Quill Posted October 7, 2011 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 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bretloth Posted October 7, 2011 I'll have a crack~* Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
theuserformallyknownasd00d Posted October 7, 2011 not sure if it had to me my poem, but heres my hero's finest works, mr Leonard Cohen Like a bird on the wireLike 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
theuserformallyknownasd00d Posted October 7, 2011 not sure if it had to me my poem, but heres my hero's finest works, mr Leonard Cohen Like a bird on the wireLike 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% Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
2Deep2Handle Posted October 7, 2011 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
2Deep2Handle Posted October 7, 2011 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Quill Posted October 7, 2011 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. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Psylo Posted October 7, 2011 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
cisumevil Posted October 7, 2011 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
El Presidente Hillbillios Posted October 7, 2011 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 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
ErraneousHerbalist Posted October 7, 2011 (edited) 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Quill Posted October 8, 2011 Sorry I meant original work Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
13thdimensionconnection Posted October 8, 2011 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. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
dosileflynn Posted October 8, 2011 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 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
dosileflynn Posted October 8, 2011 (edited) 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Quill Posted October 17, 2011 (edited) bump bitches get creating Edited October 17, 2011 by Quill 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Quill Posted October 31, 2011 Any more entries? Winners announced tomorrow. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Nosf3ratu Posted October 31, 2011 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. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Marklar Posted October 31, 2011 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. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
George Simian Posted October 31, 2011 (edited) 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
George Simian Posted October 31, 2011 original, Oh Darwinian evolution there's one thing I must ask, descendant all from monkeys, why stop taking it in the ass? Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
santiago Posted October 31, 2011 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. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
tipz Posted October 31, 2011 (edited) 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
etherealdrifter Posted October 31, 2011 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 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Quill Posted November 1, 2011 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 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites