Bump. Still time to vote for “Dunno. So much brilliance”, you independents.
I voted utter crap. But I didn’t read any of them.
It’s people like you who demean the legitimacy of my threads. PM yourself immediately.
What kind of poetry contest is this? Putting it off until the 14th?
Hoping that most of the contestants will “off” themselves because of the icy frown of the impeding winter or drink themselves into sullen, silken forgotten graves unmarked and unloved, before the actual date. 
4 days left. Dunno. So much brilliance.
And the winner is…
MR SANDMAN!
Bottle of Scotch and box of cheap cigars to be handed over at nearest convenience for THE WINNER and THE POETRY MODERATOR. 
Are you trying to get in the misquote thread?
I voted for Sandman. Yesterday.
Thankee kindly. Men and women of taste and style.
Can you repost the winning poem please?
Great poem Sandman–Grubby, Gritty, and Grand.
Wester Hailes Underpass, Winter 1978
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.
Straight off the top of my head, written in the time it took to type. Don’t know where it came from and still haven’t found any more. Its a true story though.
Buttercup thinks it mings and it truly does, but who are we to judge?
Sandman, you were tapping into a mysterious creative force, your body merely the conductor for it. Some call it inspiration, but I prefer the term Mucha Man coined, “Poetry Chi.”
Actually, Muzha Man occasionally holds poetry chi writing workshops in Taipei. You can learn to harness and use this energy. It’s certainly worthwhile - I attended a workshop last year. I still haven’t mastered the techniques though; as you noticed recently with my posts on forumosa, a novice practitioner can end up channeling dark forces from the Great White North.
Good poem by the way. I’ve always felt that you’re wasting your talents working as a proofreader at the China Post.
My Dear Taco by Chewycorns
Wow! Taco… it has been a long time
I like freshly picked peaches
Where the juices run constantly down your chin.
Oh!! The gentle licking of the fuzzy navel
It brings me back to simpler times, Taco.
“I was drunk at the time!”
Do you remember, Taco?
Proofreader?
I’M THE DAMN HEADLINE WRITER!!!
Proofreader?
I’m THE DAMN HEADLINE WRITER!!!
[/quote]
Sorry, forgot about your promotion.
A simple question before I tuck into my dinner of Speights and barbecued lamb; Is it my imagine or are you shouting more since you stopping wearing your hearing aid?
Proofreader?
I’m THE DAMN HEADLINE WRITER!!!
[/quote]
Sorry, forgot about your promotion.
A simple question before I tuck into my dinner of Speights and barbecued lamb; Is it my imagine or are you shouting more since you stopping wearing your hearing aid?[/quote]
I’m showing how firmly my finger’s on the pulse of Taiwan’s foreign media. The China Post is the one with that stupid prick in charge who does those massive gobbledegook headlines in giant letters, isn’t it? Somebody Lo? Roger maybe? A class-A moron, whatever his name is.
[quote=“sandman”]
Buttercup thinks it mings and it truly does, but who are we to judge?[/quote]
It does, mercilessly. It does somehow capture the spirit of … something. Herpes, perhaps?
Yes, the sting of herpes. Full blown folly. It didn’t make my dick stiff, but it almost certainly made it itch.
Deuce Dropper,
The scooter commuter
shooters at Hooters
play suitor then root her
two in cooter, one in the pooter