Ou Be Low hoo's Astounding Works Of Staggering Genius...
Due to popular demand and a desire for salubrious succinctness, I have compilled my current catalogue of masterpieces all together under this lovely, thatched roof...The straw is real, you know...
From time to time, when fancy fills my sail and moves me ever North-East-South-Westward, I shall return to this place of many things to contribute another example of my ever blooming brilliance. The brightness of it is likely to astound and the magnitude of it's significance will always be staggering large and weighty, like an ocean liner.
Please feel free to flatter me...
Also, you are welcome to plagiarise my work if your mind, heart and soul are not as onomatopoeically extravagant and as aesthetically indulgent as my own.
Furthermore, if anyone amongst you requires medical help for your poetic maladies; I would be happy to dress their wounds. Simply, copy and post your poem in this thread and I shall doctor it to resemble something more brilliant. I require no fee for this service. It is my gift to you.
By the by, I generally like to close a poem with the sequitur 'Fin' as the French are in tune with my notions of truth, beauty and the mind.
Fin.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
'Odontoglossum Harryanum' was once a thing I eye-balled.
Now it's time has past and Seasons morph,
From clouded sky to sunny rays,
The light in my eyes forever shall never fade.
To rhyme with no reason maketh no foot,
So to boot the crap and eat thyself.
My words said backwards reveal the truth,
Spoon-forced-fed and all uncooth.
The trip to the top is not the tryst.
So forget all leave and love thyself.
My cheese beats two goats from any Ramblesworth,
But to whine all the time and nothing else?
The libertine said "Do it now!"
But to retort the thought lost it's use,
And now grumbles amble beneath the tree
Root and stem, my brothers, sisters...remember them!
And to fit the finale is all but round,
Back-to-front and upside-down.
It has happened and shall finish soon,
So don't forget to leave some room.
The End ain't nigh, the truth was told,
So on it went...and still it goes.
Getting bored, time to stop...
Plank, gank, stank the loaded elf.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
Down by six,
All over with tricks.
Found the last score,
Can't deny it no more.
By the twelth eleven,
We'll be playing for score and seven.
All the World will appreciate,
No more time to be irate.
The nine by four?
Around no more.
Time to work, the hours go by,
Sometimes slow, sometimes fly.
In the end,
That circle that bends.
It's not going to stop,
Flip-flop, flip-flop.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
Twist on the ribbons,
Twirl them round and round,
Yellow, blue and upside down;
Float them, steal them, say their name,
Cherish them, love them, it's all the same;
Superflous decoration on perfect pearls,
Why the ribbon? Why not just pearls?
Too much, more and more, Stop! That's it!
No more for me, I'm feelin sick!
In the end, it's all that's needed...
A shape, a face and a voice to breathe with.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
All slipped up, ready to rouse,
Take your medicine, no time to drouse,
In your head, that's where it's at,
Not thinking whether to use that gat,
Drop it, crush it, make it no more,
Leave it as an ornament to prop up your door,
Floor, your, four-score-and-ten,
Lying cold in your coffin trying to remember them,
Wake in life, sleep in death,
Just don't forget about the peppermints for your breath.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
This next one has been posted in the 'General Fiction Area', but it is more befitting of the 'Epic Poem' sobriquet in tune with Dante's Divine Comedy, Keats' Endymion and Homer's Odyssey...
Away on whispering Walrus...
Became of time and it was then that I of mighty force reached and prowered. In the truth of it, much as is was now, the life of my road before me stretched forth and across as all but the widest rainbow. Colours of light and shades so pale, it looked not unlike all that was once before the fall of this, then, thigh.
Across the padded river did I ever troll my logged legs, so heavy beneath the umber of all that was before. On shoulders, taught and toothed by others, was I alone in my reverie whilst all around I strode. Becoming what was hence never seen again, did I strike first like the shadow of a branch at the call of the moon. Time to sleep, to dream, to remember Shakespeare and the cause of the calamity. Did I follow such a road that was hidden by others? "Perhaps, yes, maybe", a wiser man than I would say, but answering it proved to be less evident.
