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BoardGameGeek» Forums » Everything Else » Beatnik Coffee Haus

Subject: POETRY BLASTER rss

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Chris Tannhauser
United States
San Diego
California
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Be kind.
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Rusty McFisticuffs
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Arcata
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Was going to say "Peyote's a hell of a drug," but that actually made a lot of sense.
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Robert Wesley
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Re: POETRY BLASTER-*huff*
We sure 'picked' the WRONGAWRY week to QUIT; 'sniffing glue'! gulp
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shumyum
United States
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♒♒♒♒♎♒♒♒♒ sloooowly sinking
One day we notice that the sun
needs feeding. Immediately
a crash program begins: we fill rockets
with wheat, smoke-rings, razorblades, then,
after long aiming
--they're off. Hulls specially alloyed
so as not to melt before the stuff
gets delivered we pour cattle rivers windmills,
aborigines etcet into the sun which
however, grows stubbornly
smaller, paler. Finally
of course we run out of things to feed the thing,
start shipping ourselves. By now
all the planets-moons-asteroids and
so on have been shoveled in though they're
not doing much good it's
still looking pretty weak, heck, nothing helps!
Now the last few of us left lift off.
The trip seems forever but then, touchdown.
Just before entering we wonder,
will we be enough. There's
a last-second doubt in our minds: can we,
can this final sacrifice, our broughten crumb,
satiate
it--will a glutteral belch burst out then at last,--
and will that Big Burp be seen by far-off telescopes,
interpreted as a nova
by those other galaxies,
those further stars which have always seemed even more
starving
than ours?

-Bill Knott
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Erik D
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Pasadena
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Ode to a Goldfish:

Oh wet pet!

--Gyles Brandreth
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Jesse Daniels
United States
Massachusetts
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Hibernation

why does one hibernate?
to repeat it next year
what's to elaborate?
so it may become clear
when based upon instincts
fittest repetition
but how a human thinks
that's thought expedition

-Jesse Daniels (2016)
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How tall is justice?
Canada
Georgetown
Ontario
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Who IS this masked man? And WHY has he never been photographed together with 6 year old millionaire playboy Calvin?
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I see a world that's tired and scared of living on the edge too long.
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Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
[drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, See if I don't!

- Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz
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R Moore
United States
Clarkston
Michigan
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This user loves Easter eggs.
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RALPH WALDO FLATHEAD

The Poet of the Empire
(737-789)

An unspoken Flathead family motto was "quantity over quality," and no one demonstrated that tenet better than Ralph Waldo. During his 40-plus years of putting pen to parchment, he wrote 912 novels, 4,000 short stories, and an incredible 87,000 sonnets. His essays have never been successfully counted, Ralph Waldo spent eleven years at Antharia University, collecting a chestful of degrees, including three doctorates: Doctor of Idyllic Poetry, Doctor of Excellent Elegies, and Doctor of Octameter Odes. He was very proud of his academic accomplishments, and always signed his name "Ralph Waldo Flathead, D.I.P., D.E.E., D.0.0."

Fresh out of college and flush with the enthusiasm of youth, Ralph Waldo wrote a series of lengthy essays which he hoped would uplift the human spirit. Sadly and inexplicably, these essays lifted little more than the profits of the Frobozz Magic Writing Paper Company. The essays from this period include "On the Benefits of Keeping Ears Clean" and "Why Doorknobs are Necessary." Also during this period, he wrote "On the Discoloration of Roadside Slush," but the manuscript was lost before it could be published, leaving Ralph Waldo disconsolate for years.

During his middle years, Ralph Waldo spent nearly half a decade living in the granola mines of Antharia. It was during this period that he wrote his longest work, a 60,000-verse epic about the varieties of moss that one finds in granola mines.

Toward the end of his life, Ralph Waldo specialized in exploring related themes, as brilliantly demonstrated by the four sonnets found by his deathbed:

Sonnet #87,177 "Ode to a Tiny Moist Avocado Pit"
Sonnet #87,178 "Ode to Another Tiny Moist Avocado Pit"
Sonnet #87,179 "Ode to Two Tiny Moist Avocado Pits"
Sonnet #87,180 "Ode to Two Still-Tiny-But-Less -Moist Avocado Pits"

Ralph Waldo died in 789 GUE. An autopsy revealed that the cause of death was an overdose of avocados.
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Jesse Daniels
United States
Massachusetts
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Oliphant wrote:
RALPH WALDO FLATHEAD

The Poet of the Empire
(737-789)

An unspoken Flathead family motto was "quantity over quality," and no one demonstrated that tenet better than Ralph Waldo. During his 40-plus years of putting pen to parchment, he wrote 912 novels, 4,000 short stories, and an incredible 87,000 sonnets. His essays have never been successfully counted, Ralph Waldo spent eleven years at Antharia University, collecting a chestful of degrees, including three doctorates: Doctor of Idyllic Poetry, Doctor of Excellent Elegies, and Doctor of Octameter Odes. He was very proud of his academic accomplishments, and always signed his name "Ralph Waldo Flathead, D.I.P., D.E.E., D.0.0."

