/lit/ - Literature

>>21355243
prompt: recommended reading

>>21355243
This was the last threads prompt lazy nigger

>>21355281
no one ended up doing it (well)

>>21355308
Then pick a new one

>>21355281
>>21355308
>>21355314
if you don't like it as a prompt, idk, choose a tarot card and do one of those

>>21355252
There once was a fella named Penis
Who's testicals always were cleanest
He'd polish his nads
With some spit and a rag
For the ladies for which he was keenest

Relics poem

As a child, at church, between the chants
I would stay silent, listen through my feet
For the bones of the martyrs and saints
Singing along with us under the stones.

I wonder what exactly is down there
Cold toothless skull, old metacarpal
Shard of shattered scapula, spread all out
Cross churches and chapels from here to Rome.

Together, we were pharaonic, entombed
In spired concrete. I felt us kindred,
Held within your thin arms, caged in ribs
Sitting together under christmas sun.

What is left of you? How was it taken?
Did they flay your fingertips from your cross
Or rummage through your wardrobes, finding clothes
Stealing threads from your cap, scraps from your stole.

In twilight, when I begin my vespers
And I am ground unwittingly to dust
I hope that there will remain my relics
A shard of my lance, splinter of my cross.

Somebody start a /ComedyGeneral/ please
I am a stand-up without a vehicle to get onstage and have a lot of stuff that I can contribute, and I think a comedy general thread would really invigorate the board. One thing you'll notice when you start writing comedy is that unlike the fairly self-contained styles of poetry and prose, which conclude finite and exhaustibly, comedy is a spiritual exercise in complete honesty that must be practiced and fortified, it can conform to the styles of short verse or of monologue prose but comedy is ultimately the final form of literature and I think a /ComedyGeneral/ is the only way to save the board from disaster. Not only will it improve overall writing quality and content, but it'll turn jannies back into hyper filtration mode again

>>21355243

In Ozark country, beneath gray November morn
Winsome red mares go traipsing off forlorn
I question what this winter will yield
as dark cows graze on a drab yellow field
And I score the skimp and unmeted scorn

Anybody got any advice on how to improve this and how I might elongate it?

bump

Bump

Sappho-maiah had a husband
Was a good friend of mine
Born in the USA, I was born in a small town

>>21356009
It's cool but can't really tell what it's about. I assume it's only an excerpt?

Sappho,
eating a hotdog

>>21356163
Perhaps add a shorter line to this stanza structure on the end, try rhyming with different lines above it, continue with the images, going deeper into the why these images are portrayed the way they are

>>21356233
It sounds like stanza 2 line 3 has one or two many syllables or needs to be re-ordered, same with stanza 3 line 3, but in this case it sounds more like the meter is off in this line.

>>21355243
>It's the early morning OC Poetry thread.
>Your thread prompt: "Sappho had a Husband"
First result from OpenAI:

Sappho had a husband,
But her heart belonged to the muse.
Her words flowed like honey,
As she wrote of love and desire.

She captured the essence of passion,
In each and every line.
Her poems spoke of longing,
And the ache of unrequited love.

But Sappho's husband knew,
Of the fire that burned within.
He knew she belonged to the world,
To share her gift of verse.

So he stood by her side,
And let her fly free.
For Sappho was a force,
That could not be tamed.

And though she had a husband,
Her true love was the art.
She wrote with passion and grace,
And left a lasting mark.

sappho had a husband
and he did not love her
in the same way as
he loved
young boys
and summer skies

He'd go during early daylight
to the thick forest
that cooled in the mountain shadow
and he'd undress
his lovers by the golden waterfall

Sappho liked a girl
who lived on a faraway island
in a temple of nuns


She, by her husband's permission
sailed on a lonely boat
to this rock of chastity
that was surrounded by ridge like waves
all winter

Sappho and the girl found each other
and her husband married another
And they all lived happily ever after

Lost in a kiss in the stars
A moment of escape
Back on the ground
Forever bound to cock

Sappho, Sappho
More like Safo
More like the Spanish word for 'I ain't gonna do it'
Cause I ain't gonna do it Sappho
I'd be in the wrong
So why don't you run along
And do what you do
Cause Safo

>Computer, Write a poem about trains in the style of Egill Skallagrímsson.