Then, while time strolled, I found at once my legs were on the run! "Halt!", said I, in mocking encouragement, but alas their time was NOW and I merely straddled the rock and watched the moonlight shiver in the cold, dark sky as I waited for them to return with their friend, The Sun.
In morning time, of light and sun, became myself once more and then. With rested ways and lightness of foot, I rose like a flower in Spring's first bloom and greeted the day of yesterday's child. It was at once anew and all familiar, but like the passage of time through an hour-glass' sand, it began it's journey of progression...
My time, being forever bound to that which is not mine, expanded and stretched like the horizon before me. The final tail of the dog's elbow was there before me, whilst at the same time teasing forever behind me. Why to tease and taunt? Have I, in my travelled ways, never paid homage to thee? Of course, this would be inopportune to whine, but forever does it feel like a trick less cooked.
At the thought of my famishment, I regarded my wares and rewarded myself with the nectar of fleshy pears. An ample appetiser, but body - being strong - demanded greater sustenance for the trek ahead. With my eyes of sight and my ears of sound, I looked, heared and watched for food to be found. There, in the twinkle of my ear and the whisp of my eye, spotted I a flavoursome meal, to be boiled, roasted or broiled. It but was a rabbit before, but now, a hearty meal.
Please note: It is far from complete and has been slightly edited from it's original form...
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
Next, we have a collection of notes that I amassed during my spell in isolation...
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 1 - The Remedy
On first finding myself surrounded by 4 walls, 1 ceiling and a floor, my intial thoughts were "Where in the wheetabix am I?"...After 4 seconds of precise deduction and logistical reasoning, I came. To the conclusion that where I was was somewhere I hadn't not not been before....This usettled me less than a little, but not as much as nuthin but a G-thang, baby...I knew I had my wits, but what if they were wittled away by the wind? Silly thinking, I know...You don't get wind in a woom. After realising my predicament I spent some time contemplating the answer to "Yes?"...
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 2 - The Abyss and The Frog Boy
Moons jumped and suns swept, but still my time of reflection continued. The answer to the 'yes' question became more and more convoluted as it was infected by the moss and the grime of the grim grumbling cage that was my home. 'Does the caged bird sing as sweet as the free feathered friend?' I asked myself...The response was not what it wasn't and certainly didn't not it was. My mind seemed to grow dull at the dinge in solitary, but frequently I would obliterate my worries by roaming in my minds eye-eye. Captain, what course for the island? "I know not the place of our being, yet the North Star shall guide us", said he. A wise, old salt never needed seasoning, that was for sure! The enveloping actual darkness was one day lit by a candle of a croak...A dear friend I came to know and love as 'Frog Boy'! There was I waiting for my drifting, when through the crack in Celia's door hip-hopperty-hopped the ol' winger! "What the biz?', said FB..."The trees are a fine shade this time of year, aren't they not?", continued he. At first glance, I was taken a step back-attack by his barracking brogue, but with crystal vision I understood and talked, he did, about the world out-side, as I grew cold in here...
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 3 - Suffoofering-ing
The cold chilled my bones to brittle stalactites drooping in the gloom. The sun shone not for me, but for you and people like you. This was the way of my world. A world without light, only darkness and decay. A world with me, myself and no eye for company, for Frog Boy had long departed in search of adventures new. It was with a sad heart he left me all alone in the grunge, but I understood his stool. He is a child of the light. A bringer of light to dark places, not just for me, but for others who had been banished from where they once called 'Home' and where once home had called them 'Mine'. In this blanket solitude, I confused myself with me and had an argument over a saddle. "A saddle and no horse?", I thought...Yes, no horse...how strange.
