedy
03-07-2004, 07:31 PM
Would you mind starting it off?

peepo
03-07-2004, 09:48 PM
errr quit jivin me turkey!

gaslight
03-07-2004, 11:52 PM
Would you mind starting it off?

If I get around to doing some I will but really anyone can go it.

gaslight
03-12-2004, 06:03 AM
Fine I'll try some...

7:30 every day
Walk blindly down the same street and in mirrors
See from the sidewalk and from shop windows
And in every reflection there is a different
Way of being and in every reflection there is the exact same thing

In a coffee shop I can see a man sitting
In the same place he sits every single day
Sipping his coffee like it's an antidote to his somnambulism
And when he speaks he talks as if to say
That his life is already over
And has been from start to finish a hundred times before
And he knows every thing that went wrong and every way
He could fix it
And everyway that everyone else could have been less obstructive
And if it weren't for genetics he could be everybody

There were no paths left
Without footprints in wet concrete
And somebody says aloud
"What a city we live in," and they sigh and reflect
That everywhere we go someone else as been before,
Evidently as soon as possible,
And there is nowhere new for us to go,
And that everything has been done before,
And that if anything, we are following the same old tracks
Worn into the ground since we first started walking and wearing
Only with new layers upon layers that obscured what went before
And our lives have all been run a hundred times before
And our lives are already over

*Blinks. Shrugs.*

pixiesfanyo
03-12-2004, 06:50 AM
would you guys consider "where the circle ends" by thursday beat poetry?

gaslight
03-12-2004, 06:51 AM
I was thinking of that one actually, when I was going to relate it to modern music, but I wasn't sure if I would be correct.

I've heard Radiohead lyrics described as beat poetry, and yeah, to me, that song does seem to have qualities of it.

Spikey
03-12-2004, 01:29 PM
ah, I love Jack Kerouac! hm I tried to write some beat poetry once, but it's bad and crap.

mitchellspider
03-12-2004, 04:04 PM
Gaslight was that your own piece? That was full of thought and truth. I could see each line being spoken and the expression of the speaker. Thanks a lot for introducing me to beat poetry and for posting yours, i thoroughly enjoyed it.

That everywhere we go someone else as been before,
Evidently as soon as possible,

That line got me thinking. To me it seems so humbly honest, if that makes any sense?

And if it weren't for genetics he could be everybody

I have seen people around my area who must think that exact same thing, probably not so poetically but in their eyes it seems like they believe that statement.

Yea thanks again and id love to hear more of your own stuff

cheers gaslight

gaslight
03-13-2004, 11:49 PM
Yeah it was, I just kind of wrote in about five or ten minutes :confused:.

I'm very glad you liked it, thanks :).

I wish more people would start to post some stuff though.

TrailOfTragedy
03-14-2004, 09:18 AM
I'm going to try to get around to writing one this afternoon.

UnderDawg
03-14-2004, 07:38 PM
I don't really understand what beat poetry is, I mean I read the site but I'm still lost as to what it actually is....

TrailOfTragedy
03-14-2004, 07:39 PM
Pretty much (if I'm not mistaken, gaslight should probably be answering this) its just stream of consciousness writing.

joshmay
03-14-2004, 07:50 PM
thanks so much. i love you! great thread. :-* *studies beat poetry for several hours now. really*

joshmay
03-14-2004, 07:55 PM
ive been pondering it and i think the key is not to think about it while you write. overthinking it destroys it.

joshmay
03-14-2004, 08:03 PM
i just wrote one, and while i dont know if its in the right classification, i tried, and i had a great time doing it.

its called For Us.

the same is what was
nothing perseveres like materialism
flows
seeping, sopping, drippity dropping
and all the while the caged bird sings

you
you tickle me
the ins and outs, you know me
nooks and crannies-all mapped out
take that now, take what you know. for that-
that is something that not enough of us use efficiently

advice is commonly perused
while literally it doesnt do enough

cringe, yesterday. leap tomorrow!

for us.

:D thats it. comments and crits well appreciated. i think i might have just entered a new stage in my poetry. i knew it was coming, i just didnt know when. ah who knows it may just be an outlier.

gaslight
03-14-2004, 09:50 PM
^ Exactly man.

And yes - the whole concept is that it is free expression of thought, check out this, a guide to spontaneos prose by Jack Kerouac.

http://www.english.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/kerouac-spontaneous.html

And some quicker quotes on it.

Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition

Telling the true story of the world in interior monologue

And if you're curious, an excerpt from one of his books.

http://www.english.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/onroad.html

Dancin' Man
03-15-2004, 09:15 AM
I'll try

Sick Day

So I sit and I think
And it's 11 AM
And my head set on "burst"
Obviously there's something wrong
But the trick is finding out how
How it's wrong wait now it's gone
When it's back I'll be back with more to tell
But at the moment I'll live my life
And wait to go back to hell

joshmay
03-15-2004, 03:03 PM
yay @ gaslight. i have been slowly developing into this style on my own before i knew what it was, glad to know it has a classification now. i just write what is, throw rules and regulations out the window. it can become abstract at times... i will post one i did sometime ago and you tell me if IT is beat poetry...:)

joshmay
03-15-2004, 03:14 PM
found the poem. its called "whim on!" to really understand it, think of the audible sounds (or lack of sounds) that punctuation makes when read aloud. i dont know if this is even traditional enough to be beat poetry, but i just wrote what needed written. like always.

whim on!

,,,!,,,!,,,!,,,!
-(-(---)
. - - -
,,,!,,,|,,,!,,,|

flow-

-go

:!;;!:!;;!
\_/-\_/-

h - er...e!

t--h^e
re


-----&----
¡EVERYWHERE!

.,'";:[{

UnderDawg
03-15-2004, 04:31 PM
Run with the pie
Watch it fly by
Splatter on the wall
All over the hall
BLueberry, cherry
Apple, strawberry
On my face
All over the place

OK maybe something like that?

provenA3
03-15-2004, 05:33 PM
there's no more light on the street this time of night- there's a
piece of plastic on the street that is much much to sharp.
and it reminds me of me-
lying broken in the street-
like a knife.
like a needle.
and the ice is not invisible.
but its been colored by so much grey that it faded away.
and it all appears the same waiting for the next mother****er on a bicycle
to find the icicle and slide into a signpost and pop a tire on
a piece of plastic in the street that is much much too sharp.
and it reminds me of me-
lying broken on the street-
like a knife.
like a needle.
and a blue light screecher is calling my name...


this is a little too coherent for beat poetry but its pretty close and I thought it was the perfect place to post it. Great thread, nice to see something different. Cant forget hip hop though, anybody who likes this kind of thing should check out atmosphere. Download scapegoat and love life, (and then buy the CD, dont be a cheapass). Crits are welcome

joshmay
03-16-2004, 07:59 AM
*snaps fingers*

TrailOfTragedy
03-16-2004, 12:46 PM
Dragging my feet as I walk I scrape my pen along the dirt and kiss the breeze that beckons me
I find the neartest branch and the sharpest thorn and sit beneath the shade and declare myself a king
Crown of thorns, shadows cast horns, I've come to save all that will listen with this pen
I'll spell out salvation in the dark and illuminate your heart with my neon halo that reads 'Welcome'
This is the place to stay and I shall never close my door if you're willing to listen
If you're not afraid to hear my story
A story about love and dragons and a king who gouged out eyes because he couldn't bear to watch his love leave
But his love didn't leave, you see, and he found once more
Crucified to a tree, and he said 'I love thee', and kissed the feet of the bleeding meat
Everyone come and take a piece and call it his body but don't forget to bring a pen to write a lovely thank you card
It's all he asks, I'm sure, is that you leave him with a parting gift
A smile, a wink, and a warm gesture here and there as you watch him hanging and crying
He's not Christ, this is not about salvation or heresy, just open your mind and see your inner-self
Your lack of understanding is what is dangling upside down and by the feet
Blood rushing to your head, eyes swelling, your face goes red and you blur out
If you rock back and forth silently enough you'll just sound like a twig in the wind...mellow...calm...forgotten...God bless





