Posts tagged with ‘poetry’

The Ancient Image

What is almost motionless and black?
The specter of an ancient image.

Who is combing the sheep’s hair?
The one with frozen veins.

Who has the secret knowledge of the naval?
Bugs Bunny.

What are mystagogic chairs?
All the women who resemble you.

Who is Belshazzar?
He who studies plaster-of-Paris lips.

What are the nerves?
Seven pure words.

What is mandarin?
The poem in your skull.

What is a fishbowl?
Dream eyes under the sea.

What are crystals?
Bells breaking in the wind.

What is the Ache?
A long embrace from the sun’s dark arms.

seed text: The Collected Poems of Philip Lamantia
art by bethfromabove

The Ancient Image

What is almost motionless and black?
The specter of an ancient image.

Who is combing the sheep’s hair?
The one with frozen veins.

Who has the secret knowledge of the naval?
Bugs Bunny.

What are mystagogic chairs?
All the women who resemble you.

Who is Belshazzar?
He who studies plaster-of-Paris lips.

What are the nerves?
Seven pure words.

What is mandarin?
The poem in your skull.

What is a fishbowl?
Dream eyes under the sea.

What are crystals?
Bells breaking in the wind.

What is the Ache?
A long embrace from the sun’s dark arms.


seed text: The Collected Poems of Philip Lamantia
art by bethfromabove

these greys

these greys
curve up
thru the sky

to devour
the courtesy
in my toughened flesh.

I do not know
her power;

if she sat
effecting
the wolf 

the spin
cut away
a yellow ghost

through which
he-who-must-die
is willow—

it occupies
where the bones
sung

so many
blue-veined hands
that spilt
the law

source text: Loba, by Diane di Prima
art by bran__santos

these greys

these greys
curve up
thru the sky

to devour
the courtesy
in my toughened flesh.

I do not know
her power;

if she sat
effecting
the wolf

the spin
cut away
a yellow ghost

through which
he-who-must-die
is willow—

it occupies
where the bones
sung

so many
blue-veined hands
that spilt
the law

source text: Loba, by Diane di Prima
art by bran__santos

Julianne the Beautiful

Uut and Traverse the Moon

What are the days you forget?
Dry hot wings.

What is an ugly soul?
A never ending sniffle.

Who holds the staff of night?
Julianne the Beautiful. 

Who are the consumers?
Those with lice-infested jaws.

What is the color of a reflection?
The gilded whiteness of your legs.

What is a meerkat?
A string of coincidences. 

What is a cat person?
The title of an awful YA novel.

Who confounds eternity with her eye?
Tesla’s secret lover.

What is a wife?
A paper butterfly that cut as it flies back up your throat.

What is an elegy written in a country churchyard?
The masterpiece painted beneath “Starry Night.”

What is a university?
A silent conch shell.

What are intestines?
The moans of the ocean.

art by Sabirina

Julianne the Beautiful

Uut and Traverse the Moon

What are the days you forget?
Dry hot wings.

What is an ugly soul?
A never ending sniffle.

Who holds the staff of night?
Julianne the Beautiful.

Who are the consumers?
Those with lice-infested jaws.

What is the color of a reflection?
The gilded whiteness of your legs.

What is a meerkat?
A string of coincidences.

What is a cat person?
The title of an awful YA novel.

Who confounds eternity with her eye?
Tesla’s secret lover.

What is a wife?
A paper butterfly that cut as it flies back up your throat.

What is an elegy written in a country churchyard?
The masterpiece painted beneath “Starry Night.”

What is a university?
A silent conch shell.

What are intestines?
The moans of the ocean.

art by Sabirina

Marriage Class Questions

What is dandruff?
The sadness of laundry. 

What is young earth creationism?
Hand lotion that smells like the beach. 

What is the icy hand of death?
A delicate hairbrush.

What is a boy band?
A machine that pours laughter into holes. 

What is adolescence?
A barking dog.

Who is Poseidon?
Only an arc. 

What are automatic updates?
Immersion in Russian and American symbols.

Who is @matthewzapruder?
The heart opened to everything made of heat.

What is a Mexican gurney?
6 Snickers bars. 

What is an astounding mystical event?
Spinning a chicken over your head.

art by collageartbyjesse

Marriage Class Questions

What is dandruff?
The sadness of laundry.

What is young earth creationism?
Hand lotion that smells like the beach.

What is the icy hand of death?
A delicate hairbrush.

What is a boy band?
A machine that pours laughter into holes.

What is adolescence?
A barking dog.

Who is Poseidon?
Only an arc.

What are automatic updates?
Immersion in Russian and American symbols.

Who is @matthewzapruder?
The heart opened to everything made of heat.

What is a Mexican gurney?
6 Snickers bars.

What is an astounding mystical event?
Spinning a chicken over your head.

art by collageartbyjesse

Hope

What is hope?
A whispered secret.