Fresh out of college and flush with the enthusiasm of youth, Ralph Waldo wrote a series of lengthy essays which he hoped would uplift the human spirit. Sadly and inexplicably, these essays lifted little more than the profits of the Frobozz Magic Writing Paper Company. The essays from this period include "On the Benefits of Keeping Ears Clean" and "Why Doorknobs are Necessary." Also during this period, he wrote "On the Discoloration of Roadside Slush," but the manuscript was lost before it could be published, leaving Ralph Waldo disconsolate for years.

During his middle years, Ralph Waldo spent nearly half a decade living in the granola mines of Antharia. It was during this period that he wrote his longest work, a 60,000-verse epic about the varieties of moss that one finds in granola mines.

Toward the end of his life, Ralph Waldo specialized in exploring related themes, as brilliantly demonstrated by the four sonnets found by his deathbed:

Sonnet #87,177 "Ode to a Tiny Moist Avocado Pit"
Sonnet #87,178 "Ode to Another Tiny Moist Avocado Pit"
Sonnet #87,179 "Ode to Two Tiny Moist Avocado Pits"
Sonnet #87,180 "Ode to Two Still-Tiny-But-Less -Moist Avocado Pits"

Ralph Waldo died in 789 GUE. An autopsy revealed that the cause of death was an overdose of avocados.


Zork is nuts
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Robert Wesley
Nepal
Aberdeen
Washington
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Oliphant wrote:
RALPH WALDO FLATHEAD

The Poet of the Empire
(737-789)

Sonnet #87,177 "Ode to a Tiny Moist Avocado Pit"
Sonnet #87,178 "Ode to Another Tiny Moist Avocado Pit"
Sonnet #87,179 "Ode to Two Tiny Moist Avocado Pits"
Sonnet #87,180 "Ode to Two Still-Tiny-But-Less -Moist Avocado Pits"

Ralph Waldo died in 789 GUE. An autopsy revealed that the cause of death was an overdose of avocados.
googoogoo "Avocado Goggles" RARELY result in DEATH yet "3rd-Eye Blindness" is rampant. arrrh ~"DOWN too lone ONE!"
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Sean
United States
Mechanicsburg
Pennsylvania
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I don't want happiness by halves, nor is half of sorrow what I want. Yet there's a pillow I would share, where gently pressed against a cheek like a helpless star, a falling star, a ring glimmers on the finger of a hand.
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Spoken poetry.

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Barry Harvey
United Kingdom
London
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Genghis wrote:
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
[drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, See if I don't!

- Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz


The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

- Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

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John Hathorn
United States
San Antonio
Texas
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Still and quite feline form,
In the sun, asleep and warm.
His tail is limp, his
Whiskers drooped.
Man, what could make
This cat so pooped?
-Calvin [Bill Waterson]
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フィル
Australia
Ashfield
NSW
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Pushing a lesbian old growth union-approved agenda since '94.
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In Dilman's Grove my love did die
And now in ground shall ever lie
None could ere replace her visage
Until your face
Brought thoughts of kissage

- John Lillison
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Joe Gola
United States
Redding
Connecticut
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and everything under the sun is in tune
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A wise pony once wrote this.
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Celina
United States
University City
MO
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This was my favorite when I was about 12

The Eagle
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
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Justin
United States
Springfield
Pennsylvania
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Woman... woe-man... whoah, man!
She was a thief,
you got to belief,
she stole my heart and my cat.
Betty,
Judy,
Josie and those hot Pussycats...
They make me horny,
Saturday morny
Girls of cartoo-ins
will leave me in ruins
I want to to be Betty's Barney.

Hey Jane... get me off this crazy thing... called love.
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R Moore
United States
Clarkston
Michigan
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This user loves Easter eggs.
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WyantJM wrote:
Woman... woe-man... whoah, man!


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Robert Wesley
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Aberdeen
Washington
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>sauron<-"GOTTDAMPHFKATZENWRUNG"! translated from German;

Whose 'traipsing' across the GAME

all 'cool and slow',

Whose 'kitty-pitterpat'

is ONE that we all KNOW

'Chartreuse TAB'-"B"!

'Chartreuse TAB'-"B"!

He's so "flab"!

That 'Chartreuse TAB'-"B"!

He's gonna GIT *nab*. just you wait & "C"!

"WHY is everybody always picking FUR from off'n ME!"
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Dave B
Scotland
Glasgow
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Dese are not the Garfix I knew from 1992, and continue to visit atop a wooden tear overlooking purple cheese and puberty.
These are square camels to reach 65 and compare life insurance many good thunderbolts.
This are sigma and the light switch I fell through drunken paper and got turned inside out one thousand times much like a submarine that flew to Mars and back.
Mars exploded, they blamed the buildings with egos, but in the end I won the marathon and donated my prize fund to help dishevelled cats that speak Yiddish like the apple of my lava stairs boring golem game of chess tennis racket.
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