Finding a needle
to thread lost in a haystack
in a tornado.
to thread lost in a haystack
in a tornado.
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Running Poetry Thread
- Thread starter Volker Kirstein
- Start date
UNTITLED 4.4.22
(ODE TO A FART)
Work day is done
Time for some fun
Bring out the paraphernalia
Like a didgeridoo from Australia
Click bubble bubble whoosh
Spasm like an Egyptian cartouche
Spend some time
Farting in rhyme
Sweeeeeeeefrap! Frap!
Uh oh! I think there's some crap!
(ODE TO A FART)
Work day is done
Time for some fun
Bring out the paraphernalia
Like a didgeridoo from Australia
Click bubble bubble whoosh
Spasm like an Egyptian cartouche
Spend some time
Farting in rhyme
Sweeeeeeeefrap! Frap!
Uh oh! I think there's some crap!
DAYDREAM 905
Breakfast is done, morning glory, too
Synapses snapping, I’m thinking of you
Your footprints on the inside of my skull
As you dance
Glass covered dancer in mad tarantella
Rhythmically gyrating, limbs helter skelter
Sweat beading on your cleavage and tummy
As you dance
My mind awhirl
The dancing girl
Imagination
Conflagration
Breakfast is done, morning glory, too
Synapses snapping, I’m thinking of you
Your footprints on the inside of my skull
As you dance
Glass covered dancer in mad tarantella
Rhythmically gyrating, limbs helter skelter
Sweat beading on your cleavage and tummy
As you dance
My mind awhirl
The dancing girl
Imagination
Conflagration
OTTO TRAVERSING THE STAIRS
(Saskatchewan, 2013)
When Otto goes down the stairs
Otto runs from side to side
Poor Otto going down the stairs
Stumpy Otto cannot glide
Little legs carry Otto only so
Gravity dictates how Otto goes
Go too far, and over goes Otto
Experience teaches, and Otto knows
When traversing Otto goes down best
Zagging down Otto fearlessly goes
Little Otto, a vision of jest
Otto at bottom of stairs
(Saskatchewan, 2013)
When Otto goes down the stairs
Otto runs from side to side
Poor Otto going down the stairs
Stumpy Otto cannot glide
Little legs carry Otto only so
Gravity dictates how Otto goes
Go too far, and over goes Otto
Experience teaches, and Otto knows
When traversing Otto goes down best
Zagging down Otto fearlessly goes
Little Otto, a vision of jest
Otto at bottom of stairs
I can count
I can count
I can count the number of times
Don't worry so much!
Just cheer up!
And Turn that frown upside down!
Actually helped
On no hands
I can count
I can count the number of times
Don't worry so much!
Just cheer up!
And Turn that frown upside down!
Actually helped
On no hands
Before you read this (or not), I have to warn you that it is graphic, and while implied, it is not about a person.
Read at your peril.
Read at your peril.
I walk in the room and smell her stench
Pungent aromas exude from the wench
Her powerful smell inflames my senses
I can’t take any more! The killing commences!
I rip her from the warmth of her bed
The first thing I do is chop off her head
I take her limbs, and tear them asunder
The air is filled with the smells of my plunder
I take her parts to hang from the ceiling
Words cannot describe the joy I am feeling
As I lay in my bed and watch her sway
Her body parts dangling in perfect array
All the bits and left over pieces
Sit in a bucket awaiting the freezes
When I pour liquid butane o'er her mortal remains
Then let it evaporate, and scrape up the stains
Pungent aromas exude from the wench
Her powerful smell inflames my senses
I can’t take any more! The killing commences!
I rip her from the warmth of her bed
The first thing I do is chop off her head
I take her limbs, and tear them asunder
The air is filled with the smells of my plunder
I take her parts to hang from the ceiling
Words cannot describe the joy I am feeling
As I lay in my bed and watch her sway
Her body parts dangling in perfect array
All the bits and left over pieces
Sit in a bucket awaiting the freezes
When I pour liquid butane o'er her mortal remains
Then let it evaporate, and scrape up the stains
Trees for the cheese, oh please, oh please! 
I don't know why he's got dirt on his knees,
But I know I never sought sights such as these!
This could be some kind of social disease,
But trees for the cheese, oh please, oh please!
I don't know why he's got dirt on his knees,
But I know I never sought sights such as these!
This could be some kind of social disease,
But trees for the cheese, oh please, oh please!
WORMS
(2011)
I died when you left
Worms found me
Are my memories my own
Or dreams of worms
(2011)
I died when you left
Worms found me
Are my memories my own
Or dreams of worms
A friend in need is a friend indeed
But is that always true
For if a friend is in need to often
Are they a true friend to you?
A friend is there when you need to talk
They listen and give advice
To have one true friend
In one's whole life
Should be considered as very nice
To have two, you're one of the lucky ones
And should treasure what you've got
Because friends aren't the cheapest things
You might suffer and pay a lot
That's what builds a friendship
Perfection surely does not
But is that always true
For if a friend is in need to often
Are they a true friend to you?
A friend is there when you need to talk
They listen and give advice
To have one true friend
In one's whole life
Should be considered as very nice
To have two, you're one of the lucky ones
And should treasure what you've got
Because friends aren't the cheapest things
You might suffer and pay a lot
That's what builds a friendship
Perfection surely does not
THE WORLD IS A MORON
I have the words
They're lined up, ready to go
All that remains is pressing a key
Eloquent screams of rage
Intricately intertwined
Words to make the gods gnash their teeth
And bellow in anger
But should I show the words
Give them flight
Well
You see the problem
I have the words
They're lined up, ready to go
All that remains is pressing a key
Eloquent screams of rage
Intricately intertwined
Words to make the gods gnash their teeth
And bellow in anger
But should I show the words
Give them flight
Well
You see the problem
I got rhythm, I got music
I got fruit pies, who could ask for anything more?
I got fruit pies, who could ask for anything more?
This bran is your bran,
This bran is my bran,
The favorite breakfast,
Of your dear ol' great-gran!
This bran is my bran,
The favorite breakfast,
Of your dear ol' great-gran!
DEAD PANTS II
There are days that should never have started
And nights that I'd wish never end
Sometimes my brain is all sorted
Others it's right 'round the bend
But most of the time is a gray in-between
Each day blurs into the next
Boredom with organic chemistry:
Hot tea and weed works the best
There are days that should never have started
And nights that I'd wish never end
Sometimes my brain is all sorted
Others it's right 'round the bend
But most of the time is a gray in-between
Each day blurs into the next
Boredom with organic chemistry:
Hot tea and weed works the best
Say what? Chicken butt.
Say why? Chicken thigh.
Say who? Chicken poo.
Say where? Chicken hair.
Say when? Chicken skin.
Which week? Chicken beak.
Say why? Chicken thigh.
Say who? Chicken poo.
Say where? Chicken hair.
Say when? Chicken skin.
Which week? Chicken beak.
You say taquito and I say toccata, let's call the whole thing arf.