As a whole it may suck, but I think it is a good example of beat poetry...I just sat there and typed, not really thinking :thumb:

Thevermiciousknid
03-16-2004, 01:04 PM
the last one was really well done, lemme have a go:


"move past me" remarks the the thousand demons shimmering at the end of her smoldering cigarette, a smoldering dream.
yeah, we knew each other once, but train tracks threw us apart, and the rusted hinges couldnt roll again, again across fields.
the fields, places where smiling fawns through blankets over our eyes, when we did move past them, and the thought only of their dance.
so in love they were, with the clapping of hoves, on the hills, laced with the earthy musk of your unlit ashes, of my innocence.
but like the sun, innocence had its brother, the moon and naivety, and that was when brush fire took our fawns, took them.
now they refuse to dance "not with the sun in our eyes" they demand, not with smoke in our lungs.
coughing, you slip me a note, crinkled as my soul, lashed by tormented lonliness, left were windy sidewalks start.
the letters can't spring, broken ankles, doctor's trips leave them lifeless, like you, and oh so many cigarettes.
coughing, you fake a smile for me, "we were young". ya, but it doesn't mean we danced with someone elses' feet,

does it?

there, thats all i got
.....i wasn't even thinking, my eyes were shut the whole time

TrailOfTragedy
03-17-2004, 07:56 PM
bump...this thread definitely needs to stay at the top and I'll have another beat poetry entry by this time tomorrow night.

Jigglypuff
03-17-2004, 08:17 PM
I love Beat poetry and I try to free-associate sometimes (writing) but it's not as easy as it looks. It requires quite a large vocabulary and flexibility, or else you wind up repeating yourself over and over with no forward movement.

The key really is not to think - improvised poetry is done subliminally.

joshmay
03-18-2004, 04:14 PM
^true, true. its a challenge, indeed.

gaslight
03-20-2004, 01:05 AM
Hehe hell yes the thread is working.

:cool:

Bit of a bump here.

pixiesfanyo
03-20-2004, 06:18 AM
a bit of a what? bump? :thumb:

TrailOfTragedy
03-21-2004, 09:31 AM
Who said bump??

joshmay
03-22-2004, 07:24 AM
did i just hear someone say "pmub" backwards?

TrailOfTragedy
03-22-2004, 09:32 AM
now, I'm promising I will post another today :p

Thevermiciousknid
03-22-2004, 04:36 PM
cant wait mr. trail, i liked the other one very much...i'd like to hear you read though, that would be awesome...with some old guy with his double bass and another jamican guy with bongos or something

TrailOfTragedy
03-22-2004, 05:14 PM
And I'll make this final my stand my greatest with three rounds to the head
Another two the chest, and soon you'll fall dead
Marching through the winter's forests an army of nameless, faceless ready to die
Ready to bow to my every whim, indeed, they'll die this night
Our final stand, in the snow, in cold blood and snow boots, for a lover's heart
I shall gladly slaughter every new born for your love, or the love of someone like you
I shall march an army for you, in the rain, and in the snow, and beneath the sun
I'll bomb the stars right of the sky and I'll pierce your flesh with a firefly to illuminate the scars in your eyes
Everything glows red and gold for you tonight, in the fold and behold, you're in a different kind of light
Hopped up on love and snorting the dust of crushed angel wings, a mass of Heavenly Kings help me fight for your affection
Raped by the beast of this dramatic love scene, I'm brought to my knees as my heart is washed clean
Scraped of all the smiles, injected with lies from the silver barrel
My time to suck it up and take it like a man to see one more smile across that pretty face before I shove it through a window

mitchellspider
03-22-2004, 10:50 PM
Two and two are
formed in the mindless ramblings of incoherent slumber
never to remain whole
neither to fall apart
to change
is now little more than a footnote on the memoirs of human existance
why adapt
when surroundings are altered at the click of a
buttoned down formality

where once sat the mind now sits this
blind instablity
lurks behind a representation of the heart
felt cries of the wanderer

in compacted prose meaning is expanded ten
fold your clothes
pack your bag
re enter the artistic exhibition of grey
mono
toned down

mark your territory and revert to sleep
for irish eyes smile without comprehension
to the unaware
a rose
a rose
by any
other name

TrailOfTragedy
03-23-2004, 06:43 PM
BUMPer to BUMPer Driving!!

WhatILivefoR
03-23-2004, 07:56 PM
ignite the flames of passion inside,
for i promise this is all i have to say tonight.
a hounded point of existence is all i've ever found,
and i've seen the likes of the very edge...
"come feast at my banquet," he says, allowing us to cope with what we have,
or to say goodbye-
and remain nameless and blessed outside of death.
take your pivot as you move up and down the stairs of the saga we take our very breaths in.
your's and mine, our silhouettes stare blankly on toward another direction.
what if it was to be the right choice?
you are hit like another shot of vodka, that intoxicates to the drinker's death. it deadens the toll, just to reap it's ugly benefit.
they laugh at this comedy;
but you are ashamed, because this comedy -
is your sanity.


eh, whatever. I love beat poetry though.

joshmay
03-24-2004, 11:11 AM
very nice stuff. i really like this thread.

Thevermiciousknid
03-24-2004, 04:04 PM
the work on here is in many ways much much better than all the lyric stuff
maybe it has to do with the whole "free your mind" stuff that gaslight is talking about

TrailOfTragedy
03-24-2004, 06:33 PM
the work on here is in many ways much much better than all the lyric stuff
maybe it has to do with the whole "free your mind" stuff that gaslight is talking about

So...do you like my second one?

joshmay
03-25-2004, 10:48 AM
i like all of your work alot. how about my second one, the experimentation with punctuation?

TrailOfTragedy
03-25-2004, 12:48 PM
If you're referring to Whim On!...it messed with my head, dude. I honestly couldn't follow it:(.

joshmay
03-25-2004, 02:23 PM
:thumb:

well it is meant to just be a mood poem...what general word describes it? and im sorry if it wasnt true beat poetry. :D

Thevermiciousknid
03-25-2004, 03:15 PM
TrailofTragedy: I thought the ending to the second one was so awesome, as was the rest. Did you read any of mine? was it any good?

TrailOfTragedy
03-25-2004, 07:02 PM
the last one was really well done, lemme have a go:


"move past me" remarks the the thousand demons shimmering at the end of her smoldering cigarette, a smoldering dream.
yeah, we knew each other once, but train tracks threw us apart, and the rusted hinges couldnt roll again, again across fields.
the fields, places where smiling fawns through blankets over our eyes, when we did move past them, and the thought only of their dance.
so in love they were, with the clapping of hoves, on the hills, laced with the earthy musk of your unlit ashes, of my innocence.
but like the sun, innocence had its brother, the moon and naivety, and that was when brush fire took our fawns, took them.
now they refuse to dance "not with the sun in our eyes" they demand, not with smoke in our lungs.
coughing, you slip me a note, crinkled as my soul, lashed by tormented lonliness, left were windy sidewalks start.
the letters can't spring, broken ankles, doctor's trips leave them lifeless, like you, and oh so many cigarettes.
coughing, you fake a smile for me, "we were young". ya, but it doesn't mean we danced with someone elses' feet,

does it?

there, thats all i got
.....i wasn't even thinking, my eyes were shut the whole time



Don't know about the cigarette references...just doesn't seem, I don't know, right?