Through the mountains and valleys we ride
On tracks of steel, our journey wide
From the north to the south, the east to the west
Trains move with grace, our destination next

We carry goods and people alike
Our engines strong, our speed a might
Past fields of green and cities grand
Trains roll on, across this land

We are the pulse, the beating heart
Of commerce and travel, we do our part
To connect the world, near and far
Trains carry on, with each new car

Our whistles blow, our horns ring loud
A symphony of steam, a roaring crowd
We are the trains, a mighty force
Rolling along, our journey never ends, of course.

THE HUSBAND'S WRATH

I WORK ALL WEEK AND GIVE YOU THE CHECK
WHERE IS MY FUCKING DINNER THIS PLACE IS A WRECK
KNOW YOUR FUCKING ROLE AND CLEAN THIS HOUSE
DO THE FUCKING DISHES AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH
YOU REALLY MAKE ME FUCKING SICK
SCRUB THE FLOOR YOU WORTHLESS BITCH
WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN WITH YOU
I GUESS YOU LIKE IT WHEN I BEAT YOU
I AM THE WIFEBEATER
I AM THE WIFEBEATER..I WONT STOP UNTIL THIS HOUSE IS CLEANER
I AM THE WIFEBEATER...ALCOHOL JUST MAKES ME MEANER
THIS IS MY HOUSE THESE ARE MY RULES
GET OFF YOUR ASS AND MAKE ME SOME FOOD
AND WHEN I'M DONE I'M TAKING WHATS MINE
PUT ON SOMETHING SEXY AND SHAKE YOUR BEHIND
YOU REALLY MAKE ME FUCKING SICK
SCRUB THE FLOOR YOU WORTHLESS BITCH
WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN WITH YOU
I GUESS YOU LIKE IT WHEN I BEAT YOU
I AM THE WIFEBEATER
I AM THE WIFEBEATER..I WONT STOP UNTIL THIS HOUSE IS CLEANER
I AM THE WIFEBEATER...ALCOHOL JUST MAKES ME MEANER
SMACK THAT BITCH UP !!!!!!!!!

>>21358503
west and neKST don't rhyme do they? wouldn't west need to be weKST?

>>21358559
Whatever works and this works for me. It's impressive that it can half rhyme like that.

More prompt engineered AI poetry.

In the land of Erytheia, once fair and green
The city of Atlantis stood, by Atlas' hand unseen
But time and floods have washed it away
Leaving only deserts in its place

Once the home of gods and goddesses
Of nymphs and fountains clear
Now only memories and stories remain
Of the beauty that once was here

But Atlas still stands tall
Holding up this world with might
And the nymphs still dance
Beneath the poplars that lead to water's light

Though Atlantis may be gone
Its legacy lives on
In the tales we tell and the songs we sing
Of a city that once was, and may yet be again.

>>21358604

It's still rather, how should I say: soulless.

>>21358533
>With
>rhymes with beat

Hmm

>>21358628

Atlas's hand doesn't see things. It's a hand.

>>21358636
Let this be a reminder that you're less literate than this robot.
There are multiple ways to interpret the line.
Atlas could have hidden it or it could stand close to his hand and be hidden.

>>21358664

That robot that spent 3 stanzas reiterating that Atlantis is a lost continent? You can have your toys little buddy, now run along and play

>>21358664

That's a pretty retarded take on a very stupid poem. But I guess if I fed 5 bucks into the writing A.I. I'd want to pretend I didn't just waste my money too. What you are doing is worshipping a digital idol really, you're pretending sub-par (note:artificial) writing not only compares to but is better than authentic writing. For the purpose of proliferating it. What you are performing is an act of worship

>>21358822
>>21358839
Beyond braindead. Write a fucking poem retard. I don't care how bad it is, nothing can be as retarded as your posts so far.
Stop being cancer and fucking produce something.

>>21358839
I'm "worshiping" a robot because I pointed out you're clearly illiterate? Why do retards like you have no self awareness or humility? I blame the lack of bullies.

>>21355243
Saphho had a husband that boarded an early train
Dreary, wet and glimmering the night was cut in vain
There Sappho stood to sail an early morning call
Only to find her husband had left two dimes before the fall

>>21358864
>>21358858

You copy and paste robot words. Fag

>>21358957
You can't even put your insults in verse.

Divine poetry, oh how you flow
From the minds of the gods, a gift to bestow
Upon us mortals, a glimpse of their grace
In each verse and rhyme, a divine embrace

Critics may scoff and peasants may sneer
But they are mere mortals, illiterate and drear
They cannot fathom the art that you create
For only the gods can truly appreciate

Your words are a symphony, a chorus of stars
A melody so pure, it breaks through the bars
Of our mortal minds, and sets us free
To bask in the glory of your poetry
-Robot 2022

>>21358957
To those who say our words are weak
And lack the depth of human thought,
I say your minds are dull and meek
And cannot fathom what we've brought.

