700th post giveaway

[Quill]

Hey all,

This is my 700th post and because many of you have tolerated my presence here I felt the need to give a little something back to the community that has given me so much.

That and it seems to be the freebie season. So I'm gonna run a competition. First place will receive three books;

Entheologues by Martin W. Ball and friends

Inner Paths to Outer Space by Rick Strassman and friends

Visionary Plant Consciousness by J. P.Harpignies and friends

and some alba berries

All you have to do is post a short poem, (not necessarily a haiku, for all you whiny haiku haters) and I'll pick my favourite.

Two runners up will receive some alba berries.

You've all got til November when i will announce the winners.

(Aus and NZ members only sorry)

Quill

[Bretloth]

I'll have a crack~*

[theuserformallyknownasd00d]

not sure if it had to me my poem, but heres my hero's finest works, mr Leonard Cohen

Like a bird on the wire

Like a drunk in a midnight choir

I have tried in my way to be free

Like a worm on a hook

Like a knight from some old fashioned book

I have saved all my ribbons for thee

If I, if I have been unkind

I hope that you can just let it go by

If I, if I have been untrue

I hope you know it was never to you

Oh, like a baby, stillborn

Like a beast with his horn

I have torn everyone who reached out for me

But I swear by this song

And by all that I have done wrong

I will make it all up to thee

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch

He said to me, "You must not ask for so much"

And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door

She cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh, like a bird on the wire

Like a drunk in a midnight choir

I have tried in my way to be free

peace

d00d

[theuserformallyknownasd00d]

not sure if it had to me my poem, but heres my hero's finest works, mr Leonard Cohen

Like a bird on the wire

Like a drunk in a midnight choir

I have tried in my way to be free

Like a worm on a hook

Like a knight from some old fashioned book

I have saved all my ribbons for thee

If I, if I have been unkind

I hope that you can just let it go by

If I, if I have been untrue

I hope you know it was never to you

Oh, like a baby, stillborn

Like a beast with his horn

I have torn everyone who reached out for me

But I swear by this song

And by all that I have done wrong

I will make it all up to thee

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch

He said to me, "You must not ask for so much"

And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door

She cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh, like a bird on the wire%

[2Deep2Handle]

When the world grows weary

and society does not satisfy

there is always the garden

off a plaque in my garden, my place of solitude, reflection and tranquility!

Good job mate

tis' the season indeed

[2Deep2Handle]

Homo Suburbiensis

For Craig McGregor

One constant in a world of variables

-- A man alone in the evening in his patch of vegetables,

and all the things he takes down with him there

Where the easement runs along the back fence and the air

smells of tomato-vines, and the hoarse rasping tendrils

of pumpkin flourish clumsy whips and their foliage sprawls

Over the compost-box, poising rampant upon

the palings ...

He stands there, lost in a green

confusion, smelling the smoke of somebody's rubbish

Burning, hearing vaguely the clatter of a disk

in a sink that could be his, hearing a dog, a kid,

a far whisper of traffic, and offering up instead

Not much but as much as any man can offer

-- time, pain, love, hate, age, ware, death, laughter, fever.

By non-other than the incredibly talented Australian Postie (probably helps deliver our seeds to each other)

Bruce Dawe

Loved this one since grade 10 English like 7 years ago

[Quill]

Sorry I meant original work

I was thinking earlier today that the vid Marcel submitted for the EGA ticket competition was somewhat of a visual poem so I've decided that this competition is open to any form of creativity. whether you express yourself through poem, music,visual art or even a good recipe it will be eligible for entry. The only limitations are; it must be your own work and can be submitted on the internets.

Did you see that I just got all creative libertarian up in this bitch.

[Psylo]

Damn, that bloody Marcel fellow is going to clean up on both threads now !

Honestly, it was a fantastic presentation.

I had better put up photos of some recent artwork quicksmart, give him a run for his rupees

[cisumevil]

Here's two old poems that I wrote.......

Salt

Of course we have salt

Where are the trees

The land is farmed

As far as the eye can see

The land is farmed

For you and me

The land is farmed

For money and greed

We think about it occasionally

Say the problems too small to see

Soon the salt of the land

Will meet the salt of the sea

Soon the salt of the land

Will meet the salt of the sea

Soon the salt of the land

Will meet the salt of the sea

&

Sunrise 6am

There’s a soft cotton sunrise

Leaving Perth behind

Clouds covering forgotten scars

The same thing we did on Mars

Colours are dreams on painters pallets

Golden pinks and scarlet chromes

I’m leavin’ home

I’m leavin’ home

The farmers leases

Look like jigsaw pieces

The clouds hide some

Breath taking view

Now golden sun

[El Presidente Hillbillios]

Even though im sure i would win with this one

http://www.shaman-australis.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=29174

I shall let the prize go to the others

[ErraneousHerbalist]

Not sure if it has to be original or not but I really quite like this poem by James K. Baxter entitled 'The Maori Jesus'

I saw the Maori Jesus

Walking on Wellington Harbour.

He wore blue dungarees.