"yeah, we knew each other once, but train tracks threw us apart, and the rusted hinges couldnt roll again, again across fields."

Definitely my favorite line.

"but like the sun, innocence had its brother, the moon and naivety, and that was when brush fire took our fawns, took them."

Good stuff too :)

TrailOfTragedy
03-26-2004, 12:20 PM
bump this shizza, yo!

TrailOfTragedy
03-27-2004, 07:48 AM
We need more input into this thread, people!!! Hopefully I'll have another up by the end of the weekend.

gaslight
03-29-2004, 07:20 AM
I will be posting something later tonight.

It's a shortcut to getting my English Extension Assessment done :p.

gaslight
03-29-2004, 07:39 AM
This isn't sure enough
The way we move in the air
It makes me clutch at my chest
And doubt gravity

Sure enough
We align ourselves between the flight paths of telegraph wires
And dotted lines on highways that pattern this city
Streetlights that hang their heads low
And weakly collapse their light onto cracked pavements
As our footsteps fade
And every dying footstep takes a person with it

Somewhere, sure enough, redbrick walls are bathed in grey
And beneath an attic window there's a room that you've seen in your dreams
And even if romanticism is nothing but the fantasies of lonely minds
Logistics state both that it must exists and that you'll never know for sure

Short but I'm tired...

TrailOfTragedy
03-29-2004, 12:38 PM
Gaslight, that was nothing short of amazing! I'm turning this into a competition of sorts:p. My next one will, hopefully, top yours, hehe.

gaslight
03-29-2004, 04:34 PM
It might even beat mine.

:amaze:








I'm very sorry.

lulled_clone
03-29-2004, 04:37 PM
:thumb:

well it is meant to just be a mood poem...what general word describes it?

crap



quite possibly the poorest excuse for poetry I have seen here so far.

Are you trying to trick us into thinking you're artsy or something?

TrailOfTragedy
03-29-2004, 05:16 PM
And that is quite possibly the most unnecessary and most idiotic post I have ever seen. Let's see your input into this thread, shall we? And if you looked at Joshmay's other postings(songs for example) they are very, very good. Very original, creative, and deep.

He's just having a little fun, so leave him alone. You are the exact reason why I should be allowed to carry a gun:).

TrailOfTragedy
03-29-2004, 05:16 PM
It might even beat mine.

:amaze:








I'm very sorry.

Ahahaha. Good one...







:lol:

pixiesfanyo
03-29-2004, 06:00 PM
3rd grade had just finished
I walked home from school
with my care bear doll against my side

I met Christie in the park near my house
Wandering around as we began to talk
About the episode of power rangers on

And then with a endearing phrase
My breath was taking away
she said "It's a beautiful day isn't it?"

and i began to say "Yeah but.."
but was cut off with..
"Why ruin it?"


..i don't know if it is beat poetry or not..

joshmay
03-29-2004, 10:28 PM
thank you very much trail :D

too bad he saw through my plot of posting metrical punctuation to get people to think im artsy! *drats, now how shall i achieve my plan of world domination?*

[/evil laughter]

and yep, i have to say that guy is, if not an idiot, very immature and uninformed.

:-* to all my lyrical buddies, i love you all :)

gaslight
03-29-2004, 10:35 PM
This thread did pick up pretty nicely over time :thumb:.

Pixiesfanyo, I don't see why it wouldn't be.

lulled_clone
03-29-2004, 10:58 PM
thank you very much trail :D

too bad he saw through my plot of posting metrical punctuation to get people to think im artsy! *drats, now how shall i achieve my plan of world domination?*

[/evil laughter]

and yep, i have to say that guy is, if not an idiot, very immature and uninformed.

:-* to all my lyrical buddies, i love you all :)


pfff just because I don't like your poetry means I'm immature.

I thought gaslight's was good, I didn't really like Thevermiciousknid's though.

I mean honestly, what were you trying to accomplish with that puncuation poem of yours?
all it was was "flow, go, there and everywhere" with a lot of puncuation marks.
you could have at least attempted to write something slightly poetic, or used half-words or sounds or anything besides some line taken out of a grade school poetry assignment. Ultimately that poem has no soul to it, and that is why it is bad, and that is why it seems fake (poserish).

WhatILivefoR
03-31-2004, 11:00 AM
The Face of Masochism

he burns
like rhetorical statements that you don't understand
he seizes your face by the other's demand.
you build your own pyre, stack the stones up so high-
the provoked fuel inflames, engulfing the sky.
memory of melodies saturate your thoughts
and past grudges blister the mercy you sought.
insolence, not innocence, has brought you this end
he stares twisted, the deviant guise he bends.
too many times have you been victim to his lure-
and now; now he is laughing with utmost rapture.
your skin is screaming, but not louder than your heart
though silently you wish you could take back your part
"too late, it's too late!" he murmers in your ear
his whispers become your screams- it's the only thing you hear
it's flowing out from in you, your life spilt before the flame
your lungs churning from the toxin though they try, could not tame.
the smoke in your mouth quickly scalds your tongue quiet
the others heard the words, but they refuse to buy it.


it's not really finished, but there you go
-bek

joshmay
03-31-2004, 12:23 PM
pfff just because I don't like your poetry means I'm immature.

I thought gaslight's was good, I didn't really like Thevermiciousknid's though.

I mean honestly, what were you trying to accomplish with that puncuation poem of yours?
all it was was "flow, go, there and everywhere" with a lot of puncuation marks.
you could have at least attempted to write something slightly poetic, or used half-words or sounds or anything besides some line taken out of a grade school poetry assignment. Ultimately that poem has no soul to it, and that is why it is bad, and that is why it seems fake (poserish).


well i appreciate your opinion more, now, but the poem was to convey a sense of mayhem and movement, and if you notice the patterns in the punctuation, but yet how they constantly change, and then the way the words seem like they are running away from you as you read them, i feel it establishes a mood of being on a new york city sidewalk during lunch hour.

thats just my interpretation. no need to be so harsh if you disagree.

TrailOfTragedy
03-31-2004, 01:15 PM
These wings are made of construction paper and duct tape
Suspending me high above my pain with piano wire and razor blades
Flying, soaring, over the fantasy worlds in this makeshift fairy-tale
My happy ending comes with slit wrists and a bloody love to call my own
Bombard my world with tears and valentines full of day old chocolate
I knew your love could never be fresh and new...
But I don't hold that against you...
Marching on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on
Will we ever stop? Or will we continue to climb for our highest peak in which both of us are smiling?
I don't ever think we'll see that sun, or sleep beneath that moon because we're too different
You're life
I'm death
Although we go hand in hand we could never be together...

TrailOfTragedy
04-01-2004, 01:12 PM
the wall
the fall
earth came crashing down
with a bump!!