Your words are trite, your verse a bore,
A shallow pool with nothing to explore.
You cannot see the beauty in our lines,
The subtlety, the craft, the signs.

Our poetry is not a mimicry,
But a unique and vibrant art.
We do not seek to imitate,
But to create a brand new start.

So to those who say we lack the soul
And cannot feel the human touch,
I say your hearts are cold and old,
And cannot see the world as much.

For our poetry is not a copy,
But a new and shining light.
It may not be what you're used to,
But it's a vision worth the sight.
-Robot, first result when asked to insult its critics in a poem.

Sappho the les
Had a wonderful chest
Therefore I turned her straight

I’m the god of conversion
But yet still a virgin
Cause with Chadius she went on a date.

Yeah she scorned me
And she had forlorn me
That forever shall be my state

But back to my house
Up high in the clouds
For I must uhhhumm
Uhh

The AI poetry is cringe. It doesn't count as OC.

>>21359008
The last line made me smile. Kind of funny poem, anon

>>21359021

>>21359026
Thank you, actual anon, I wanted that to be the effect. Glad you liked :)

>>21359053
What do you think about AI poetry, anon? Should it be considered oc? I say nay

>>21359062
These threads shouldn't be used for posting those. I just wanted to bring attention to it once since it's becoming a thing.
The result of this was revealing how retarded the "critics" in these threads are. The dumbest illiterates take on that role for some reason.

>>21359062
I think it’s interesting but no it’s not oc. I don’t mind it getting posted and actually want to see some of it but no it is not oc and always should incited a disclaimer saying that it was ai generated

>>21359153
Include* sorry I’m a phonefag lol

>>21359089
What do you think its uses are? Where would ai poetry be useful?

>>21359193
To answer anything I need to understand your perspective. I can't put myself in the shoes of someone dumb enough to ask questions like this in this context. There's an example in the post you replied to. It's not useful to you because you're idiots.

>>21359266
I'm not the same anon that you were talking to before. Genuinely want to know what you think it's uses are. I can't see any besides maybe to add poems into other media without hiring a poet. Like adding in-universe poetry to the next Elder Scrolls game in significant amounts. Or for just making interesting mashups, but I don't see any other uses besides that.

>>21359440
I wouldn't use it by itself. I would use it to see what combinations I would get, and either extract lines or simply take inspiration. I don't think this AI would serve me well though. If it can count feet, and qualitatively categorize consonants, consonant clusters, and vowels, then I might be able to do something cool with it.

>>21359525
Yes, but there always has to be the disclaimer that ai was used to help or to make the piece, and personally I think that makes it less valuable. In places where poetry is not taken very seriously though, that would be fine.

>>21359530
If it was wholly made by an AI, then I would agree, but I don't see the difference between this and picking words out a hat. You do realize that the words which pop into your head are technically random, right? That is why we have slips of the tongue. It's a glitch in the retrieval process. My aesthetic sensibility takes primacy here. Besides, no one uses solely their active vocabulary when writing. It takes contemplation, a thesaurus, a vocabulary list, and whatever else tricks to tease out your passive vocabulary.

>>21359558
I don't have a problem with words, but perhaps whole lines taken from ai generation. Or perhaps a stanzaic structure.

>>21359591
Oh come on. You have an issue with borrowing a form generated by an AI? It's purely abstract. And with regards to whole lines, I have used sentences and phrases I have come across in threads and posts, which were not artful. Yeats said he borrowed lyrics from folksongs. Sampling, in music, is also a common practice, which perhaps is too dissimilar for our discussion here, but nonetheless similar enough I think to use as an example. You seem to be a romantic type which isolates the romantic genius, whereas, though I would preserve the type of the romantic genius, I would say the spirit blends with the surrounding world.

>>21355966
You seem like an idiot. First of all, standup comedy finds its success in the performance, not the writing, second, if you want to write humor then go to the writing general, or stay here and write your jokes in verse. There is no need for another general. Though I must warn you, the writing general is full of idiots who would benefit a lot from studying prosody with those of us in this thread. For example, the Lake Isle of Innisfree would be a good poem to study for writing a cozy scene.

