Ladies and dudes of the Culture Forum! Less than 17 hours late, I shall now post the entries! They will be posted anonymously,
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Through a Glass Darkly
(September 15, 1963, January 20, 2009)
A gathering like any Sunday morning
Days end four little girls dead, a time for mourning….in America
Shattered glass and Jesus crushed everywhere in the rubble
Why this? In order to be humble?
A hymnbook burning bright providing the flames of hell
One day a story in need of a bell
Now ascend the steps of time
Two little girls in a new morning
Colored as the four before, but now soaring
Now granted the wisdom of time
We read the Scripture sublime
“Through a glass darkly, but one day face to face”
These are the times that cross space
“Understood and we understand”
Lion lying down with the lamb
Nobody made you to post in all forums
Out of the faceless noisy crowd
Two of them stood side by side
Holding hands they boldly cried
"WE ARE THE SILENT MAJORITY!"
"We don't like it here not one little bit
You're all FOUL mouthed and full of S(p)IT!"
And so began this epic saga
Of good versus evil, clan rivalry DRAMA
And round and round and round they go
the trolls are everywhere you know
Kicking a wheelchair out of the way
a monstrous man makes his way
to the front, the front of the crowd
"We don't like CHEATS" he seems to say
But he coughed as he said it and nobody knows
what his words were as he rubbed his nose
Maybe he didn't say "don't" maybe he did
It's certain (as far as we know) that he knew what he did
And round and round and round they go
the trolls are everywhere you know
Ironman left and then Exe too,
they took down the list so now nobody new
can know what anyone old used to know
about what went on in the past too
More cheats are found on a daily basis
but the site gets better and better despite this
bit of a slur on an otherwise marvellous place
... if only there weren't any trolls
And round and round and round they go
the trolls are everywhere you know
Walter's Perfect Phucctoy
Walter seemed a good man,
But things turned very wrong
When Walter's new obsession
Just wouldn't play along
See Walter liked his women
Submissive, not too strong
Doting to his every need,
No mind to speak too long.
Clara was a beauty,
But life had dealt her shi+,
Working poles she earned some cash,
Enough to start legit.
One last night, she'd told the boss,
To draw the mongrels in,
Walter stood among the crowd,
As Clara flaunted skin.
Closing time came none too soon,
For Clara's cramping feet,
Clicking heels to her car,
Bare legs in need of heat.
Sprung from shadows, in her face,
Was Walter's smile sweet,
Politely he suggested
They plan to later meet.
Nervous laughter cutting in,
Sweet Clara did decline,
Just as foreseen, Walter thought,
As he produced the twine,
Precut lengths, two in his fist,
As Clara's keys did shine,
In light too dim to find the lock
Before his punch found spine.
Violently he took her down
Face smashed into cement
Wrists and ankles quickly tied
Too shocked to scream, then sent
Into his trunk, pain screeching now
Her body badly bent
Walter slammed the lid down fast
Into the night she went.
~
Slowly Clara woke
And quickly was alert
Memory still quite intact
She feared she might be hurt
Closed lids slowly opened
Scraping eyes with dirt
Focus landing hazily
On Walter's bloodied shirt
Panic searing back now
Her body urged to flee
No reaction from her legs
Her eyes shot down to see
Signaling her arms to help
Her efforts to get free
Nothing working, she can't move
Pure immobility
Peeling dry lips from the gum
And working her throat clear
Tries to speak, to ask him Why.
Her eye lets loose a tear
Feeling sick with terror as
He turns to lean in near
Thick scream building in her throat
He whispers in her ear :
Sweet and darling Clara
You should not be awake
I've finished for the most part,
But have some left to take.
Your limbs are true perfection
And came off with a shake
After the cuts were cauterized
And each bone I did break
Your velvet tongue was trying
It took me quite a while
Don't you fear though Clara
Don't love you for your smile
Teeth cracked out quite simply
Remnants smoothed by file
Vocal chords sliced tenderly
You've stitches by the mile
~
Walter's perfect fucctoy
She wailed so silently
Watched as Walter grabbed his shears
From close proximity
Silken strands of golden hair
Hacked off quite hastily
Clippers mowing to her scalp
His razor swept cleanly
Screaming for her mama
And a God long forgot
Clara hung from Walter's wall
Her hook through a strong knot
Shears replaced by brass handle
Two sterile bolts he got
Installation holes predrilled
After the numbing shot
Which must be wearing thin by now
As hours since have passed
Love handle screwed to gleaming head
Her eyes now fully glassed
But vital signs are looking good
For years and years she'll last
Stepping back to eye his prize
Yes, this work's unsurpassed.
Lube the tube and down her throat
Her feeding guaranteed
No need for a catheter
Or s(ch)it-bag to impede
Upon his freedom to make use
Depending on his need
Of each and every hole she has
Oh phucc, he'll make her bleed!
From his basement work table
He pulls her royal gown
A bag hand sewn from thick canvas
He bought last week in town
Sized just right with zippered front
Two airholes, painted frown,
She should be very comfortable
Until the swelling's down.