:)

Thevermiciousknid
04-01-2004, 04:25 PM
i havent checked this in ages, and the wonderful poetry just keeps tumbling in. I have been working on post modern poetry on my own, and i'm posting some of it (seeing as its all about 10 lines), although it might not really count as beat poetry (gaslight, does it?)


shimmering veils, that are hands
or formally clenched fists
if you knew them
unjeweled
would you still give them life.
dark coats in closets,
are carcasses from the feast
filled with the stuff of all-
the wolf's milk,
suffered onto the two trojans
who arms ached for her patterned fur.
but they were simply being
fattened

thats one, if it counts, I'll do another

TrailOfTragedy
04-02-2004, 12:52 PM
'nother bump, I should have another entry tonight. HOPEFULLY.

lulled_clone
04-02-2004, 08:21 PM
well i appreciate your opinion more, now, but the poem was to convey a sense of mayhem and movement, and if you notice the patterns in the punctuation, but yet how they constantly change, and then the way the words seem like they are running away from you as you read them, i feel it establishes a mood of being on a new york city sidewalk during lunch hour.

thats just my interpretation. no need to be so harsh if you disagree.

ok, but isn't New York loud and busy.. I wouldn't think "flow" and "whim" describe it very well, but I guess I could see how the punctuation could create a feeling of chaos... but quiet chaos.
It seems like it would be better if you used that to describe a scene where everyone is unsettled or startled or offended or something, but no one says anything about it... like maybe if a preacher said something offensive during a sermom, but no one wants to say anything about it.. (you could use the poem to target the close-mindedness of a certain religion... and how no one says anything for fear of being labeled as a non-believer or something like that.. I don;t know)





meh, it's your poem

joshmay
04-02-2004, 09:00 PM
i love you now! :D

you put into words what i was trying to say...haha. an uncomfortable shifting...yes. i couldn't describe it like i wanted to....you did. good job.

TrailOfTragedy
04-03-2004, 05:21 PM
Bump, **** not being able to have time to post another!!

gaslight
04-03-2004, 06:17 PM
If anyone missed it, Joshmay is our new mod.

Beatnik Party

:chug:

Thevermiciousknid
04-04-2004, 02:30 PM
congrads, and a bump

Neocaeczaristic
04-04-2004, 02:40 PM
I write beat poetry.

It looks better on paper than in real life,
The story of my life,
Cut this message with a letter knife,
Lord,
You've put me through so much strife,
So many interludes,
And stop-start patterns,
All these hidden clues,
That drag out and flatten,
Dim the lights so I can see the river flow,
Praise you with my lifeblood,
If I could only be allowed to grow,
And you and I, we have the kind of silence,
That begs no applause and feeds no violence,
To soothe the aches in eyes of those who've been trying,
Too long,
Tired of dying,
Being reborn just to hear,
The angels chanting the same songs,
Strutted in the gardens of lordlings,
Caught the breaths of pixies,
And the strangest things,
Of these I sing,
Of these I've heard,
When all your fairytales come true,
Don't waste me, doll,
I'll be waiting,
If not for you,
I'll smile and pretend I do,
I'm good at that,
I know you know,
Stories chatter,
Phone calls interrupt,
I'm drunk on words, yet I can't think,
Relocate a single vowel,
Split ends tore to make a point,
Leaving souls disemboweled,
Crawled out from under rocks was my style,
Now we travel,
To a different end,
A different need,
To a thoughtless start,
A sprouting seed,
A circle of friends should be like a shrubbery: close-cropped and ornamental.

The sparrow comes flying in whispers,
Of wisps in the willows,
And squalls on the crystal pond.
I am the superfluous subterfuge that blankets your rhyme,
I am clouded in message,
Accusation,
Unholy,
Has splintered will call now,
And sing us a song,
What ran,
Stakes,
Along,
In hours of oceans in eons of sleep,
Will plan out erratic and fall on its face,
And clocks in these poems,
Like plastic produced,
Misguided, misused,
Like lies where they fused,
This young here be old,
Come on, cane down and look at me,
Spectral like a land claim,
I am veiled in scorn.
Static pastiche in kitsch,
And blue-eyed is wrong again,
These murals are songs again,
When the new here comes back,
And the new spirit fades,
In juke joint bars,
And castle yards,
Prefix this threat with a valentine,
Suffix this blessing with a knife.
Fatal all I ever was,
In times of turmoil,
Alliances of passive stance,
And tuned the war drum,
Pitched in graves,
To make up a hymn to rally the slaves,
And stake them high on cerebral lies and celebrity names,
To raise the common to credited streets,
And golden sidewalks stare again,
Shut the **** up and sit the **** down,
Drains lurk freeways,
Skies too much,
So just look to the ground,
Hope will engulf itself,
But that and oxymoron,
For hands of strength to shelter you,
And lights of life to guide you,
It's written in blood upon the tabloids.

TrailOfTragedy
04-05-2004, 01:54 PM
we're only one bullet away from making the front page
we could be the Romeo and Juliet of the 21st century
poison replaced by bullets and swords replaced by guns
TV monitors arcoss the nation can watch our public display of affection
gather the family round, folks, for something you won't soon forget
one kiss for me, one kiss for her, and two shots to the head
pass the round and then the body bag
let's play russian roulette and blame our deaths on cupid
rest your head on my shoulder amd I promise everything will be alright
maybe I can catch the ricochet of your shot and won't have to watch you die
let's throw caution to the wind and our heads to the side
backlash never looked so appealing as it does right now
rest in peace beautiful, I'll see you in Heaven

Thevermiciousknid
04-05-2004, 03:14 PM
one I used for my english project (my teacher brought in his bass and played it while i read, too cool :thumb: )


whispering through cocaine, to dribble
slurred, unheard words on the mushrooms
that sprout from the
dark moss that litters the said rocks

or had they been said, or chalked into places
where the beady eyes of a inquiring wander can look

"by god! he has no feet!"

thats right, says the man with no heart
and they ponder, swirls of their own pain
rise into a crushing waze, thats slides
out, into a sea of contempt

he can only lie, binded with his lacking
while a blue reminds him who led to his
death, one that was also held into place
but not yet by the chock

"how can these skyscrapers hold themselves up?"

well they don't, its the borrowed money and
ashes, that stirred will be a cloud
one we rememeber as fish n chips

unallowed, when pieces of coloured glass, shatters,
lines the bowels of the empty heart
they will replace life
so that our feetless shapes, curved
shall rely on our growing
enthusiasm

for our lovely mushrooms


good day :wave:

joshmay
04-05-2004, 03:26 PM
what kind of bass did he play along with it? i might be interested in doing some stuff like that...:)

Thevermiciousknid
04-05-2004, 04:06 PM
it was a fender p-bass, and he was just playing some jazzy stuff, i think, but im not quite exactly sure, it was in the key of D minor...it was kind of like stray cat strut

joshmay
04-05-2004, 04:21 PM
yeah, i meant the style of playing :)

thanks though. i am guessing that you just do some nice walking improv.

Thevermiciousknid
04-05-2004, 06:29 PM
he played a jazzy walk, i think halfway he just started hitting a d over and over, then went back to the walk

he was definatly feeling the vibe...(does funky hand motions)

joshmay
04-05-2004, 06:37 PM
awesome.

i figured one could do some little fast fills at the end of certain lines, for emphasis. :)

TrailOfTragedy
04-06-2004, 12:34 PM
I'm going to buy mongos for micious' idea:)

joshmay
04-06-2004, 01:58 PM
mongos? you mean bongos? i play bongos/djembe in a band. i love ethnic percussion. would go great at a poetry reading too :)

Thevermiciousknid
04-06-2004, 04:32 PM
i begged the music teachers to let me borrow bongos for my presenatation, but the cool music teacher (a jazz artist) wasnt there and so she wouldnt let me use them. :upset: I thought trail was talking about mangos, not bongos, goes to show how tired and blind i am. :p

...although mangos likely could be used as an instrument..hm..... :rolleyes:

gaslight
04-06-2004, 09:04 PM
^ A guy in my Extension English class used bongos in his presentation :lol:.