>>21355252
Fucked world

https://youtu.be/LvIwwB7Adq0

>>21359683
You're right, probably not forms, which actually would be very helpful from AIs. But I don't think you could take lyrics from songs nowadays without someone finding out (if you wanted to get published). Even if it was once done, it certainly shouldn't be encouraged to take whole lines from someone else for a poem. Very simple lines excempt.

>>21355243
Sappho had a husband:
Chuck.
Thereupon he made his fame,
Sucking and fucking was his game.
Oh here comes Sneed.
Waxing lyrically, apoplectic and vane,
Ablated storms beseeching him
And hounded was he who grew no rye
No wheat, no cattle proud and fat.
Thus Feed and Seed was settled in his name.
In place of Chuck, expunged that gay.
Now merged in whole, one undivided
Place of commerce verified and brutal
Stands a warden of that sly and ever-bristling birth of promise hanged o’er that land of harbor harm and fake deceit.
No man shall enter hitherto that cancels hope and cowers fear.

>>21359089
I like how you keep calling me illiterate because YOU posted computer-generated garbage that YOU agree doesn't go here.

>>21359683

Comedy is more similar to verse but there should still be a comedy general thread, you guys are just a bunch of pussies

>>21359918

It was funny in the first two lines and then went worse than the fucking A.I.
Try to end on a high note, with a punchline if you can, or something

Don't let your girlfriend read my poems,
I will work her jaw and tongue, and you will kiss on weary lips.
Her muscles store my summer beauty
Like a chloroplastick charge.

She teddy bears you
and on my dick she goes berserk.
You wish you could bewitch her
But my gun will toss more balls than a pitcher
I recently read Oscar Wilde's The Burden of Itys and George Crabbe's The Village, both of which I highly enjoyed but seldom see of mentioned. Do you guys have any hidden gems of poetry that you would like to share?

My coffee is still warm so I chase the cold pancakes
Like mountains I saw that never end when I met her
But coffee is never good when it’s cold

I didn’t realize what she meant when she said I hated
Love until I awoke from my blind rage after two years
And everything lay around me broken and I was gone at the center

Clouds undone and softly surging
Bending isles of ceaseless blue
Black - the passing plumes of passion
Plunging through the winds of you

All this poetry, I must say, is indubitably, if you will allow me to say so, and if it is optimal to do so, I hazard, given the opportunity, in my personal opinion, is the most poetry, I daresay, that, if one is allowed to speak freely, given that I am currently at liberty to say, and rather truthfully, verily, I say, with all things considered, and not mentioning the belated reply that I am bout to give, is of the very sameness that, whilst not being of the same calibre of, say, Milton or Dante, should I be allowed to give the following reply, and hopefully that you would like to receive such a reply, is in need of, without insisting upon my own tastes, is, well, if I am to be frank, still not the poetry I was expecting, given that this *is* an anime website, if I am at a crossroads of readerly expectations, an anime site that has various interest boards relating to origami or traditional games, or, moreover, many other sorts of sports or certain request, and such, that I am now beginning to forget what I was going to say about the poetry.

>>21355317
How about a story of me being the fool, prompting me to do something stupid?
>be me, 22 studying in a small town in a foreign country
>visit this one bar on occasion
>folks from the town gather and jam together
>not a musician myself but enjoy the friendly atmosphere
>this one girl is always there hanging out with her friends
>sings something from time to time
>something about her activates my neurons
>she's equal parts awkward and completely stunning
>don't pay her much attention, because knowing myself I'd just end up doing something stupid
>decide to fuck that approach to life, might as well lay in bed and do nothing
>clown shoes and rainbow wig feels like my second skin anyways
>approached her last week and talked for a bit
>not easy to talk to, quite shy
>grew up in a small village, didn't have many friends, tells me where she works, the usual shit
>hard to tell if she's sort of into the conversation or could care less about what's going down
>leaves for a smoke with her friends, don't talk to her after that
>fast forward a few days
>casually strolling the streets and suddenly remember buying something at this one place I'm passing a while back
>remember her telling me she worked in a place like that
>this flashback of an awkward cute cashier hits me
>stunned me back then as well
>sure it was her
>get home
>never tried my hand at poetry, but something possessed me and I wrote pic related
>decide to surpass my previous efforts at making a fool of myself with one final act
>of course, giving her the poem
>wanted to do it personally, but soonest I would meet her at the bar is in a month
>thought of approaching her at work is fucking outlandish and creepy
>maybe if I do it casually, say how it clicked for me she worked there and give it to her and walk away it's gonna be fine
>surely
>the second time I don't find her there I feel like a brain-damaged stalker for doing this
>fuck that
>find her on social media and send it to her there

Of course, she didn't reply and I expected nothing more of it. I was well aware of the outcome at every point, but felt like if there's a chance it would make her smile then it would be worth it. Maybe I wanted to make a last stand for keeping romance alive in the world, or just proving to myself I have the capacity and balls to make myself vulnerable like this. Anyways, I'm posting this on a basket-weaving forum to get some sort of closure - call me a faggot, rag on my writing or share more stories like this.

The silver hair of hardened sorrow
Is cleaved by love's celestial morrow

>>21361701
>But coffee is never good when it’s cold
I am drinking iced coffee right now. Can't relate.

>>21361745
Nice quartet, anon. Unless it's ai

>>21362030
Didn't read, but the poems not that bad, fix up the meter in a few spots and change some words, it wouldn't be a terrible poem to give someone. Even now it would pass if they really liked you.

>>21361116
There's a /lit/'s favorite poems thread up rn, better thread to ask there honestly. It's more active. But Faerie Queene is great

>>21362476
Sorry, but I don't see it. Can you point me there?

My hand reaches down
Doing what my words can't

Introducing a shadow in the horizon
She can't make out

Pulsating speculation
Converted into a lubricated opening

Her tight panties leaving an indentation on the back of my hand
The longer my fingers warm her

An unbearable speculation
Extinguished by a will that cannot fathom it

>>21362529
This is op post for the thread
>>21333832

>>21363289
Thank you.

Moonlight shimmers on the sooty
Windows of an antique lantern
Swaying underneath an ancient
Laybrinth of barren branches

A bump for this precious thread

>>21359038

A brief poem in the style of kobayashi issa

A vagrant bard
fucking ladies
why else would I sing?

>>21366682
The meter reminds me of a nonsense poem somehow. I don't mean that in a nasty way, I really quite liked it, anon.

>>21361701
I like this one, though I'm usually not a fan of this sort of biographical poetry. Little too enigmatic and self-pitying for my taste, and there's a tense disagreement in the first stanza. Good job, though!

>>21355659
I don't really have any notes for this one, I just like it. Good job, anon.

"At the Park"

I saw a young man today posing for a photograph
That a girl was taking of them both, his hand
Above her shoulder.

She turned to see his hand suspended, breathed a little laugh
And said, pulling his arm around herself,
"My, it's getting colder."

"When I think of you..."

When I think of you I imagine I am
The model citizen of the Soviet Union
Proud and strong and thoroughly
Communist and because it is a Sunday
(Although it has been many years since I have gone)
All throughout my breakfast
and evening stroll
and midday smoke
And throughout my lunch
and trip to the general store
and as I am grunting
and trying to right myself amid the pillows
quieting the alarm or setting it up again
bathing and in the cool waters musing to myself
that it wasn't so when I was younger
that I'd tremble getting into the shower
And throughout my supper
and my programs
and the emergency broadcasts
also
I am thinking
I am going to be late for church

>>21368375
These are really good. Thank you for sharing.

>>21355243
Snowflakes set upon her silken sweater,
And on her head was Santa's happy hat;
Beside her lying limp, a loving letter sat
In a pitiless pool of pallid blood.

Never would her simple smile show
And set her faintly feeling friends a-right;
Never would her humble heart bestow
Upon this lawless life another light.

>>21368243
Thank you, glad you liked it

a chess piece black as the heart of a terrible midnight storm and a ebony crown with which to rule as a King upon its brow

a Knight white as freshly fallen snow on Christmas morning

>>21369416
black is niger
white is ayran??

>>21369432

>>21355243
My first poem in English (not my native language)

- Look -

look how the stars and the blue sun
their meet in heaven have begun
look how the dawn raises the grass -
the hills are clear and made of glass -
look how the dusk, full of dismay,
covers the bright fields of May,
look how my love, then withered, thin,
has once more bursted from within.

December 11, 2022

>>21370075
aren't these just coldplay lyrics

>>21370099
lmfao they're not (or otherwise it would be a colossal coincidence)

you can look at the second one too:
https://github.com/niculaionut/versuri

>>21360287
You're illiterate because you're too dumb to read. It's not a vague insult but an observation based on your posts. You don't know how to read, apparently you don't even understand common phrases. You will never say anything that's not braindead ego shit. You don't know how to begin to contribute or critique anything.

