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For our little stable of questionable poets to versify upon. Concepts, themes, ideas, questions, whatever you want. Post in the comments and I'll reply with one verse of 4 or 5 lines, when the spirit moves me, and the next person can tack on a 4 or 5 line verse, and we can see what comes out of it. Others can start their own root verse or add to the one I begin. It's not a contest, just light fun. It can be serious, silly, positive, insulting, profound, mundane, confusing, morbid, scientific, current events, history, satire.

This can be fun.

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All is fair

in love war and debate
As long as the rules of logic
Rational discourse
Intellectual honesty
Play by the the rules
And there aint no problem
If you lose you lose
But if you break the rules
Impinge the ethics
You are no better
than an aggressor
Abusing trust, language, definitions
Common bonds of interaction
Expectation of reciprocation
Not straw man and equivocation
I need none of that in my conversation
And don't miss those
To whom I've lost patience
For their vagrant
They've gone out of the fray
But I welcome them back, merely as friends
Which is much more than I can say
For sparring partners
Got better things to do
Than pin down a jellyfish
With a ballpeen hammer
With a blind fold on
In the dark
When I'd rather be
out in the park
Or writing verse
For those who hark
To knowledge
Gleaned by honest
Thanks for your understanding

jrd3820's picture

Upvotes Downvotes All Around Votes

I try to upvote Bill as often as I can
It’s a losing game in this downvoting man’s land
I get downvotes for saying I upvote Bill3
I wonder why that would make one so angry

Upvotes downvotes all around votes
They all say they don’t care
That is not true because they often cry and glare
At the little red arrow facing down by their name
Most of them lie when they say it causes them no pain

Please be aware

Let everyone note
I've not given Bill3
A single downvote

Though it's not an election
I'd still consider it aggression

egapele's picture

I speak the same tune

Let us all be immune!
Do not fall into the abyss of an ignorant dune

I was reading a story about a captain on a ship,

A trip. Before I new it I was biting my lip in pain.
The same pain I felt when I found I would never see you it again.

these hands, that cover these eyes, they lie and they hide, for what seemed like forever. And never let me know pain.
The same pain I felt when I found I would never see you again.

And I went in to the music world to get out, without a shout,
no motion in the heavyweight bout I knew I'd have to face.
No place to go, no words to show the pain I dealt with.
The same pain I felt when I found I would never see you again.

it chased me, like a roasting turkey in the oven it basted me,
everywhere I ran I found it hounded me, pounded me into the ground with every word and every breath,

And death didn't seem to far away,
And I could have been dead already, and heavy became my eyelids, and they put bids on me to see that I wouldn't survive, stay alive, boy were they surprised when I showed up on their doorstep.

With you on my shoulder,
and colder and harder over time I grew,
and farther and farther over the edge I flew, and that pain grew too.
the same pain I felt when I found I would never see you again.

And I went in to the city, to get high.
on a train or on a park bench.
and I had no dough, and I had no flow, and I had no bread... And I couldn't have been worthy

but moving for jersey to conquer my demons, I grew and became the man you see today, even though they had the nerve to say what they said...
Cuz in my head I loved them anyway.

And then it happened.

So quickly, it was masterful, like Dick dastardly, sneaking up on Penelope, she could couldn't see or hear him sneak up on her,
And when I turned around and you looked in my eyes,

Well there you were.

And that pain, that pain I say,

That pain I say,

that pain I say I felt when I found I would never see you again...

it went away.


Why are there no poems about robots?

Or electric can openers
Which are not as good as digital ones
And more likely to become self-aware
And attack you while you sleep.

Pandas eat bugs.

Michael Nystrom's picture

Here's the first

About a panda
Not a robot
but a panda

Yours is gutsy
It doesn't rhyme
That's a clever way
To save time

But look here Chris!
Take a see
I dialed into a thread by jrd
And instead of a story about the Voyager
Up popped a picture of an alpine fir

No -- excuse me, it wasn't that
I just wanted to rhyme and scat

Just let me show you what I saw
Not one, but two
Big fat Pan-dah!

Chemtrails and Peanuts

Chemtrails, chemtrails in the sky,
Causing our countrymen to die!
My sperm-count is low, I'm losing my hair,
I'm weak in the knees---I blame the air!
Each passing plane rattles the bones,
A deadly gamble, says Alex Jones.
Just who is behind this awful mess?
Let's get to the source, forget the rest.
Some men, looking beyond the mainstream news,
Discern in all the hands of the Jews,
But this is too simple and isn't quite right,
Besides, who ever heard of Semites named Wright?
Those guys from Ohio, I mean to say,
Who rigged wings to a bicycle and flew away,
These inventors of flight (the birds aside)
Over all those American deaths preside.
Check out the patent, it's somewhere online,
The brothers devised something far from benign;
The wings of the plane contain razors minute
That cut the air as it flies en route,
Working just like a household fan,
Or so I learned from a Korean man,
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fan_death )
Breaking the air into smaller parts,
Unusable to the body, for all its arts.
Our men become impotent, our children feeble,
It is America's greatest plague since the boll weevil,
The insect that is mostly to blame
For the end of cotton, the South's fame,
And led, by the way, to peanut-farming,
Since the weevil was accustomed to cotton-harming.
Cotton, in ways, resembles chemtrails,
Fluffy and white, neglecting the details.
Here is the question that I shall raise:
The South grew, in the place of cotton, peanuts;
What shall we breathe in the place of air, peanuts?