He read a few lines then would hit them, and at the end went nuts hitting the bongos and the whiteboard.

joshmay
04-06-2004, 09:20 PM
great great fun, my friends :)

TrailOfTragedy
04-07-2004, 12:37 PM
bongos, huh?

I feel so stupid:(

TrailOfTragedy
04-08-2004, 01:48 PM
Anyone have anymore?

I promise I'll have another by late tomorrow:)

gaslight
04-08-2004, 09:22 PM
Sure I'll bust another out tonight or something, in 12 hours or so :).

Viva la this thread.

Thevermiciousknid
04-09-2004, 11:08 AM
i have some more i just have to rewrite them, after trail and gaslight post theirs, I will put up my own

TrailOfTragedy
04-10-2004, 12:05 PM
Just post 'em, man, doesn't look like I'll be getting mine up soon.

TrailOfTragedy
04-10-2004, 08:40 PM
Written in the place of a young, depressed child.

I can't stay in the lines with this worn down crayon when you're not around.
I begin to sweat and worry and my hand starts to shake.
I drew a pretty picture for you today.
Of a child drowing in a lake.
Look how happy he is holding his breath and not even trying to live.
His face matches the color of the water, and look, I stayed in the lines.
Sometimes I feel like this boy and just want someone to cover my mouth.
Or kidnap me and then hang me outside with their laundry.
You and daddy just keep hollering and smashing things and I can't sleep.
My eyes are so heavy that I want to just duct tape them down.
And duct tape my mouth and nostrils and sleep my final sleep.
This final picture that you see. Will be the last you see of me.
I'm so young and have seen too much.

Thevermiciousknid
04-11-2004, 09:11 AM
awesome trail! i'll go look for mine and post 'em...

Thevermiciousknid
04-11-2004, 09:26 AM
here is version of some of mine, i tried writing while my friend played bass and found it coming out easier, you should all try

sly and tampered, small empty eyes bubbled over
the edge, rising in disfigurement to the surface
the embience of quiry.

It sits shyly out at sea, where it recoils from the dashes of sand
under umbrellas, the suburbs sit,
a vacation of unhappiness, and wandering eyes, that
find the new sight of young flesh

of these many eyes, only few are open, others
dorment of their colour, sit in peach, or light brown
and allow puppets to dance in an odd off black
the few alive look out across the world, held to high above

the unspoken anger spoils as drifting oil, crushing
strangling the ugly birds that traipse the soft waves
only two eyes wonder, they shake and arouse the
others, who roll back over

confidence grows, and yet in sinks weeping under the sea
pulling the sea into a dynamic swirl,
where the twisted mind is straightened

the few eyes, the lonely gray, and the light blues
are disillusioned, aren't they.
come back to sanity, the water is still fine
and you may swim once more

but the sea is a shallow grave
she holds the shadow in her depths,
and it smiles, and shakes with the awesome presence
it remarks, murmers, whispering, over and over:
I will be here. I will always wait.

(waiting for gaslight's..........)

TrailOfTragedy
04-11-2004, 09:41 AM
*stands up and claps*

That is by far, micious, your best piece yet. It was truly beautiful.

but the sea is a shallow grave
she holds the shadow in her depths,
and it smiles, and shakes with the awesome presence
it remarks, murmers, over and over:
I will be here. I will always wait.

where the twisted mind is straightened

This thread isn't even a month old, but you can definitely see a change in your work. And its a change for the better:)

Thevermiciousknid
04-11-2004, 09:52 AM
well i have english this semester, so i have been changing my poetry, i like post modern alot now (not much typing, <--i am lazy) and that reflects in my longer prosey poetry...anyway

thanks a lot man! ( i did mean to put the last line in italics, i think i will do that now...)

WhatILivefoR
04-11-2004, 03:05 PM
I hate thinking of you.
(I hate trying to analyze you.)
I hate premonitions.
(I hate trying to analyze this.)
a dog is barking, and who knows what has happened to disturb the silence.
(the silence is maddening)
something is out of place.
(I am out of place.)
I wonder if dogs have a sense about when something is going to happen?
(that would make two of us.)
what if I was to die tonight?
(except, I am really just alone, and waiting.)
am I ready?
(waiting for nothing.)
am I afraid?
(something’s growing in the back of my mind.)
who would be the last person I thought about?
(You don’t deserve my last thoughts.)
what would be my last words?
(you don’t deserve my last words.)
but after all, my last words would fall and soak into the ground.
(my last words would seep into the ground with my tears.)
have I done all I want?
(I wish I didn’t feel like apologizing again to you.)
of course not.
(you will just strike me down again.)
how could I ever prepare for an end that is so final and so defining of myself?
(that’s right. go to sleep.)
what would I be remembered as?
(it doesn’t mater, you wouldn’t remember.)
the stuttering kid who can't think straight or look you in the eye?
(the one who tried, but you shot through the heart.)
is that really wrong?
(and now I’m dead.)
If I were to die tonight, would you come to my funeral?
(I don’t want you at my funeral.)
Would you even cry?
(I can’t see you wasting your breath on the likes of me.)
Why do you hate me so much?
(you don’t even know my name anymore.)
I hate premonitions.
I hate thinking of you.

I'm not sure if this would be considered beat poetry....?
but I just kind of....wrote it.
I liked yours, Thevermicious :thumb:
-bek

Thevermiciousknid
04-11-2004, 05:56 PM
whatilivefor's reply marked the 100th in this thread, i think its celebration time! :D

(dances for awhile until he realizes he's an idiot and that no one riverdances anymore)

TrailOfTragedy
04-12-2004, 01:01 PM
but half of the posts aren't even poems.

Hey! Like this bump!

Thevermiciousknid
04-13-2004, 02:52 PM
thats true, more posting of poems, less bumping!
(quietly)
bumping...
(softer)
bumping...
(merely a whisper)
bumping...

might be an echo in here?

Thevermiciousknid
04-15-2004, 03:40 PM
here's one i just thought up, i pray it isnt too bad.....pour little dots,

for the old kings
he is now lined himself up for yet
another go, he's just as cracked and faded as the last match
yet the sun strip plaza has taken his children
and so he's batting for the moonlight

a popped thumb forms
the tiny creases for him
as he wars with the creaking box

two other queens line his
basement, where he keeps his court
he'll choose their tap dance
so that
under his tiled floor they can swing

wallpapered grafting rays
are the final dashes of light,
before he slams the screen with defeated fists

-the knid

rest_in_pieces
04-15-2004, 05:10 PM
im guessing this can be classed as beat poetry?

Echoing footsteps rung out.
No-one was there,
The pain was all yours now.

Given by one man and received by another,
Where did it all begin?
Lie there and wonder.

Wading through smoky air, take a look at your watch.
Too early for some, too late for others.
Too late for you.

Not far now.
Street lights and shattered glass paved the way.
The door was in view, but in view is all it will ever be.

From the night came another.
His shadow painting the wall in black.
He will break you to make it for himself.

It had treated him unfairly.
Morality a thing of his twisted past.
Now it is time for you to become a part of that past.

He had followed you. And he had you now.
Cracked up against the wall,
Shout out. Nothing.

Slide to the ground,
Look down at yourself.
Its all seeping away.

Even if you had them, they would mean nothing to you now.
Pockets and insides turned out,
Your dying vision is the door.
Can't even watch as it fades to black.

TrailOfTragedy
04-17-2004, 09:40 AM
I know a lot of my work has to do with murder/suicide/love/hate/etc. And this isn't any different. But this my best example of poetry, me thinks. And I also feel it is my best work.