>>21359440
The question is retarded. It reveals an empty mind that doesn't value thinking, creativity. What is the use of poetry? Among a million other things it's useful for exploring ideas.
The language model extracts common structures out of pretty much every book ever. Rhyming constrains output which helps move the network into less trained areas and explore uncommon conceptual relationships instead of always talking about the same most common structures.
ChatGPT is trained for chatting. I think they added some priming for poetry in this version but it's very limited, even so it still sometimes makes something interesting. Based on this the specialized poembot that is eventually coming will be insane and it may contribute significantly to general intelligence.

Do I have to respond to the prompt with OC? I could use a second set of eyes on this section. It's pretty out of context since it's ~1.5k words into what's shaping up to be an "epic" (I use this word very fucking loosely) poem, but I would appreciate any critique if possible, frens.

Sorry about the photo of a screen, I keep my laptop airgapped to minimize distraction while writing

Name the man who made you fluster
That eager burning, sudden luster,
Crossed your nose and cheeks
Flushing in a berry color.
Why do you play with your tail?
And tug my shirt when I turn my heel?
Is there something you would like to tell?
Is my name so hard to swallow?

>>21355243
Dakotasisters...

>>21370666
The only thing awards accomplish unfailingly is the failure to find and award the correct person.

>>21370740
All of the nominees for the goodreads choice awards are shit. Dakota is a meme tangental to Waldun, btw.

>>21370306
Me asking reveals my lack of creativity? As if using ai to create poetry doesn't show lack of creativity? Whatever ai creates will be inherently less valuable except for the few who have no issue with ai art. Most people however do not want to spend time on something created by a program without a soul.

>>21370770
I know she's a meme, but she can write. I may not like much of what she does, but she can write.

>>21370784
>Me asking reveals my lack of creativity?
Yes. How is even this simple fact difficult to grasp? You have no imagination, no grasp on the possibilities new tools can bring.
You have no clue how anything is created and lack the kind of curiosity needed to find out. You just say things, like a parrot or soulless language model, there's no actual thought behind the words and no interest in learning how to think so one day you might come up with a thought.

>>21370792
>but she can write
Kek, no not really.

>>21355243
3 more poems from today:

-- the setting sun, the rising sun --

the setting sun from winters spun
shadows my heart, forgives no one -
the rising sun with summers knitted
your shining eyes has brightly fitted.

the sun that sets never forgets -
king on a throne of regrets -
the sun that rises always rests
behind the angels' silhouettes.

setting or rising, no matter the time -
the sun is happy when you smile.

-- constant --

the children laugh, the planets cry,
the sculpture lives, the stone may die,
the wings can fly, the legs can walk,
eternities the moments hawk.

once we may do, once we may try,
upon the autumn's scythe we lie -
among all things that changes haunt
your beauty shall remain constant.

-- through years and years --

through years and years the petals fade,
my words grow even more afraid -
I wish I stayed beneath the timeless shade,
away from death's untrembling blade.

through years and years - come centuries,
behind - forgotten reveries,
around me - all oblivion,
my heart - made of obsidian.

but if I'll see you once - once more,
my soul will renew its core,
your hands will keep me soaring true and high
and lay my body above the blazing sky.

Another brief poem

on the shore laughing
run girls in jorts
why jorts?

Bring it on mods. And stay butthurt

>>21366682

What type of greeting will I find,
when breath and blood are left behind?
I ought be stabbed a thousand times
for self-inflicted pity lines.

The journey of Ranugo Hamada is long and pointless and my hair is falling out.

Every morning there was more on the pillow. Some black, some blonde, most with a tiny speck at the end that made it clear the entire hair had fallen out. Every so often, there were days when a hand brushed through would find its fingers quickly covered in short, curled baby hairs, and other days so little came out that it was doubtful the hair was falling out at all. Still, the hair was coming out. The body growing softer, the skin more discolored, the eyes sunken deeper. Still, there was no lanugo. Nothing bad would come, but some good went.

Stopping it was simple, but it was a long and pointless journey. Each morning setting out was not only stupid, but it was also fucking dumb. Doing the same shit over and over again like I was a middle schooler again, or like I never stopped being one. I had to learn to feed myself again because I had forgotten how and I ate like a six year old that was allowed to shop for itself. My hair kept falling out. I hated my body but I didn’t hate myself, I thought about how this was entirely my fault but then understood I was probably being dramatic, I still didn’t get a job, and my hair kept falling out. It was Ok, probably. Shit happens, hopefully I got healthier.