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 4 - The Spillage
Life became a dreary, drudgery of droning dullness. Not a sound was uttered - neither garbled, not spoke - by anyone, two, three, four, five, once I caugt a fish alive. The day began as it ended - in silence. Old Mother Goose gandered on and on about the goldeness and wot-not-wot of silence, but to me...in that place...well...It wasn't fun, I can tell ya. Occasionally, I would peak through the iron bars of my bondage and catch a glimpse of a ball yet caught. It was like watching a rainbow fall from it's lofty peak into the ether from whence it came. This life was no life, but bark on bark and tooth of tale. It seemed inhuman to cast my being into such a vacuous pit, but such is the need of little people, with big positions..."Assert thy authority! Make an example! Don't delay, what you can do today!" - this is the mantra of that sort. Such a shame that power in the hands of an whisp becomes a sting in the tale of a wasp. Corruption and incompetance walking hand in hand, while stars crawl foot to foot on a dirty floor! The spillage occured during recess. I dropped an egg out of my cup. It broke. The egg that is. The cup was/is fine, thanks for asking come again.
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 5 - The Quaffle
"Stootin' Tuesdays when all is went-up and blimped"...This was the kind of thought that would pervade the crevices of my mind. It was like a drunken drill infatuated with the sound of it's own monotony as it bore away into the duldrums divine. Such utter consistency made my monkey sore and my fingers even more starched. I needed escape, but here I was slapped and bound between an idiot and a renegade! What life is this, that binds the beauty of being with the bell of bucolically? Prevarication was never an option in the face of their blight. They wanted nothing from me, but my silence and my movement. They had both for a while, but in the end I am free and they are still slaves to their laws and patrons to their 'peace'. Some hopes rise and fall with the tides, but theirs is a nothingness that can not be broken by sun, sea or saviour. Life like that is undeserving of the word. Trill me, fish me, fillet me - you will never fully berate me.
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 6 - Margarita Time!
With such slow suddenness that it would have confused the hare and the tortise, my life in the box of my revery became brighter and altogether more illuminated. The reason for such a sequence of diffusion can be attributed to the arbitrary nature of my nurture: I was one of the few born inside a martini glass that was close to over-flowing with margarita and all things Tequila. Gold, naturally...From this liquid birth, to my liquid rebirth during 'Margarita Time', I became less ensconced with my previous surroundings and delved deeper into the truculent circle that I found myself a victim of...Such bouts of self-discovery rewarded me with merriment and a severe case of the wibble-wobbles. Such is life, thought I..."Trick-truck!
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 7 - The Bacchanalian Frenzy
Twisted tops and twinned towns of tomorrow didn't head the horn of hope calling through the blustery winds of the valley's vibrating rhythm. It was with Dionysian delight I delected to divulge my duty to those despotic dullards who confirmed their cruelty by the contradiction of the claims! Oh and how! Such drivel delighted the drones who drove on and downwards to their deity's dungeon. "Follow the filth!" thought one and all with the mighty conviction of corruption and the ceasing of civility...The tide ebbed and flowed in the cauldron of their vacuous minds as I, your heretic hero, hobbled half-harmed and hopeless. The barrage of their brainless brutality bruised and bludgeoned the believers whilst demonstrating even more distaste for the deserters...Amid the atrocities of the doomed, I, alone stood...The summoning of their tumultuous torment neither blackened my beauty nor dissolved my desire. Who am I to question the moronic nature of 'man', when all I hold in my possession is the perception of their ridicule? Oh well, I'll take a melon and proscuitto salad, thanks.
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 8 - The Golden Ratio
"Trig, Trig, Trig...BOOOOOM!", Said The Pyramid. The Pyramid, through a course of self-deprecation, had acquiesced with my attractive attributes to the point of a mutual affinity. "All is as was and forever will be" was one of his favorite sayings. Many times he would couple it with a slight in-take of breath through his teeth which sounded like a rabbit blowing bubbles through a blade of freshly plucked grass...Ahhhh, those were the sounds sent from Mana! From within, to without...Much of my mind's eye was trained to focus on the far as it flirted with the fear of all thigns too near. At a distance it could discern, whilst a close proximity left it feeling rather deflated by the piercing nature of my current palpability...I knew that in time, my real reverie would return...But still...I waited for that time. Waiting was all that I could do while I wallowed in that well of impoundment. Slip me a fish and I'll make us a BBQ to broil it on.
The final part goes something like this...
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 9 - The Fin
Fin-fin-fin, fin fin-fin fin. Fin? Fin-fin. Fin!