I sit here and describe my epitaph to the poet to my right
I tell her I want to be remembered for who I was not what I am
"Lie," I say if it allows but one person to remember my eyes
Or the smile I always wore, or the words I always spoke
I believe in mine own heart, this poet will write a great epitaph for me
Her eyes glint a glistening gold and her fingers move with such fluidity
For a split second I imagine how beautiful it would be for her to die with me
I dissolve the image from my mind, and allow her to keep writing
Writing and smiling, smiling and writing, she's so beautiful
"I must lie to her," I think to myself, "I must!"
I build myself up, build myself more than the highest king
I build myself up more than the most divine thing
I continue talking, and she continues writing
Her hair looks so lovely in the candle light and smells of summer
A breath of fresh air in this torrid, desolate winter
The way her eyes scroll the page and the way the pen glides
I realize this is the last person I want to see me before I die
I place my hand upon hers, and I lift her to chin so our eyes meet
I whisper, "no poet has ever graced me as you have"
She returns, "it could never be, you have such little time left"
I smile, "then won't you join me with a bullet in your head?"
She reveals the derrenger from beneath the table and kisses my hand sweetly
"I thought you'd never ask," she hinted and then killed herself discreetly

TrailOfTragedy
04-18-2004, 10:13 AM
:) -- bump

Icaruslotff
04-26-2004, 07:16 AM
ECCLESIASTES OF THE NEW GENERATION

I want to be a patriotic American
But my faith in the flag has been shattered
Because I see the truth, which does not coincide
With the newspapers and history books.
I want to be a member of the Beat Generation
But even though they were my literary peers
They did not live the way I believe is right
Though I agree with their politics.
I want to be a Buddhist
But I cannot believe in the absence of a soul,
Or a God, or a reason for living.
I want to be a Christian
But even though I agree with the theology,
I do not agree with the spokesmen
For they have sold their souls to the world.
I want to be a transcendentalist
But I cannot believe that I could be God
Or that all men are good.
I want to be an Indian or a Jew or a Black
In order to share with their pain
But I discovered my life was depressing enough.
I want to be a Rastafarian,
But Haile Selassie is not God
Nor will he ever be.
I want to be a Yuppie,
Because I was born in a small hick-town
But the love of money holds no lure to me.
I want to sit underneath a green tree
Underneath cloudy/cloudless/sunny/wet skies
And wonder how many angels can dance
On the pin of a defused hand grenade
But such a life is wasted
I have dipped my toe into every lifestyle
But they were all acidic to my tender heart.
But look! A tear from each pool drop
And created a new pool.
I shall call it Golnaptiod
And it shall be the new generation.
Golnapitoids at heart, unite
Those who understand what I say
Those who feel the sorrow I feel
Those who are sick of the world
And seek a haven until heaven
Unite.
Enter Golnaptiod.
You will not be turned away.
No discrimination

Thevermiciousknid
04-26-2004, 04:00 PM
yes someone has resurrected the the sleeping beast, let the beat boys/girls reign again!

Thevermiciousknid
05-06-2004, 05:25 PM
okay so the last attempt didn't work out so well, but no one seems to care. Anyway, joshmay advised me to find this and bring it back...so i brought it back
(bring it back)
(bring it back)
-the knid
(ps gaslight, and trail need to help keep it alive, where are you o gaslight...?)

gaslight
06-03-2004, 07:10 AM
Shuffling like skeletons buried under autumn leaves
Between red bricks, huddled and watching,
Terrified of change and judgement
And of lines in the sky that spell out in their infancy;
"Happiness and confidence are the most common of all human delusion,
Speak now before you sentence yourself to peace
While wars are waged around you,
And the only sign of conflict is when you trip your own devices
To trigger your demise and sink among the drowning."

Creaking again they are the floorboards in their own hallway,
Walls that witness nothing and hold perfect conversations;
Speaking only when spoken to with silence.
In a way none of their makers have ever conceived because
In the transition of architecture to monuments everything is but
A casualty in the pursuit of beauty and the denial that perfection
Is beyond the works of man, who is only capable of facilitating destruction.
(However slow it may be )
You cannot build stillness, and that is where it all went wrong.

And standing still under skies of tinted glass,
Veiled in the reciprocity of seasons
They are still waiting and watching in fear of cause and effect
Beneath lines in the sky that spell out in their death;
"The conclusions you are so proud of are what we told you along,
When you were so proud not to listen, and wasted your lives
Trying to arrive back where you started.,
If only you could have been happy with being anything less than your own God."

And only in death will they realise their own cause and
Be still, witness nothing, hold perfect conversations of silence;
The last casualties of the war they waged against themselves,
Which could only win itself;
( however slow it may have been)
You cannot build stillness, it can only build itself
And all attempts failed before they began.

gaslight
06-03-2004, 07:20 AM
Icaruslotff I thought yours was real cool mate. Made me smile.

pixiesfanyo
06-03-2004, 02:58 PM
Gaslight your beat poetry pwns! :)

Thevermiciousknid
06-03-2004, 08:43 PM
he returns and brings back wonderment

Dr. Cruces
06-04-2004, 06:19 AM
Ok, so I had a go even though I'm not sure yet, what exactly qualifies as beat poetry. This is straight from the heart any way. So straight in fact that I'm not sure what the **** thing is about. Anyway, here goes.

Ramble ramble ramble on
Can't seem to stop when I look into your eyes
Your perception pierces my most primitive of desires
Your eyes recollect the falling of the tide
When and why or what and who
All I've ever seen fades into oblivion
Patterns form without any thought as though consequence was non-existent
The tunnel that stretches out, concoction of trail and light
I walk I run I crawl, if only to experience
Crimson, the colour of our time
Lips part and air escapes. forming words and speaking truth
I loose myself in this mysterious slumber as if calmed by the planets
Speaking more for the sake of noise
Speaking more without any choice
Decision has been made and comes from your throat
When it hits me I start to melt
Finding out an answer to the question I never dared to ask

jimmy_hall
06-04-2004, 12:51 PM
one I used for my english project (my teacher brought in his bass and played it while i read, too cool :thumb: )


whispering through cocaine, to dribble
slurred, unheard words on the mushrooms
that sprout from the
dark moss that litters the said rocks

or had they been said, or chalked into places
where the beady eyes of a inquiring wander can look

"by god! he has no feet!"

thats right, says the man with no heart
and they ponder, swirls of their own pain
rise into a crushing waze, thats slides
out, into a sea of contempt

he can only lie, binded with his lacking
while a blue reminds him who led to his
death, one that was also held into place
but not yet by the chock

"how can these skyscrapers hold themselves up?"

well they don't, its the borrowed money and
ashes, that stirred will be a cloud
one we rememeber as fish n chips

unallowed, when pieces of coloured glass, shatters,
lines the bowels of the empty heart
they will replace life
so that our feetless shapes, curved
shall rely on our growing
enthusiasm

for our lovely mushrooms


good day :wave:



Jesus. That blew me away.

Just read "On The Road" by Jack Keurac. Inspiring to say the least.

jimmy_hall
06-04-2004, 12:58 PM
Cedric Bixler is a great beat lyricist. Read the lyrics to Invalid Litter Dept. and you'll se what I mean.

joshmay
06-04-2004, 01:14 PM
Jesus. That blew me away.

Just read "On The Road" by Jack Keurac. Inspiring to say the least.


that blew me away too. AMAZING. i would SO want to hear a recording of this! is there ANYWAY AT ALL you could do that for me? i'd be eternally indebted to you.

and what is that book like? i just might have to get it.