What is freedom of speech?
The surprise ending to Downtown Abbey.

What emerges in the moment of jouissance?
Merciful purses laying against a scuttlebutt.

What is the human spirit?
Sisterly diadems joining hands.

What is breakfast?
A font of masonry.

What is hair?
January in murkiest black. 

What is earthly paradise?
Jasmine and mace oscillating in the soft breeze.

Who are Scylla and Charybdis?
The spirits of trees ascending to heaven.

What is the paradox of death?
Inhabitants of leather jackets racing to the sea.

What is honey?
Ovulation.

art by Deger Bakir collages

Hope

What is hope?
A whispered secret.

What is freedom of speech?
The surprise ending to Downtown Abbey.

What emerges in the moment of jouissance?
Merciful purses laying against a scuttlebutt.

What is the human spirit?
Sisterly diadems joining hands.

What is breakfast?
A font of masonry.

What is hair?
January in murkiest black.

What is earthly paradise?
Jasmine and mace oscillating in the soft breeze.

Who are Scylla and Charybdis?
The spirits of trees ascending to heaven.

What is the paradox of death?
Inhabitants of leather jackets racing to the sea.

What is honey?
Ovulation.

art by Deger Bakir collages

The Plum

Lakeside houses rotate poignantly in the wind.
Coughing policemen step slowly
through the old testaments of doors.
Impurity carries on, like science,
in the marketplace of creams.

We open ourselves and find very normal blood
trailing through our veins
like lances.
We join hands, hope to find
a vision of blue ashes.
Under the fullness of sky you apply 
Italian engravings,
train me in the semantics
of lickable eyes.

Judges have passed this way in silence.

You have become
a resistant plum 
in the motion of day. 

art by federico hurtado 2011

The Plum

Lakeside houses rotate poignantly in the wind.
Coughing policemen step slowly
through the old testaments of doors.
Impurity carries on, like science,
in the marketplace of creams.

We open ourselves and find very normal blood
trailing through our veins
like lances.
We join hands, hope to find
a vision of blue ashes.
Under the fullness of sky you apply
Italian engravings,
train me in the semantics
of lickable eyes.

Judges have passed this way in silence.

You have become
a resistant plum
in the motion of day.

art by federico hurtado 2011

 Write the Most Beautiful Poem  

Beautiful rain that aims in every direction,  
trying to become an evil slice of masculinity.
 
Compact swelling in strict guessing districts  
like somnolent magazine organization racks  
straining toward imaginary rap music. 
Staples floating over half-and-half factories  
piecing together how forever behaves when it’s alone,  
thinking of you imploding in October’s gray chest.
 
The -ing is always wrong; the -ing is  
mass waiting for nine hours in the zoom  
 of beards. Inspiration is the true prow  
snipping at the ocean, a bob and weave,  
a surgery. Encourage the stamen, become  
a star’s radiation shadow imposed on galactic dust.  
Ease the cosmic noodle  
by halving the mind’s purple flower every five minutes.  
Heat a lamma’s vanilla heart and know forever  
how feet go to the umpire supply store.  
Drink the last bile of dawn.

art by 2ponto3

Write the Most Beautiful Poem

Beautiful rain that aims in every direction,
trying to become an evil slice of masculinity.

Compact swelling in strict guessing districts
like somnolent magazine organization racks
straining toward imaginary rap music.
Staples floating over half-and-half factories
piecing together how forever behaves when it’s alone,
thinking of you imploding in October’s gray chest.

The -ing is always wrong; the -ing is
mass waiting for nine hours in the zoom
of beards. Inspiration is the true prow
snipping at the ocean, a bob and weave,
a surgery. Encourage the stamen, become
a star’s radiation shadow imposed on galactic dust.
Ease the cosmic noodle
by halving the mind’s purple flower every five minutes.
Heat a lamma’s vanilla heart and know forever
how feet go to the umpire supply store.
Drink the last bile of dawn.

art by 2ponto3

Are You the Poet Brooks Lampe?

Carefully sell your iPhone on Craigslist.
Verify the existence of the other person.
Ask, “Are you the poet Brooks Lampe?”
or some equivalent query. 
Is death a great wound or a mineral bell wink?
Look what Coolidge says on page 348:
“Nothing crisper than a vein,”  and on 223: 
“Varieties notch.” There will be no direct sunlight today. 
Stay home and drink slugs. Make poem babies.
Shuffle slowly around the empty rooms and attics.

With a ghastly sneer Huysmans and Baudelaire
beckon you to open canisters of fine snuff,
to reestablish organic infiltration systems
of the mind. You wish to understand spleen, bile 
and gentle yellow rays. You wish to feel 
the rakish tilts of specters, the ennui of short tasks.
You want to know how to manipulate flowers, syntax, 
melancholy. Will the pus of psudeopod sockets
ever stop lisping the tub’s rim? You have a ways to go 
on this journey. Sneer at the book as you read. 

seed text: A Book Beginning What and Ending Away, by Clark Coolidge
art by anthony_cudahy

Are You the Poet Brooks Lampe?