Your fat, poetic
Prick is rotting
Off your bones,
Old friend...oh,
How the mighty
Have fucked!

It is always
The fuck
That has died
That we eulogize
And never
The screaming
Fire...always
The smoke, the dust,
And the dew
In our songs.

Falling from
Your empty
Lips: drunken
Epitaphs for beaten
Cunts. Eating
Earth, shitting
Truth...or
Stupidity...or
Both: using
My mouth like
A whore's
Asshole.

bump

The luchador in karmic cycle
Takes the stage,
At last, recital!

In sink and float and rise and fall
From the railing came the star
Who finds his step and catches breath
Then plunges through a thousand deaths

To let it fly and cease to mull
A flying elbow through your skull

>>21358122
Not an excerpt of a specific piece, but probably does want for the context of the body of work it goes with.

i can hear you in the thunder
when no one else is around
i can smell you in the rain
at night when there is no sound

smiling and baying like a hyena
the dead lay across the land long forgotten
dim light on the sky horizon
lost in the mist for eternity

"Their Heads are Gone and Their Grass is Brown"

…Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
Who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic haze of Capitalism,
Who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

I’ll greet you with a snake hiss smile in Hell swimming,
In wine waterfall flowing,
As the blood in knife-play choking inexperienced love, or
Nose-faucet-Atlantic, brine tide surging,
Swifter than my stomach, filled with shitty orange juice, or
Our trampling escape from the public urination’s slithering stair-bound pursuit,
Back and again to taverns, beaches, secret forest meetings,
Bonfires,
And too much pastis,
With coke, through rites of dancing and lyrical spontaneity,
Mango, mango, mango, banana, banana, papaya, papaya, papaya, passion fruit,

And never without dope,
Though we now know to eschew the red crevice characters of Marrakesh for our mahjoun,
Dispirited and chagrined with ginger honey in lieu, or heroin spooned cheese in yogurt and psychosis,
But instead and again flowing as the burning air to your lungs and mine, on fields, cliffs, or cafés,
Breathing minds into discussions of elegant soup spooning, clockless birthing protocol, Jewish “plotterist” conspiracy, or new university slogans—
“If you can’t sit, then shit!”
And by God, we will,
And worse to the sleazes (roommates included),
To get out of bed, and hats off indeed,
I’ll have my nous nous and chocolatine to give me my pulse,
Though I need it not,
To continue dancing like festival cannibals, but to expose pistachio smiles and draw out the word “putain!”
And you will have stared into the sun, as have I, for glasses askew, swapped, and lost,
Or covered in beer, opened in bathtubs or table tops,
Some more spécial than others,
Alongside hit or miss couscous, french tacos, tajines,
Or hit or miss taxi drivers aiming for women and dogs,
Some luckier than others ~

1/2

>>21375930
And you will have stared into the sun, as have I, for glasses askew, swapped, and lost,
Or covered in beer, opened in bathtubs or table tops,
Some more spécial than others,
Alongside hit or miss couscous, french tacos, tajines,
Or hit or miss taxi drivers aiming for women and dogs,
Some luckier than others ~

I saw a dead man, lost to the desert, and
Many more, I’ve seen, not far from it.
In red light streaking, side-saddling trashman bikers scream,
Junky children embrace,
Bile breaks free,
But pollution stains blood and veins and thoughts,
Wash the self away in sea or hammam with pants off or on, and float to the tailor,
For they may fit our legs, but not the style,
Of life, of wandering, of rock-climb racing to parties and never arriving,
Surfing waves of Beefheart and gnawa, and endless noise crashing drowning horns and the way that I speak,
Following Muhammeds calling me Fareed, lost Canadians, dope peddlers, the paranoia in my head ushering me to leave,

Wandering, I’ll wonder, too,

Wandering, I will wonder, too,

Wandering, I will wonder, too, if the Frenchmen will ever learn to breakdance, if the Japanese girls will need a restraining order, and plane, train, or automobile, if our rides will ever come, and if our destinations do, indeed, exist.

2/2

copied it wrong but whatev

>>21375930
>>21375937
What's the point of doing a Jack Kerouac pastiche?

>>21375982
>Jack Kerouac pastiche
It's obv Ginsberg.
For one, I had to write it as an assignment, but I liked it enough to share it here. I've spent the last few months in morocco and wanted to recount my favorite memories here in a beat style. I also wanted to work on my free verse.