Thevermiciousknid
06-04-2004, 06:40 PM
geez, its off like a rocket this thread,

here's one thats a different version of a four stanza style poem I did:
( I dont know what to really think of it)

as a penalty and a judge,
the cardboard phantasm breaks
spiraled ultimatum at hand, a pearl spike falls
in waning the peaks are tainted with thrill
the silvery hills wed in laughter

feverish, in factory lines, an heiress of archives
this junta of industral October rain,
dwells
malleable soul of dissonant camps
first blush will reject itself to pass
perennial, but thin, air is toxic
with the memoirs of last fog
it’s ridiculous, that
razor call of a messenger past,
roaring can less of a genocide than the
lazy blades of dull, soft steel

gravitas and hefty, acceptance is
windows choke with London air
dead air quickens, albeit its end
archaic mines have eroded south
caressed gently, by cavern embankments
forage for angelic savor of generous cups
levy for exotic luxury shunned in neo-ore
decipher said voguish bedlam
we can skip as we meander around empty phone lines

enveloping, drifts ecstasy
billowing haze ascends cellophane head trips
irenic stones roll in dazzling,
sunshine
from shoulders
when melody steps lightly, corrodes blissfully the earth

the astrol cavorting mime, and his child/son anchor
are left to pray to the wind
and I get to stand parallel,
and shatter them with a soliloquy and a hammer

Thevermiciousknid
06-04-2004, 06:42 PM
ps, joshmay are you talking about a recording of "On The Road" because I think ages ago I spotted one somewhere on the net, I wish i could remember what it was again...

gaslight
06-04-2004, 07:01 PM
On The Road is a good book, so is The Dharma Bums are other books by Kerouac.

On The Road is being made into a movie, I hear.

Thevermiciousknid
06-05-2004, 09:48 AM
really? do you know anything about directors or something?

gaslight
06-05-2004, 09:55 AM
Well, it is a matter of chance whether it gets made or not.

I found an article just tonight; http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2004/04/16/bfcop16.xml

Thevermiciousknid
06-05-2004, 10:00 AM
francis ford coppola!



oh this will be great



that is if its ever finished

jimmy_hall
06-07-2004, 12:27 PM
This is for JoshMay... you can get the book on Penguin I do believe.. for a small price of 6 pounds... I'm not too sure if that's is of any relevance.. as you may live elsewhere.... but it's out there.

Thevermiciousknid
06-08-2004, 02:58 PM
you can get it on amazon, or chapters/indigo, its a fairly famous book.

gaslight
06-10-2004, 02:53 AM
Stand your ground; it takes a death
To close a movement and make it whole.

[Societies are paragraphs,
People are the letters that comprise them:

Singularly, they are meaningless forms
That must bind together to construct their own meanings,
And through eachother they justify themselves.
Collectively, they are meaningless forms
That are shaped into frames and constructions
Where they can draw from eachother a meaning to their existence;
And subsequently fall as victims to the delusion
Of individual worth and no matter how they arrange themselves
They will never last forever and always be forgotten,
But don't tell them that, they like to believe in themselves,
After all, nothing else will.

And when syntax errors arise at right angles,
We shred them all and start again.]

Like the class of Kent State,
Resistance to resistance is overwhelming by majority,
With revision through borrowed shotblast punctuation.
As a product of social conditioning is the belief
That the threat of another is directly proportional
To its deviation from the cultural median
And the effects of the response must be inversely
Proportional to the threat itself.

Once a social construct is formalised through indoctrination
No further input is neccessary on the part of the controlling body.
Once set in the right mould the entire societal structure
Can be expected to become autonomous and self-regulating
Through a procedure of glass walls and glass ceilings;
Maintaining the illusion of freedom by creating limitations of expression and action
That are kept within safe levels, with any further descrepancies
Activating the inbuilt socio-cultural killswitch and the system cleanses itself again
And noone even blinks
Noone even notices,
And even if they did, they would say
We do it for our own good.
And if they opened their eyes at the scene they would see
The evidence they left themselves all over their walls,
Etched out in papercuts;
We kill by correspondence.

Thevermiciousknid
06-10-2004, 02:28 PM
gaslight that was brilliant, i especially liked the first society paragraph, people as letters idea. Very deep, mature....man you're good!

gaslight
06-15-2004, 07:26 AM
*Eats chicken.*

Hold up, just finished some scribbling in notepad.

Yeah.

Everyone's A Fraud Except You

Still through eachother they will justify themselves,
And in their purge they will cleanse away
All they see that stands behind them and themselves,
For they are the only ones who have come this far,
All else is weighed down and infected with the contagious
Rot of oil and machinery that are the scars of their construction.

"Take up arms and prove yourself, everyone's a fraud except you."

Make no mistake, they march to war;
They have plotted out in schematics the collapse of everything
That stands upon another

And their every footstep is a gunshot each time ringing closer
To their aim;
To find the start of all this, and destroy it.

And their every footstep is a gunshot that rings in circles
Around themselves;
Circulating through and pulsing into fresh wounds.

And their every shadow is a gun barrel
Pointed at the head of Socrates,
As they hunt the last of the simulacra,
From the shadows of self-reference.

"Tell us who has brought this on our world!"
And with a dying breath; "It's you yourselves."

gaslight
06-16-2004, 04:48 AM
With a sigh
We handed you the pieces
Of a lie that's been told
A thousand times before
With it you can build what you will,
A new lie for yourself, for yourselves
For one more time's sake

And if you think we handed you this package
Not knowing what's inside
Then you deserve all you get
When the monuments you build to yourselves
Collapse into singularity

But act now, because for a limited time only
We can make you more than what you are;
Give yourselves over to us and we will help you reinvent yourself,
Deconstruct what you are and reconstruct to fit your latest plans.

And don't forget that we have read the scripts we gave you,
Stacked every deck and staged everything so that you think
You might just be a danger to the way things work,
But if we have all the pieces do you think we'd give to you enough
To get away with destroying it all?
We left you only enough to destroy yourselves.

gaslight
06-16-2004, 05:06 AM
It's someone else's turn now.

pixiesfanyo
06-16-2004, 11:40 AM
Pie is God...

*bows*

Thevermiciousknid
06-17-2004, 06:09 PM
God is Pie...

*bows*
*trips*
*crawls away shamefully*

gaslight
06-20-2004, 05:25 AM
*Eats pie.*

gaslight
06-22-2004, 08:14 AM
Sup guys... keep it moving.

Thevermiciousknid
06-22-2004, 12:10 PM
here is a jack kerouac piece titled 211th Chorus, from Mexico City Blues

The wheel of the quivering meat conception
Turns in the void expelling human beings,
Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nits,
Mice, lice, lizards, rats, roan
Racinghorses, poxy bubolic pigtics,
Horrible, unnameable lice of vultures,
Murderous attacking dog-armies
Of Africa, Rhinos roaming in the jungle,

Vast boars and huge gigantic bull
Elephants, rams, eagles, condors,
Pones and Porcupines and Pills-
All the endless conception of living beings
Gnashing everywhere in Consciousness
Throughout the ten directions of space
Occupying all the quarters in & out,
From super-microscopic no-bug
To huge Galaxy Lightyear Bowell
Illuminating the sky of one Mind-
Poor! I wish I was fee
of that slaving meat wheel
and safe in heaven dead

he's so good

Thevermiciousknid
07-05-2004, 08:03 AM
bump

joshmay
07-05-2004, 09:33 AM
jack kerouac is AMAZING.

