Icy pouring rain
icy pouring rain
icy pouring rain...
zippy the pinhead and jack chick tracts
found on the floor at random
I couldn't have found something like that
if I'd had amillion years
but I wasn't trying
If I overgift someone it is because they are expected to share, so
Beware if I ever give you books for a present...
If you know someone I've given books to
by all means make them share
As that was probably the point.
You all must read "Waking the Dead"
My channel's set on random
sorry
Goodnight,all
corbid
Showing posts with label bad poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad poetry. Show all posts
Monday, November 22, 2004
Icy pouring rain
Labels:
bad poetry,
Cultural Detritus,
Poetic Detritus,
pop culture
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Lyrics Of The Day:
(The Cure,off Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me...)
"How Beautiful You Are"
You want to know why I hate you?
Well I’ll try and explain...
You remember that day in paris
When we wandered through the rain
And promised to each other
That we’d always think the same
And dreamed that dream
To be two souls as one
And stopped just as the sun set
And waited for the night
Outside a glittering building
Of glittering glass and burning light...
And in the road before us
Stood a weary greyish man
Who held a child upon his back
A small boy by the hand
The three of them were dressed in rags
And thinner than the air
And all six eyes stared fixedly on you
The father’s eyes said ’beautiful!
How beautiful you are!’
The boy’s eyes said
’how beautiful!
She shimmers like a star!’
The childs eyes uttered nothing
But a mute and utter joy
And filled my heart with shame for us
At the way we are
I turned to look at you
To read my thoughts upon your face
And gazed so deep into your eyes
So beautiful and strange
Until you spoke
And showed me understanding is a dream
’i hate these people staring
Make them go away from me!’
The fathers eyes said ’beautiful!
How beautiful you are!’
The boys eyes said
’how beautiful! she glitters like a star!’
The child’s eyes uttered joy
And stilled my heart with sadness
For the way we are
And this is why I hate you
And how I understand
That no-one ever knows or loves another
Or loves another
"How Beautiful You Are"
You want to know why I hate you?
Well I’ll try and explain...
You remember that day in paris
When we wandered through the rain
And promised to each other
That we’d always think the same
And dreamed that dream
To be two souls as one
And stopped just as the sun set
And waited for the night
Outside a glittering building
Of glittering glass and burning light...
And in the road before us
Stood a weary greyish man
Who held a child upon his back
A small boy by the hand
The three of them were dressed in rags
And thinner than the air
And all six eyes stared fixedly on you
The father’s eyes said ’beautiful!
How beautiful you are!’
The boy’s eyes said
’how beautiful!
She shimmers like a star!’
The childs eyes uttered nothing
But a mute and utter joy
And filled my heart with shame for us
At the way we are
I turned to look at you
To read my thoughts upon your face
And gazed so deep into your eyes
So beautiful and strange
Until you spoke
And showed me understanding is a dream
’i hate these people staring
Make them go away from me!’
The fathers eyes said ’beautiful!
How beautiful you are!’
The boys eyes said
’how beautiful! she glitters like a star!’
The child’s eyes uttered joy
And stilled my heart with sadness
For the way we are
And this is why I hate you
And how I understand
That no-one ever knows or loves another
Or loves another
Labels:
bad poetry,
Cultural Detritus,
Musical Detritus,
philosophy,
song
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Amnesiac Lover
Baby's an amnesiac
and never ever calls you back
you could die tonight of a heart attack
amnesiac lover
would never discover
might confuse you with another
tells the same stories
tells the same stories
tells the same stories
a hundred times a day
and never ever calls you back
you could die tonight of a heart attack
amnesiac lover
would never discover
might confuse you with another
tells the same stories
tells the same stories
tells the same stories
a hundred times a day
Monday, September 06, 2004
Laborday Blues (detritus)
Half drunk still, he lurked in the shadows and I stood in the doorway and he said I looked like Tori Amos "in a cool and beautiful way" but the camera had a low battery so this can be neither confirmed nor denied. Still I felt the need to preserve it for posterity. Vain and selfish creature that I am. Sometimes men who you know don't love you are the ones who are most complimentary. And certainly you can trust them more. But holy fuck I'd have paid good money to hear a thing like that. Last week I found my keys and the remote control and I felt as if I'd won the lottery. I am a woman of simple delights. Every day, when I fail to wake up dead, I am grateful, except on the days that I wish I was dead which are thankfully sporadic in number mostly. Life is a mess but such a happy chaotic mess all the same. Love is what radiates from my girls' rosy faces and lights up their eyes.Sweetness is a name for refusing to let the assholes that make up the general population get you down. Politics are overrunning my television. Fuck the fucking fascist regime. Vive le France and God Save The Queen and there's no future and England's dreaming. Vive le revolution. The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. Just vote and vote justly. I am a simple woman of simple joys but I'll be damned if I sign my rights away to the corporate oligarchy this November. It's labor day. Which means. Respect the working man! Fight for justice! Support your fellow man! It was never meant to be a day of picnics and white sales. Read Michael Moore today or listen to Jello Biafra or register to vote. Do something, damnit! It's not too late (says the eternal optimist...)Just. Do it. Right Now.
thank you and good night
thank you and good night
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
thoughts
When you're absent minded, everything's a pleasant surprise.
http://www.members.cox.net/corbid/exponentialdetritus.html
http://www.members.cox.net/corbid/exponentialdetritus.html
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
doormats
Some Pandoras never learn their lesson
and just keep looking for other doors to open
ignoring the ills for the hope left behind
girls who are not wise
clever but not wise
(detritus)(poetica)(myth)(opinion)(divination)
and just keep looking for other doors to open
ignoring the ills for the hope left behind
girls who are not wise
clever but not wise
(detritus)(poetica)(myth)(opinion)(divination)
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
Argue amongst yourselves
And who was she in some other incarnation?
Friend,lover,sister,mother or mortal enemy?
Seems strange still you haven't known each other lifetimes
Strange but true
And who
is she now?
Lifesucking vampire?
Bright,sweet muse?
Thorn in your precious side?
Nothing if not constant
Yours for the taking
Yet always out of reach
You say so much in silences
You say too much in silences
Say too much in words and the world falls down
A heart on a sleeve
is just another piece of meat
so fresh and bleeding and bittersweet
Serve it up with fillet of soul
on the heirloom china
with parsely butter and a wedge of lemon
Lay out the priceless silver and the fine linens
Coyote shall dine like a king tonight
Friend,lover,sister,mother or mortal enemy?
Seems strange still you haven't known each other lifetimes
Strange but true
And who
is she now?
Lifesucking vampire?
Bright,sweet muse?
Thorn in your precious side?
Nothing if not constant
Yours for the taking
Yet always out of reach
You say so much in silences
You say too much in silences
Say too much in words and the world falls down
A heart on a sleeve
is just another piece of meat
so fresh and bleeding and bittersweet
Serve it up with fillet of soul
on the heirloom china
with parsely butter and a wedge of lemon
Lay out the priceless silver and the fine linens
Coyote shall dine like a king tonight
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
oblivion...
Ridiculous little poem I wrote myself weeks ago...
(Sung to the tune of "Anarchy In The UK" by the Sex Pistols)
Too old to be an anarchist
And too cold to be a child of christ
Don't know what I want and don't know how to get it
Don't want to destroy
Just want oblivion
(Sung to the tune of "Anarchy In The UK" by the Sex Pistols)
Too old to be an anarchist
And too cold to be a child of christ
Don't know what I want and don't know how to get it
Don't want to destroy
Just want oblivion
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