Snap daddy-o. Poetry corner
No, this week's update will not deal with the future; I thought that maybe I could go off on a different tangent today, something a bit closer to the heart. I mean surviving in a bizarre alien post-apocalyptic wasteland is cool and all, but it doesn't really coincide with the lives that most of our readers have chosen. I have decided that this update will not pander to the minority and instead I will give back something that all of our readers can enjoy.

That's right, I'm talking about poetry. (I certainly saw that coming - Odovaucer) Everyone has an artist in his breast; everyone wants something beautiful once in a while, like a flower.



Ain't it pretty? But sometimes we crave something that twangs at our emotions, not just our eyes. That's who this segment is for, people who want some twanging in their bellies. I was on the job! First order of business, find some poetry. Fortunately for you readers I realize that not all poetry is good, so I've decided to use a few lemony tricks to find excellent poetry. The first source I scoured? Livejournal. I did a community search for "bitchin' poetry", but unfortunately no communities or inmdividual users currently exist for the sole purpose of creating bitchin' poetry. Luckily I had a few more tricks up my sleeve. My next search was for "awesome poetry," and boy did it deliver.

Without further delay I give you some of livejournal's very best "awesome poetry".

drunken mailman;

i think my mailman's been boozing it up
he comes later and later every day
he's grown a beard within the past month
and his hair has gotten grey

i think my mailman's been boozing it up
here endeth the story
would he start coming earlier
if i left him a 40?

Now if that doesn't get your artist juices/sentiments/libido going I don't know what will. But what's that? One poem isn't enough to quench your thirst for all things emotional and deep? (Oh lord, let it stop now - Odovaucer, girding himself for the worst.) Well then it's google to the rescue. Where livejournal failed Erik would succeed. Constructing an entire web page based on his bitchin' (ass) poetry, he truly is a king amongst men. Here is a sample of the kind of poetry that you too could make if you were as bitchin' as Erik.

A Tire on Fire

ERIKMARTIN

I am a tire on fire,
a man on the move -
flying by wire

with nothing to lose.
Stay out of my way,
I'm rolling down your street,
a roaring flame,a rose by another name.
Bounding off curbs,
my Firestone brothers
Goodyear sisters,
glare at me fiercely -
jealousy, probably.
Come along follow me!
Hurry up, now
,and maybe,
just maybe,
you'll catch a glimpse
of my flaming mane
cruising down Chasey Lane.
Inhale my aroma:
carcinogenic, black-
lung inducing ,

alveoli reducing
smoke cloud -
mushroom of doom,
rising above the rooftops.
Who called the cops?
'Cause they'll call the firemen
and they'll put out
my blaze of glory.
Tell my story:
my quarter-mile,
my time to shine.
Life was mine,
and I blew it.
I was a tire on fire

A lesser man might quit, a lesser man might see these two examples of internet poetry and say: "I am a lesser man, I am done for the day," but not I. I have found a third source of awesome/excellent/bitchin' poetry and I intend to share with you one last bit of beauty before the world is enveloped by a dark age, the likes of which have only been seen in the dark ages. (Tautology, what? - Odovaucer)

The final poem shows that you don't have to be an artsy fairy to make excellent poetry; this third poem was found on my search for "badass poetry." Yeah babe, it's badass. I soon discovered Staplegun Press, one quick link later I was staring at a badass poem by Steve Henn. Steve's badass poem can be found here, but, in the interest of saving our readers valuable time, I will reproduce the poem right here and right now. Rock on Steve, you crazy diamond you.

How to Succeed in Rock n Roll
without really trying
by Steve Henn

To be a great drummer
I must cultivate anger,
laugh with ferocity,
make enemies in order
to hold them in contempt,
bust through heads
with sticks every rhythm-honed
practice, snarl, spit,
learn to lose the friendly drunk
demeanor or better yet
wear my sobriety
like a clenched fist ­
I must hate knowing people,
scowl often, connect
to bass and rhythm guitar
as blood flows through bone,
I must be denied every other
outlet, incapable of singing,
too frustrated to write a simple line,
I must have it in for someone
every time I sit behind the kit.

I certainly hope that you all have enjoyed this edition of "turtle_07's poetry corner." If you have any bitchin'/excellent/awesome/badass poetry that you would like featured in the next "turtle_07's poetry corner," email me at uniquename@gmail.com. You can also email me if you are the angry author and demand that I take your poetry down, both are good. Until next time, you hip cats.


And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
- posted by Andrew @ 10:44 PM