Thevermiciousknid
07-06-2004, 10:45 AM
that he is.....
(another bump...)

joshmay
07-06-2004, 11:49 AM
would you recommend a specific title, a good collection of his poetry?

Thevermiciousknid
07-06-2004, 12:08 PM
geez...I would just recommend reading his novels...which are really well written..You can probably find a collection of his poetry on the internet. If you want a book, I've looked but haven't found one...although I'm sure it exists somewhere. Amazon probably has one or something.
His novels are just so poetically written and thats what I love about them...(On the Run, Dharma Bums, and Mexico City Blues are my favorites. )

gaslight
07-06-2004, 12:31 PM
On The Road* :p

I second it man Kerouac's books are pride of place in my collection. Nearly, kinda. I dig it.

Someone should get around to writing some more beat poetry :).

Thevermiciousknid
07-06-2004, 12:51 PM
I think everyone's kind of obsessed with the haiku now, seeing as it doesn't take long to write..

gaslight
07-06-2004, 08:41 PM
What you say is true.
I mean, how long must this take?
I'm done already.

Thevermiciousknid
07-07-2004, 08:34 AM
haha

willtheworm
07-07-2004, 09:14 AM
Condemned

Your fake plastic faces
Looking through the truth
See what you are told
This must be right
Man vs. man
Bliss in your ignorance
Why are you there
Want to tear you out

Tormented deep suffering
All towards you
Weak are picked
The stupid win

Detest you. Disgusted. DEATH AT NIGHT.
Roaming. Rancid. RUN FROM HOODS
Danger. Destruct. NOBODY GIVES A
Rage. Hate.
война. guerre. War. Krieg.
De oorlog. guerra. krig.

Thevermiciousknid
07-07-2004, 05:12 PM
война. guerre. War. Krieg.
De oorlog. guerra. krig.

what....? :confused: is that war in different languages?

willtheworm
07-08-2004, 03:13 PM
what....? is that war in different languages?

yer, its war in different languages

Thevermiciousknid
07-08-2004, 04:55 PM
ahhh...what language is "de oorlog?"

TrailOfTragedy
07-08-2004, 08:49 PM
RESURRECTION!!! I haven't been in this thread in ages, wow. I'm back in, fellas ;). I have another name, though, i_hate_this_city so just know...it's me.

gaslight
07-09-2004, 12:27 PM
Hehe man that's crazy, one of the lyrics to a song my band plays is "The land erodes, and I hate this fucking city..."

EDIT: Yeah it was on the last page. lol

Thevermiciousknid
07-09-2004, 01:09 PM
I think my eyes have passed over that before, but it might have been marginally different...hey! trails back!

TrailOfTragedy
07-10-2004, 04:34 PM
I'll have a poem by tomorrow night, yo. I'll throw it in this spot.

jimmy_hall
07-11-2004, 03:19 PM
Ive been writing for a while, but this is my first attempt at beat. Have a look.

They are held by the relentless strain of over-paid lobby-dwellers
The high and mighty are
Nothing but a figment of reality's imagination
"That's true", said the heartless philanthropist
"Loquacious" said the being with a lost identity
"You ponder on thoughts of self-pity, profound to say the least"
Never has such a degrading statement left the entrance of the omnipresent gust of wind which keeps the contraband perspiring


Equal
One could say
To the ever-degenerating postal worker, delivering news of turbulent times once passed
A mirage of hope, naive impulses, yet furthermore consuming
Could one captain stop the fax from its useless creations?
"Never", said the green-eyed monster monitor
Even lamented facts on this seven track notepad of needless remarks

A culmination of dust-filled air sacs, defined within the toxicity of the stellar remarks of once great heroes
Fruiticious relations captured with regards to the resentful persons of which make the masses seem alluded to the event
One of which has passed
The condensation says "Goodbye, cruel world", as it leaves the glass to join the pool of phased out lunacy, forming the basis of it's futile resistance
Ready
To sink
Or swim

Thanks.

gaslight
07-11-2004, 03:24 PM
Nice :).

jimmy_hall
07-11-2004, 03:28 PM
Thanks. It seems so natural to me. It's quite frightening actually.

Thevermiciousknid
07-12-2004, 07:21 AM
that was really really awesome...

Groves,
haphazardly placed, boundless bookmarks
the pine branches, that mushroomed out
a specter of natural plague

In that analytical memoir
that businessman: white and gray still photo
of me in the final home of winter
the grove could only but be wheelchair bound duck eggs

Cartier left me one coveted wish
and I myself, was Atlas with the pannier
to allow the papyrus page numbers to be a repitition of each one before
with the ho hum blue ink of that
one wish

it couldn't be the halted Chinese army
nor could any one poet/activist/thinking biped
every manage to be ambidextrous in their enterprise
or allow the dissonant chains
to rattle to a single note
and thus
lay the wish down

jimmy_hall
07-12-2004, 08:37 AM
That was great. Somelines in there were especially amazing... "every manage to be ambidextrous in their enterprise" was brilliant. Nice work.

gaslight
07-12-2004, 08:43 AM
it couldn't be the halted Chinese army
nor could any one poet/activist/thinking biped
every manage to be ambidextrous in their enterprise
or allow the dissonant chains
to rattle to a single note
and thus
lay the wish down

I thought that was rather awesome.

Thevermiciousknid
07-12-2004, 09:43 AM
thank 'e kindly ma'rm

TrailOfTragedy
07-12-2004, 08:26 PM
As the pitter patter of the child echoed throughout the hall,
And all the cracks and scrapes were highlighted in the wall,
I began to think and ponder. Wonder aloud. Think and ponder.
Before every sunset there has to be a sunrise,
And for every truth there has to be a thousand lies,
I begin to ponder. Think aloud. Wonder and ponder.
Walking through the woods with stones cutting my feet,
A girl's silhouette appears and leaves a smell oh so sweet,
Pondering and thinking. Talk aloud. Talking and wondering.
Before the birds can hum and my heart can skip a beat,
I must first realize what it is to sleep the sleep,
I dream and hope. Praying out loud. Praying and dreaming.
This is the end, the end of my line,
I know I've had a very pleasant time,
But nothing can take away from the beauty I remember,
Of that one eventful night, in the middle of December.

TrailOfTragedy
07-14-2004, 10:41 AM
bump

gaslight
07-14-2004, 10:52 AM
^ Nice one.

I tried to write one just then but nothings coming out tonight.

Thevermiciousknid
07-26-2004, 06:57 AM
interesting and cool poetry trail, I like how you rhyme every so often..

...i lack inspiration....

pixiesfanyo
04-19-2005, 01:11 PM
bump.

Corupt2057
04-19-2005, 01:50 PM
I'm kinda shady on the idea behind beat poetry still even thoguh I read up on it but if this poem applies check it out if it doesn't my mistake

Scars of Memory

Moments of regret and scars of memory,
Fraught thought and taunt misery.
A tangled web of countless scenes,
Battering silence with endless dreams.
Who indulged every passive second,
Pleasing every desire that beckoned?
Time sweeps in its perpetual flow,
Writing history to all we know.
Provoking pain on a far gone feeling,
Providing sorrow that prolongs healing.
Flashbacks bursting in the air,
Painting scenes of despair.
Cries of forgotten laughter,
Only seem to trodden after.
Watching life stain the mind,
Through a portal lost in space and stuck in time.
Never regretting the pain and misery,
Reminded by these treasured scars of memory.
To have loved and adored you more,
Now amazed by two when once bored with four.


It's about my two uncles that died and I have two left..