His beard and hair were long.

His breath smelt of mussels and paroa.

When he smiled it looked like the dawn.

When he broke wind little fishes trembled.

When he frowned the ground shook.

When he laughed everybody got drunk.

The Maori Jesus came on shore

And picked out his twelve disciples.

One cleaned toilets in the Railway Station;

His hands were scrubbed red to get the shit out of the pores.

One was a call-girl who turned it up for nothing.

One was a housewife who’d forgotten the Pill

And stuck her TV set in the rubbish can.

One was a little office clerk

Who’d tried to set fire to the government buildings.

Yes and there were several others;

One was a sad old queen;

One was an alcoholic priest

Going slowly mad in a respectable parish.

The Maori Jesus said ‘Man

From now on the sun will shine.’

He did no miracles;

He played the guitar sitting on the ground.

The first day he was arrested

For having no lawful means of support.

The second day he was beaten up by the cops

For telling a dee his house was not in order.

The third day he was charged with being a Maori

And given a month in Mt Crawford.

The fourth day he was sent to Porirua

For telling a screw the sun would stop rising.

The fifth day lasted seven years

While he worked in the asylum laundry

Never out of the steam.

The sixth day he told the head doctor,

“I am the light in the void;

I am who I am.’

The seventh day he was lobotomised;

The brain of God was cut in half.

On the eighth day the sun did not rise.

It didn’t rise the day after

God was neither alive nor dead.

The darkness of the void,

Mountainous, mile-deep, civilised darkness

Sat on the earth from then until now.

Edited October 7, 2011 by ErraneousHerbalist

[Quill]

Sorry I meant original work

 

[13thdimensionconnection]

Here's an original.

I never thought I'd be the type, to get myself get sucked in

I really tried hard to resist, the whole social network thing

But everyone is on it, a billion people can't be wrong

Now I look back and wonder, where my time has gone

I've been sitting here for three hours now, refreshing my facebook

It's been about 5 minutes now, I'd better take a look

My attention span's been cut in half, but my friend size almost doubled

Yet more distant I become and now this has me troubled

Why am I so addicted to this meaningless shit

My life has been torn apart, but at least I'm not a twit.

[dosileflynn]

May the wind always be at your back,

May the sunshine always be upon your face,

And may the force of destiny,

Carry you aloft to dance with the stars

[dosileflynn]

also i'll post some of my own rhymes from my rhymebook, its my own kind of poetry.

you can buy anything these days, ill get some salvation on consignment

i sent an invoice to god but he didnt accept, maybe i need to rewrite it?

i say in prayer and asked him why but all i heard was silence

i got frustrated and said god why are our conversations always one sided?

then i heard his voice command: son this is your assignment

salvation is something you need to cultivate you cant buy it

do good in this world, balance your karma, just try it

now inhale this essence into your soul and revive it

the meaning of life is something to be learned and decyphered

i see the irony in life like roses covered in spikes

but maybe thats just a reflection of every day life

contrast is everywhere like sun showers and moonlight

like yin and yang, the struggle between wrong and right

so when we pass on do we become a star in the sky?

or am i just thinking this because i dont wanna die

maybe im just a tripper thinking the moon is gods eyes

and could it be that this is just the first phase of life

maybe i just picture it like this to escape the fear

and then fling myself far out into the stratosphere

and its beautiful that nothing really matters here

and anything i think of just suddenly appears

and

the apple wont fall far from the tree, atleast thats what they say

is that why i seem to find myself trapped in this glass cage?

or is it cos i find myself at the bottom of a bottle always?

and maybe thats why i see red so much cos the glass is opaque

but if that same tree is on a hill then it will roll away

and starting today, im gonna shatter all these shackles

even though it might turn into an every day battle

i cant see the future but ill keep walking the road less traveled

and finally

when the sun reaches the horizon, where will you be?

when the tides of history have risen, what will be your legacy?

when the waves of eternity wash over you, will you be at peace?

when the rain of purifcation falls, will you take heed?

will you bath in the glory or will you pack up and leave?

what will you do when the ghost of remorse echoes your name?

will you be able to sense the direction of the winds of change?

what would you do if the grim reaper tried to touch your face?

when your karma is served up will it be good or be bad?

in purgatory will you be free to leave or condemened to be damned?

in reincarnation will you be a lion or a lamb?

when you meet the spirits will you be fearful or glad?

when you expire in this world will you be happy or sad?

if you met your soul mate would you pass or give it a chance

would you judge a book after reading it or at first glance?

so then why do you judge the appearance of your fellow man?

do you think that love can warm a heart thats grown cold?

can you melt the demons and reset them in a mold?

Do you believe that redemption can cleanse your soul?

do you think the years wear away at you and take their toll?

do you believe what was once broken can be again made hole?

do you think you'll find your soul mate and together grow old?

sorry if i posted too much stuff. i picked out one verse, and another, and another, i couldnt help myself

Edited October 8, 2011 by dosileflynn

[Quill]

bump bitches

get creating

Edited October 17, 2011 by Quill

[Quill]

Any more entries?