Carefully sell your iPhone on Craigslist.
Verify the existence of the other person.
Ask, “Are you the poet Brooks Lampe?”
or some equivalent query.
Is death a great wound or a mineral bell wink?
Look what Coolidge says on page 348:
“Nothing crisper than a vein,” and on 223:
“Varieties notch.” There will be no direct sunlight today.
Stay home and drink slugs. Make poem babies.
Shuffle slowly around the empty rooms and attics.

With a ghastly sneer Huysmans and Baudelaire
beckon you to open canisters of fine snuff,
to reestablish organic infiltration systems
of the mind. You wish to understand spleen, bile
and gentle yellow rays. You wish to feel
the rakish tilts of specters, the ennui of short tasks.
You want to know how to manipulate flowers, syntax,
melancholy. Will the pus of psudeopod sockets
ever stop lisping the tub’s rim? You have a ways to go
on this journey. Sneer at the book as you read.

seed text: A Book Beginning What and Ending Away, by Clark Coolidge
art by anthony_cudahy

Des Esseintes Checks His Future

Tipsy women would meet him in the past and ask about his criminal mind. Their conversation, obvious in its aspirations, reached the corner shoemaker. His contempt for them was subtle and gaunt. Their cheekbones were punctuated with pearls, and they boasted a straight thin nose to seek refuge from the significance of ancient, courageous knights, descendants of La Brie. 

He was given to carnal repasts with a sum of squalid misery. To set foot on his other side, one needs roses in the library, bequeathed by his hands. They madden him, but he can never escape them. Into a tiny heap of wainscot and baccarat, he stacked large fortunes of artificial night. When the time came, he threw off  the parental yoke of ideas and renounced the enormous shells of nerves and races. 

He reached his full development. His mother, a comma of literature, was at some hushed retreat where conclusions pleased her into perfect repose. 

art by k mackowick

Des Esseintes Checks His Future

Tipsy women would meet him in the past and ask about his criminal mind. Their conversation, obvious in its aspirations, reached the corner shoemaker. His contempt for them was subtle and gaunt. Their cheekbones were punctuated with pearls, and they boasted a straight thin nose to seek refuge from the significance of ancient, courageous knights, descendants of La Brie.

He was given to carnal repasts with a sum of squalid misery. To set foot on his other side, one needs roses in the library, bequeathed by his hands. They madden him, but he can never escape them. Into a tiny heap of wainscot and baccarat, he stacked large fortunes of artificial night. When the time came, he threw off the parental yoke of ideas and renounced the enormous shells of nerves and races.

He reached his full development. His mother, a comma of literature, was at some hushed retreat where conclusions pleased her into perfect repose.

art by k mackowick

Adonis

Stretched out and laughing a wooden truth, too much upon the vanes, Basil resembled a rugged Adonis ivory leaf. He is a Narcissus, but swears it’s the intellect that exaggerates the moment when one sits down. 

"A nose is like the horrid profession of hideous churches. We don’t think the bishop is a consequence of delight or a mysterious friend.  It is a brainless creature, winter in a flower, chilled." 

A donuts flutters toward Lord Henry, not unlike a perfect deed. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Fatal distinction is a dog beside a faltered king. The difference is ugly, never at ease.” He gaped at the least defeat with undisturbed difference. “Will I never be bought with alien hands? Dorian Gray’s gods gave him the looks of names.” 

Lord Henry walked toward the hall, intending to tell without explaining. “I never surrender secrecy. Life is a marvelous hidden town. All pleasure is a silly habit bought through romance and foolish answers.”

seed text: The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde
art by owlwise12

Adonis

Stretched out and laughing a wooden truth, too much upon the vanes, Basil resembled a rugged Adonis ivory leaf. He is a Narcissus, but swears it’s the intellect that exaggerates the moment when one sits down.

"A nose is like the horrid profession of hideous churches. We don’t think the bishop is a consequence of delight or a mysterious friend. It is a brainless creature, winter in a flower, chilled."

A donuts flutters toward Lord Henry, not unlike a perfect deed. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Fatal distinction is a dog beside a faltered king. The difference is ugly, never at ease.” He gaped at the least defeat with undisturbed difference. “Will I never be bought with alien hands? Dorian Gray’s gods gave him the looks of names.”

