Kick Ass....Poetry :) xoxo

http://kickbuttcoffee.com/kick-butt-...stin-texas.htm





Don't you love the way I "slam"?



Yeah!!??


:-D


just kidding, I was the the one behind the camera.

xoxo





http://kickbuttcoffee.com/kick-butt-...stin-texas.htm

I could only hear about every third or forth word !

It's a poem about a stripper, telling her story about how and why she does "this"...for her child.

Cool , good for her . But they were trying a little too hard to be street . Probably a lot easier to hear live , like most things .

That clip was inspirational, Joan.

A rambling rose swells with Darjeeling kombucha,
Thus the morning emanates between the purple oyster's labia.
A wet Cardinal Ximénez calls forth the spasms of Inquisitional sorrow.
Eternity quivers in his greenhouses of well-oiled slaughter.

The ocean ponders the sun's itchy patchy ecstasy.
Stop!
The desert aches for vitreous dew drops shaken from the stink-lily.
Cool!
A wanderer gulps the morning's steamy Kopi Luwak.
Will a butterbean rose get jiggy with Eternity's plantains?
The sun calls forth the moon's delightful dirty starfish,
While the desert holds parliamentary meetings on barren vulvae without the benefit of Robert's Rules of Order.

The sea dubsteps to cerulean bliss.
Wang! Dang! Sweet poon-tang!
My gloved fingers linger in pre-moistened dewlaps,
But Batman bathes in the golden shower of Blondie's "Rapture"
As Fab Five Freddie points out Bruce Wayne's open fly.
Fuggedaboudit.

Aunt Harriet was a dyke.
Don't take my word for it.
Smell my finger.

Nice Carl , especially like the Nugent quote !
If your fingers were gloved , how do they smell?

No, D.H.

That was Never written in the poem! :-(


Blame the writer for it seeming to sound that way. Or, you may want to invest in a hearing aid!


P.s--- I will tell "Carl" you hate it ;-)

I'm confused , how do you hear the written word ?

Im so sorry, my computer is slow/way behind. I misunderstood. I take back my above comment...

I don't understand your poem however,...

Did you mean it to be an insult? (I'm a big girl, I can handle it)

What I understood of it was about a being, aching for life, for meaning, for ..something. Then it went off to it sounding a bit derogatory. And do correct me if I'm wrong.

Nice Carl , especially like the Nugent quote !
If your fingers were gloved , how do they smell? Originally Posted by DIE HARD

My hand belongs to me, just as the glove belongs to me and the glove's fingers also belong to me.

Don't think linearly. Think in multidimensional layers.

I don't understand your poem however,...

Did you mean it to be an insult? (I'm a big girl, I can handle it)

What I understood of it was about a being, aching for life, for meaning, for ..something. Then it went off to it sounding a bit derogatory. And do correct me if I'm wrong. Originally Posted by Joan

In the words of Archibald MacLeish, "A poem should not mean, but be." The purpose of art, whether poetry, prose, film, or any other form is to be intelligible and accessible enough to start a conversation with the audience but vague enough for each and every member of the audience to insert their own meaning.

Make of it what you will.

Right now, I'm eating olives.