The Wood of Humanity
The cedars of Lebanon were known to be tall and straight
The mustard plant of Jesus of much to make
Kudzu on a hillside from the Orient
Ash from Pennsylvania on baseball bats spent
The grand oak that is run through a lathe
The mahogany echoing the notes that are played
The maple bearing the sweet sap of winter
The swampy cypress grainy and full of splinters
A small green fir pointing to the heavens
Symbolic of the star which for all it beckons
But my tree is broken at the top and holds no star
A reminder of grace gone afar
An ornament here an ornament there
Masking the pain that I must bear
Why is this tree talking to me?
It is telling me I am its seed
To grow in glory even in disfigurement
Is this for me God’s covenant?
The beggar
You sit down there a big disgrace
a translucent look upon your face
a bag of garbage to be swept away
when next the cleaner comes your way
and people smile as they pass you by
and don't dare look 'case you catch their eye
and they'll have to see this heap of trash
and they're all quite sure you've got a stash
somewhere ...
And when that wheel of fortune spun
and it turned right round and a starter's gun
set off a crack! and a spark begun
in someone's belly
- a mass of jelly that grew and grew
then out popped you -
did you ask for this?
I don't think so.
You weren't to know.
The Blanket Out of Time and Space
The Blanket Out of Time and Out of Space
advances by degrees as it unrolls
across the psychic sofa, then the face
exposes, by the eyes' infected coals,
the presence of the Blanket, and extols
the flat or nauseous notions that replace
and smother, sleeping, values, lusts and goals.
The Blanket Out of Time, surrounds the space
which heretofore the sleeper sought to fill
with varied things the Blanket will replace:
the Pillow of Love and the Duvet of Will,
even Perceptual Linen, until,
impossibly heavy reticular lace
binds and renders all it clutches still.
The Blanket Out of Time, as nearest Space
can be conquered for a time by force of mind.
Discipline and chemistry embrace;
launch the sleeper in impeccably design'd
spacecraft, sent to pierce the nets that bind!
As funding fails the boldest rocket race,
this mission never leaves the bed behind.
The Blanket Out of Time, as deepest Space
is to anthracite as black to white, in shade,
and by this darkness often will efface
the wretched vulgar rope and razorblade,
until the sleeper's final card is played
and the Blanket flies away without a trace
and leaves the sleeper morbidly decayed.
Belgrade 1999
Again the dreaded dark replaces day
No children play. The city streets lie bare
Wait for sirens' wails to show the way
An awsome, threatening silence fills the air.
Like rats from shattered homes they crawl
Tired eyes made active, keen, awake
Underground where lethal bombs can't fall
A source of solace take.
Is this a grave, a concrete tomb in which to die?
As above the sound of thunder shakes the ground
Counting hours and minutes, huddled close they lie
In wonder if by daybreak they'll be found.
Latch on, take aim, strike, a hit!
The pilot's eyes shine with pride and joy
A tyrant's stance may move, may shift a bit
The cost? Another bloodied, orphaned boy.
And when in time the missiles run their course
The screaming stops, the wailing fades away
Will we wait, pause, stop to seek a cause
Or just rebuild to fight another day?
Flying
Legs pumping in rhythm I'm flying through the air
pedals pushing the wind through my hair
along the road like a thought
Ignoring the mirrors she sits in comfort
oblivious to all else but
her wrong turns that took her there
The open road and I'm flying through the air
At peace and without a care
till traffic approaches - a jam
She's wondering Is this where I am,
trying to read a scrawled map in a jam
I'll turn around there
Overtaking the cars I'm flying through the air
the parked up drivers stop and stare
and wish they weren't stuck
She puts down her foot - such luck!
I'm flying through the air - Oh FVCK!
The wheel squeals round
Flying through the air ... I'm on the ground
There isn't a sound
except the dull echo of a sickening thud
Oblivion flickers like a worn out video
The inside of an ambulance ... The fitting of an orAnge neck brace ..
Fragments of faces and broken conversations ...
Pain, X-rays and Cat scans ...
Doctors and Nurses busy and efficient
Being left alone ...
Tears
Inaugural Address
Hear Ye! Hear Ye! One and All!
My brothaz on the National Mall
And all the white folks gathered ‘round,
Mulatos too, half white, half brown…
The White House, building of great fame
Shall now be known by its new name –
The Crib is what it will now be called
There’s some new brown paint found on the walls
Not graffiti, not vandalism
But a portrait of the freshest presidentialism
Who’s that brown face in the shiny gold frame?
Barak Obama – remember the name
Put in office by the BWA
This shall go down as our proudest day
Above all that our glorious clan has done
Our proudest feat – a presidency won
Things ‘round here is about to change
No more Dixie, or Home on the Range
America the Beautiful, a song way to whack
Sing a new national anthem: America the Black!
From this day on, year out and year in
We shall be led by a man of great skin
Pass the 40 around, on the ground we shall pour
A few sips for the white presidents of yore.
Brothaz hail Obama, straight from the Motherland!
It’s a black thing, you wouldn’t understand
If you too white, then I’m sure you won’t
Better aks somebody if you don’t!