Lord Henry walked toward the hall, intending to tell without explaining. “I never surrender secrecy. Life is a marvelous hidden town. All pleasure is a silly habit bought through romance and foolish answers.”

seed text: The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde
art by owlwise12

Impressive Dill

Odor stirs with heavy lilac pink. The corner divan lies with smoke in Henry’s rotten sweet honey hardness, so fan-like and fantastic with low intensity. Pallid Tokyo mobiles murmur like beasts monotonously insisting with impressive dill. In the center of the room clams stand full and personal in the distance of art. Basil gives public conjectures and looks. Mirror pleasure lingers, then suddenly starts with curious fear. “Your best thing,” says Lord Henry, “sends a groove with vulgar light.” The dread work knows what he answers, like friends from Oxford. He elevates and amazes in blue wreathes, tainted with fellow wines. The world reputes silly talk for portraits. Young men are capable of laughing, but  exhibitionism is too much. 

seed text: Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde
art by owlwise12

Impressive Dill

Odor stirs with heavy lilac pink. The corner divan lies with smoke in Henry’s rotten sweet honey hardness, so fan-like and fantastic with low intensity. Pallid Tokyo mobiles murmur like beasts monotonously insisting with impressive dill. In the center of the room clams stand full and personal in the distance of art. Basil gives public conjectures and looks. Mirror pleasure lingers, then suddenly starts with curious fear. “Your best thing,” says Lord Henry, “sends a groove with vulgar light.” The dread work knows what he answers, like friends from Oxford. He elevates and amazes in blue wreathes, tainted with fellow wines. The world reputes silly talk for portraits. Young men are capable of laughing, but exhibitionism is too much.

seed text: Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde
art by owlwise12

Art

Beautiful art translates new manners of things, highest and lowest, autobiographical. The corrupt charm of fault lines cultivate in the electric hoop of moral wit. The dislike of glass centuries knows the rage of Caliban. Subjects are imperfect, desiring the non-art of ethical pardons. Morbid expressions are not materials viewed. The musical actress surfaces laughing, sowing perilous spectacles. Diversity shows complexes of one accord. Forgive this man an admiring looseness, intensely wild.

seed text: Picture of Dorian Gray, Preface, by Oscar Wilde
art by Cerebral Lust

Art

Beautiful art translates new manners of things, highest and lowest, autobiographical. The corrupt charm of fault lines cultivate in the electric hoop of moral wit. The dislike of glass centuries knows the rage of Caliban. Subjects are imperfect, desiring the non-art of ethical pardons. Morbid expressions are not materials viewed. The musical actress surfaces laughing, sowing perilous spectacles. Diversity shows complexes of one accord. Forgive this man an admiring looseness, intensely wild.

seed text: Picture of Dorian Gray, Preface, by Oscar Wilde
art by Cerebral Lust

such a man

I hold that
such a man
presently did
give himself airs

to divert
by removing from place to place
the sword’s point;

for we see men
mad
cupping-glasses
towards another

wholly
to land again
naturally,

a boundless, an irrefragable
lavender
making shipwreck

some contrary
country
to satisfy
or excel

seed text: The Anatomy of Melancholy, by Robert Burton
art by Sylvie Théraulaz

such a man

I hold that
such a man
presently did
give himself airs

to divert
by removing from place to place
the sword’s point;

for we see men
mad
cupping-glasses
towards another

wholly
to land again
naturally,

a boundless, an irrefragable
lavender
making shipwreck

some contrary
country
to satisfy
or excel

seed text: The Anatomy of Melancholy, by Robert Burton
art by Sylvie Théraulaz

some

some dreams are
said once upon a time
in Boston

tempting
as it were
by long accumulated prestige

later she
would not be there
thinking of another

bigger than 
dwarves

they
kicked again
to say it
and inserted 
not loudly;

it was sudden
not strange

and there was never 
women
obstinate
when this
was 

how they did
to be here

seed text: Ida, by Gertrude Stein
art by Magaly Urgate

some

some dreams are
said once upon a time
in Boston

tempting
as it were
by long accumulated prestige

later she
would not be there
thinking of another

bigger than
dwarves

they
kicked again
to say it
and inserted
not loudly;

it was sudden
not strange

and there was never
women
obstinate
when this
was

how they did
to be here


seed text: Ida, by Gertrude Stein
art by Magaly Urgate

organized

we evidently
encroach
the organized 

such an apparently
common case
by the things which
inrush

subsistence
as a repetition
and account

the nervous system
to communicate
some simple mode

Voltaire
seeing stars,
a lightning flash—

architecture
blurred and diffuse

stimuli
capriciously downwards

convenient to separate
and sensitive

seed text: Principles of Literary Criticism
art by Loïc Bahougne

organized

we evidently
encroach
the organized

such an apparently
common case
by the things which
inrush

subsistence
as a repetition
and account

the nervous system
to communicate
some simple mode

Voltaire
seeing stars,
a lightning flash—

architecture
blurred and diffuse

stimuli
capriciously downwards

convenient to separate
and sensitive

seed text: Principles of Literary Criticism
art by Loïc Bahougne