Fin.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
You're all too kind...too kind, by far! I'm currently brain-scrambled by the delights of Filipino Rum mixed with freshly squeezed lemons, ice and a littttttttttttttttle tipppppppppppppppppppple of the Devil's soda, Coke. Check me, check you and show me the money.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
I, myself, me, mine, my and mon are rather attune to the aestheticism of symmetry, so I would like to conclude the 'Notes' collection, with a lovely and round '10'...
Notes from a dark, dark hole: Part 10 - The Chromatic Ether
From above, under below and all around and in-between, the magic of the wind curled like a ball of soft velvet among the languid, pillows of the wandering trees. There nature was the dawn and their power was the night. In this mix of truths and lies was I, the ray, the light, the torch. Darkness smothered, eclipsed and strangled, but even the slender moon has a way of making itself heard, so for one so bold as I, illumination was not a situation that caused a quandary. In the midst of this muddy murk, grew flame and fire as the ground bubbled and the wind sang. In some moments of time, the world opened-up like a sieve and shards of broken colour permeated the blanket sky. To behold this sight was indeed an invocation of life. For to tell the tale with embellishment would corrupt and curdle the apocalypse of it's beauty. In days to past, this, then, there and now was all the recompense I ever needed.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
Gender: Female Location: every which way but loose
I would usually assume that when a person uses as extensive a vocabulary as you have used in the notes above, it is fair to say that they probably know the exact definition of only three quarters, if that. But, for some inexplicable reason, I felt no such assumption upon reading your work. I tried numerous times to picture what you were describing and the image slipped away like a vivid dream on waking... frustrating to the max but oh so enjoyable! Also, I think you may ba a touch insane, but you make the state of your state of mind seem so worthy of covet. I am literally desperate for more and I don't generally admit that so openly
I guess you must have taken a slight sojourn from your current location to flutter at my own abode. For this, I thank you.
As for the words I use...I'm not trying to alienate those who have a more limited vocabulary. I'm simply choosing words that sounds more beautiful and pertinent to my ear/eye....'languid' or 'tired', the choice is clear to me...
Also, I find the literal meaning of the piece as a whole to be of secondary importance to the evocativeness of the descriptions. If that makes any sense...
As for the state of my mind...I like to take weekend breaks in the land of the insane, but I feel it is more of a case of having read many 'insane' books...
Anyway, I'm sounding far too pretentious, so I shall cease my verboseness.
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
Gender: Female Location: every which way but loose
I appreciate it may seem I have strayed from my usual route in order to comment here, but that's not the case... this entire section is in existence due to my personal request and others' obvious interest... of course, if you meant you are grateful for my allowing myself to disconnect from reality momentarily, I can assure you it wasn't the hardest thing I have ever done
Anyway, I cannot be bothered with the effort of sounding like a dictionary, so if I come across as ignorant then it's me being lazy
I understand why you're opting for the more harmonious lexical choices; I'm sure most people would do the same if they were capable. That's one of the main reasons I write poetry, I love the sounds. The messages you convey are interpreted in so many various ways by every individual that I guess to have a distinct meaning would be kinda pointless... at least that's my main reason for concentrating more on the structure than the content.
Au contraire, my dear...Au contraire...I was merely remarking that you were 'stroking my ego', rather than your own...
Using BIG words is not synonymous with intelligence. Although there are always exceptions to the rule...
Snap!
Ulysses - Joyce
The Crying of Lot 49 - Pynchon
Ghostwritten - Mitchell
Cloud Atlas - Mitchell
Gulliver's Travels - Swift
Catcher in the Rye - Salinger
The Jitterbug Perfume - Robbins
Heart of Darkness - Conrad
1984 - Orwell
The Divine Comedy - Dante
Catch-22 - Heller
On The Road - Karouac
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Adams
Foucault's Pendulum - Eco
To the Lighthouse - Woolf
Love in the Time of Cholera - Marquez
The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Kundera
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - Pirsig
The Great White Shark Hunt - Thompson
The Waste Land - Eliot
These spring readily to mind, however there are others...
__________________ Come, my child...Your life begins here...
KMC Community Forums
Apr 22nd, 2005 04:55 AM
OBLh 
But that's what a dictionary is for 