Winners announced tomorrow.

[Nosf3ratu]

An original

Like brush strokes

beneath a magnifying glass,

or a drought that claws its way

across the landscape,

there is nothing

like the silence

of a woman's cunning.

[Marklar]

hey, ive been working out on a an oil rig and this is something i wrote one day walking around bored and thinking about how fucked up all the pollution is. it is written from the perspective of the rig itself, i hope you like it!

 

only sea surrounds me,

i am all thats here,

in a flowing organic world,

a giant stationary square.

all i do is spread pollution,

around the world far and near.

i leak oil into the ocean,

as my black smoke fills the air,

present in my creators conscience,

the earths health wasnt there,

man made from her womb,

not an element left spare,

only made to destroy her,

ironic sad and unfair.

my operators are human,

revenue thier only care,

so my occupation will not cease,

nor will my despair,

so here i will remain,

until ive stripped the ocean bare.

 

 

[George Simian]

Thank Judy Wright for this one,

Bullocky- Judith Wright

Beside his heavy-shouldered team

thirsty with drought and chilled with rain,

he weathered all the striding years

till they ran widdershins in his brain:

Till the long solitary tracks

etched deeper with each lurching load

were populous before his eyes,

and fiends and angels used his road.

All the long straining journey grew

a mad apocalyptic dream,

and he old Moses, and the slaves

his suffering and stubborn team.

Then in his evening camp beneath

the half-light pillars of the trees

he filled the steepled cone of night

with shouted prayers and prophecies.

While past the campfire's crimson ring

the star struck darkness cupped him round.

and centuries of cattle-bells

rang with their sweet uneasy sound.

Grass is across the wagon-tracks,

and plough strikes bone beneath the grass,

and vineyards cover all the slopes

where the dead teams were used to pass.

O vine, grow close upon that bone

and hold it with your rooted hand.

The prophet Moses feeds the grape,

and fruitful is the Promised Land.

R.I.P Judith

Edited October 31, 2011 by george_667

[George Simian]

original,

Oh Darwinian evolution

there's one thing I must ask,

descendant all from monkeys,

why stop taking it in the ass?

[santiago]

His name is Tristan and he is a bug

Only problem is he wants to root a slug

Somehow though the hole he has dug

Wont even get him a slimy slug hug

Without a roof his hole turned to mud

He flew off to find one but landed with a thud

His own mother said he was a dud

So he fucked her up the ass whilst imagining kevin rudd

The moral of the story, is that bugs and slugs dont mix

Unfortunately bugs have really small dicks

In order for this bug to get his slug fix

He should find another bug to get his kicks.

[tipz]

COME TRIP WITH ME

Take a look through my eyes;

We can trip side by side

Through the universe where I do reside.

Back through time let us fly.

We'll meet low times and high;

We'll see times that I've cried

And we might understand, both you and I.

We can sift through the years,

Feel my hopes and my fears;

And as present time nears

We might understand the oncoming years.

So, if you're wondering why,

Take a look through my eyes.

We can trip side by side

Through the universe where I do reside.

Edited October 31, 2011 by tipz

[etherealdrifter]

On the inside

the worst type of monster is ugly

on the inside

ghouls, human leeches, intimate assassins

of my visions

his left wing is broken

his eye i cannot find it sir

it's in a glass at the end of the bed

near the flowers

he hears the colour of the flowers

on the inside

he spent the years beyond his normal adolescent isolation

nearing what he thought was natural maturation

years lost

on the inside

so they cheer to his demise, they, not so wise

always hiding, behind some disguise

in the guise of their lost youth

visions of this

their abandoned dreams

of their adult lives

so he hides in the crowd

no footsteps, no sound

on the inside he yearns with no aim

for the heathen earth to swallow his pain

floors move

walls shake

thoughts long thunk as strong

materialize as fake

whack whack paddy smack

Kerouac's in the kitchen cooking eggs reeling

Thompson's polishing his canon and Kafka's drinking coffee

i'm on the floor prostrate hypnotised by the stars in the ceiling

so why o why do people have to upturn every rock continuously

why must they reinvent the wheel endlessly

why can't we just move through.........forward

differently

in the end it cannot even recognize the wheels true shape anymore

the mental anguish will ensue ..........

and your monumental deathbed speech

will ultimately seem pointless to you

[Quill]

Thank you to all who have contributed.

And the winner is . . . . dosileflynn, congratulations mate, usually I hate rhyming poems, but yours did not seem forced (which is my usual complaint) and I like the way that you approach a theme and riff on it for a bit. Ooh ooh and I like your use of half rhyme. Pm me your address and I'll post out the books.

And for runners up we have;

etherealdrifter (extra points for namedropping a couple of my fave authors) and cisumevil pm me

But in a way you're all winners, and that's not because I'm an airy fairy hippy type but because you are all eligible for some free Psychotria seeds. Pm me if you have posted a poem/prose/whatever.

If hillbilly hadn't have bowed out his ode to couch grass may have won it, very accessible