"I'm Ron Paul." - Ron Paul


Chemtrail peanuts
mashed to goo
Patent it and slap it in a jar
sell it in Walmart
you silly foo'

Maybe mountain

maybe mountain
something bigger
harder, faster
like a river
maybe desert
maybe ocean
hotter fire cools in motion

(your turn)

There is nothing strange about having a bar of soap in your right pocket, it's just what's happening.

I know its my turn uncle smudge

Do not tell me when to go
I'll go when I'm ready
Don't need your nudge

Piss down a mountain
into a river
Top of the mountain
balls do shiver

watching my fountain

lips a-quiver
lousy accountant
frequent giver
of bad advice
lover of vice
will this heart of ice
ever be pelted with rice?

“With laws shall our land be built up, but with lawlessness laid waste.”
-Njal Thorgeirsson

I believe it will

o, lover of vice
but only in some states
but don't use rice
it makes the birds choke
and laugh sometimes
besides, guys aren't into that
i mean rice, not choking.

one ego be stroking

your pulse it quickens
one image evoking
your mind it sickens
incessant joking
your skin it thickens
be crowned the joke king
and the choker of chickens

“With laws shall our land be built up, but with lawlessness laid waste.”
-Njal Thorgeirsson

Michael Nystrom's picture

Bill3: "I'm a poet, and I know it. (hope I don't blow it)

Not that you have to riff on this, but your thread reminded me of this little ditty by Bob Dylan called "I Shall Be Free #10." That's where the quote above comes from.


Oh, I should go tell that kid who's doing a report about this reference to Barry Goldwater in the song:

Dylan mentions how he would never let Barry Goldwater marry his daughter. Goldwater was a ultra-conservative Republican politician who ran for president in 1964, losing to Lyndon Johnson. The line is a clever twist on the stereotypical conservative father who objects to his daughter dating a left-wing, hippie-type. Dylan also mentions “farms in Cuba”, a reference to the nationalization (i.e. confiscation by the state) of the American-owned farms by Fidel Castro, a major political controversy around the time Another Side was recorded.


Thanks for the free fun, Bill. We need it. Things seem a little dead around here. I saw your outline on creating the anarchistic system here. Good work. I'll see if I can get the magician on it so we can crack the doors open on the Ark.

Thank you, Michael

But I'll decline
To mine this rich vane
For any lines

If Dylan's daughter
Had birthed a son
To a Goldwater
Earth would have sung

To a political Dynasty for the ages
Folk liberty, Dylan-Goldwater
Had much fun
Avoided much slaughter

The sun did not rise
On that great promise
Left us instead a Kennedy corpse
And an age of violence

Michael Nystrom's picture

I realize this is not a jam session

But with the reference to Kennedy
I could not but help but post this lesson


Wearing the fame like a loaded gun.

egapele's picture

Holy Jesus, Shona Lang

I breezed through many miles in my brand new Honda CRX listening to her back in the early 90's.

Oooh I'm glad I'm not a Kennedy

It's a jam session, of a sort

If it's not boycotted, you may retort
We will have to wait and see
Or I'll change my name to jrd

That's a great song I say
I didn't know Rachel Maddow could sing that way

jrd3820's picture

It's a poetry jam

A poetry slam
Bill three is the poetry man

He should not change his name to jrd
Because then who would be Bill3?

But if I steal your user name

All will *bump* and bring me fame
And when they realize the ruse
They will complain about my name-abuse
Everyone will huff and puff
And come take back their upvote love

Michael Nystrom's picture

Where are the musicians?

Where is the band?

Strike up the orchestra
Give the poets a hand

Set it to music
Make it a rap

Load it to YouTube
Like you was Ice Cube

As if on cue

One just emerged
Spittin' AnCap fire
For me and you
Ironically, given the circumstances
But I invited the talent
I'll take my chances


This sentiment

I must second
And I request
That one SmudgePot sing
The Ballad of Socratic Jan
If he does he is the man

Nagila Hava

hava nagila
hava nagila
hava nagila veh nismeja

There is nothing strange about having a bar of soap in your right pocket, it's just what's happening.

Michael Nystrom's picture

The Holographic Michael Jackson

Personally I don't think it dances as the real thing did, but then again, we're early in the technology cycle on holographic projections. Still, it's better than the Princess Lea hologram:


jrd sent me the link of Jacko through the backchannel. I don't think I would have watched it otherwise.

Holographic Michael Jackson

How do you moonwalk with no traction?
Does your hologram hold the secret
to the world, can you speak it?
Or do you just say super Freak It?

The living cell

Little factory, in a shell
What does it mean, what does it tell
Self assembling assembly line
With all the others, keeping time

Little factory in a shell

how do you keep time so well?
efficient like a factory line
how could you not be designed....

"Hence, naturally enough, my symbol for Hell is something like the bureaucracy of a police state or the office of a thoroughly nasty business concern." ~~C.S. Lewis
Love won! Deliverance from Tyranny is on the way! Col. 2:13-15