The great poetry showdown has a winner!

That’s an enigma. Stigma. Manifestation of untoward unholiness.
I’m
Proud,
That the old silverback still has his back.

That’s an enigma. Stigma. Manifestation of untoward unholiness.
I’m
Proud,
That the old silverback still has his back.[/quote]
You were given a haiku. Stop already with the competitive profundity.

[quote=“sandman”]Kiss your pockmarked, centuries-old face,
Your smacked-out junkie lips
In the bone-chilling cold of the subterranean cast concrete,
Bastardized by the profane ineptitude of the disadvantaged
With still the hard cold skag-cash that could not have been
Better spent.
Still I get a hardon and my mind swoons.
Your goose-pimpled thighs run rough under my chapped hands,
But I care not.
I’m getting my hole. I can feel it. I can taste it. Smell.
The last night’s hair gel and mascara run down my cheeks
And I taste it like a bitter miasma of things I should have done
(Had I heeded my parents’ advice)
And I revel in the utter revulsion,
The utter awareness that I’m in the
Moment.
And you’re not.[/quote]
“And you’re not” was edited out by snadman lite, who thinks it makes the writer sound even more daft than he is.

Don’t dredge. Some things are
Better left
Unsaid.

That’s an enigma. Stigma. Manifestation of untoward unholiness.
I’m
Proud,
That the old silverback still has his back.[/quote]
You were given a haiku. Stop already with the competitive profundity.[/quote]
Catch a wave and you
Too, could be
Sitting on top of
The World.

Can’t we vote for more than one? My favorites so far are (I edited the first one) :stuck_out_tongue: :

[quote=“the chief”]Midnight city
Broken tales
Of wonder, faith, and heart
Of legends whispered
For love lost
Without a chance to start
The Lonely Man
Stands, hunched and braced
He stares into the [strike]void[/strike]gin
Salvation close
Just within reach
Wondering
If [strike]they’d[/strike] only he had been born
[strike]Play some Floyd[/strike]Leonard Cohen[/quote]

And this one which is Flobtastic:

[quote=“Dragonbones”]Her eyes like glittering spider webs,
laced with early morning dew
capture fast my fluttering spirit,
lost in their enchanting view.[/quote]

But I give mine to the Bukowski/Ginsberg twist on this one. Did you really write that? I’ll give you all upper case for that one. WOW.

[quote=“sandman”]Kiss your pockmarked, centuries-old face,
Your smacked-out junkie lips
In the bone-chilling cold of the subterranean cast concrete,
Bastardized by the profane ineptitude of the disadvantaged
With still the hard cold skag-cash that could not have been
Better spent.
Still I get a hardon and my mind swoons.
Your goose-pimpled thighs run rough under my chapped hands,
But I care not.
I’m getting my hole. I can feel it. I can taste it. Smell.
The last night’s hair gel and mascara run down my cheeks
And I taste it like a bitter miasma of things I should have done
(Had I heeded my parents’ advice)
And I revel in the utter revulsion,
The utter awareness that I’m in the
Moment
And you’re not.[/quote]

Ode de Adult Engrishy Classes

My blood simmers. I find myself chewing on anything that comes along.
The dirt of Taipei has infected my dreams
The sooty surfaces of the chick’s boots only make me randier with their filth.
I dream of sleek ladies barking in the night
Their chins scraping against the blackboard, as I do them from behind.
My dreams have recycled everything of the human past
Everything is awash in urine and lust, the urine a kind of propaganda
Adult demonstrations, juicy tacos, 550NT per hour, and cheap libations.
Has the Maple Syrup arrived?

I voted for thechief before I even saw what we are supposed to look at. When I get around to looking at what I am supposed to be voting over I will still vote for thechief. So he needs another vote tallied, banana man.

I woke to find the garden changed,
We don’t float in air.
and she said i must write this thing
My life began to care.

(punctuation is deliberate)

This was orignally meant to be a spoken word that I preformed in college:

Insight
From others I question insight
As I peer through the paradigm of a belated mindest
Related to what I can’t forget…
You

But reality brings sobering concoctions
Of thoughts when a man had his own options
Often which could not be revealed
Until you stepped out of the picture
And the book was sealed

For when I looked in retrospect
It became clear to me that in your mind
Was a cryptic septic tank
And the further I sank
It ranked of a repugnant excrement
Left behind by your dispicable decadence

What an awakening is the pain of a mishapen fate
That only brings dogs to the gate
Of a marriage that exists solely in a state –
Of mind, the kind that sends misery down my spine

That is why from others I question insight because
In hindsight what they say is trite
They only play on one side of this fight

And you could never truly correct this
Without the realization
That a subjugation could bring about unwanted domination
That which if eradicated would brake the static
And I could say “I’ve had it” and follow my own way
And save face from the games you choose to play

Four more days for entries, chaps and chapettes.

[quote=“almas john”]Ode de Adult Engrishy Classes

My blood simmers. I find myself chewing on anything that comes along.
The dirt of Taipei has infected my dreams
The sooty surfaces of the chick’s boots only make me randier with their filth.
I dream of sleek ladies barking in the night
Their chins scraping against the blackboard, as I do them from behind.
My dreams have recycled everything of the human past
Everything is awash in urine and lust, the urine a kind of propaganda
Adult demonstrations, juicy tacos, 550NT per hour, and cheap libations.
Has the Maple Syrup arrived?[/quote]
Well said. Gritty realism.
Perhaps you might work something into it about …"…a Lad from Nantucket…"… :ponder:

:hand: I too
once lead,
but alas
I’ve lost.
My votes
once cast,
are now
cast aside.

(Fucking Cocksuckers!)
(Cheating Bastards!)
:fume:

Read the rules, ladies. Voting starts on the 24th of October.
Every time I add someone to the poll, it clears.
No more poets will be added after the 24th.

EYE am the VOICE of a GENERATION! I shall NOT go gently into that good night. I SHALL NOT! CHARLATANS! FALSE PROPHETS! BECURSED art THOU! No more shall I rhyme. Because I have been SORELY wronged by the WING-ED serpents of vile vissicitude.
HEATHENS! BENIGHTED FOOLS! I CURSE the foetid loins of your swamp-crawling forefathers. YOUR NAMES! It is YOUR NAMES! that will live in INFAMY!
Dastardly dealings afoot!

Which ‘good night’?

MY poem had women’s thighs in it. I’ll say no more, but the imputation is without question.

An EVIL cabal of philistinism, your ilk will reap the fucking whirlwind. The WHIRLWIND!
Mark my words, and mark them WELL, you naysayers and cut-price lager-swilling AMENTS. For your time WILL come, and vengeance will be swift and sure. That terrible swift sword shall be but a toothpick compared to MY judgment.

I think you should have a sit down.

I would enter the email I just wrote, if confidentiality didn’t make that impossible. It was beautiful.

I would like to enter this competition, but little mention has been made of the prize, jp. I doubt I can be arsed unless there will be significant financial payoff. What say you?

Oh, just write yer little poem like the rest of us hacks!

Or was that it?

The prize is a bottle of Scotch and a box of cheap cigars. What else do great poets need, apart from opium?