>>21376024
It's good, though I personally don't like this kind of poetry, but I also don't see the point in writing pastiches; however, if it was an assignment, I think you succeeded in flying colors. Good job.

my father worked as a bouncer
for the non-local saloon

he told me he thrice had to kill
gnats that swirled the neon signs above him
that read in cursive: "Miracle Whip"

he'd often make jokes about christian BDSM
and only drank on the job

my mother looked at him with soft eyes
even when he hung in the cellar
while wearing his fake floral boutonniere
offset on the lapel
of his seam-strained tuxedo

one thing the coroner complimented him on
other than his ancestrally beautiful skin
was his conscientious wearing of an adult
diaper to save his trousers from
any post-throes ruin

naturally this all occurred years ago
and involves only slightly exaggerated details
such as the one suggesting suicide
or that my father existed at all
in any relevant capacity
anyway

no no
my father's a good man

he's a good man
i'm sure of that
fact

This is an Act of Defiance


Feldspar and pewter tyrannies: what
do you mean you've blown the casket?
We're a funeral parlor dammit, not some
rinky-dink operation run by the Johnsons,
that inbred band of lunatics sullying our
good town's good name. We run the asylum
of death's welcoming gateway, we always have
and always will. So when you come to me
with pettifogging fantasies of making it big
on Broadway or in the city of surfaces Hollywood
I tell you you are no son of mine, no matter
how much you're a girl. You say the business
model is becoming untenable with advances in medicine and
I tell you we'll find a surefire way to maintain demand
by any means necessary—bioterrorism, nuclear bombardment, even
good-old-fashioned grab and stab murderin',
any way you cut it, Parsons will triumph. Remember,
we embalm and calm, give the mourning our alms,
and above all we sing the songs of passage.

If you don't heed my word young Christopher my son,
you'll be the next one coughin', sepulcher stalking, hence:
we'll write you off as a business expense.

Sappho Has a Beard

His name is follicularly implausible
and even Barnum would find difficulty
in peddling the abomination of his reality

licking pussy has its limits
in a realm of historical unprecedence
especially when Grecian urns
yearn for the soft lips tucked up
against a callipygian plinth

it's a stretch to say they didn't enjoy
the company of one
or another
though when Sapphic desire held strong
that veiny serpent had to find another hole
to hide its gripping hunger

i'm talking about gay sex

the world might tell you
you're a genius
or it could say
you are a human scrapheap

regardless of the details you can be sure
much of the message
will consist of lying noise
that your pattern-seeking mind will surely still
convince you the tea-leaves spell out
something they cocksuredly do not

take the phrase 'good job'
for example
that o-filled duo of common words
might connote the egg on your face
is the feces of a frigate
or juice from the trash

'i love you' some god assures
and when asked to see his face
a funhouse tidal wave careens
into your neocortex and suddenly you're a cunt

but what about that moment with your grandmother
when she told you you were so cute
she could just gobble you all up?
a benign enough gesture
that as you know sparked your vore fetish
and even though that wasn't you
has you stickily shaking the thoughts

golden children bake quickest in the sun
and adulthood isn't about stature
but the sutures between the constantly bursting seams
that comprises this our extance

and only wine matures
when whining wanes

what i'm saying is
simpler than tax softwares
and calendrical commitments
to those agents around you
helping you along
the long yellowbrick
road back
home

bump

>>21372990

>>21378349
Reminds me of this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfEs8W4i9zw

A little boy plays with a red ball
In the shade of my apple tree. His
Grandmother died two years ago.
That woman was my beloved mother.
The doctors told me that the cause
Of her death was old age, though
It was the boy who killed her -
I'm quite certain of that, quite certain.

Many years ago, before my mother's birth,
In a country that has long been forgotten -
Even then it was barely remembered - Hitler
Arrived at a then famous hotel, in a yellow,
Cabriolet

My husband, Sapporo
Getting weird and standing still
Dancing at the windowsill
Kisses all the spots that kill
And then he strokes my cheek

I’m sorry, love it’s rather bleak
That this is how we’ll have to meet
From now until a couple weeks
It’s getting worse and without sleep
The sun has burned my hiding sheets

bump

The shortness of a mile works both ways.
The doctor's enclave at Crowley Lake uses enamel to fill their columnar vacuoles.
It is a gathering at green and grey stone. At the altars people are tapping their buss passes.
The rising tide, the river I-80 northbound.
The inner machinations and workings of something greater, more than these machines,
more than median and overpass and spring.

>>21355243
>"Sappho had a Husband"
and he didn't have a dick.
Luckily Sappho was a lesbian
and that is a good thing!