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Ode to a retired beer tester
- Thread starter Litany
- Start date
Now, I don't normally reply to these threads, because, well, I don't know anything about poetry. But I know what I like. And I like this.
Litany is clearly conveying her disappointment with the patriarchal society in which we live. It also makes me think she had a bad relationship with her milkman when she was growing up; her reference to, 'snotty little farts' definitely gives me the impression her childhood was troubled. The immature manner in which she writes expresses her reluctance to grow up and face reality. This outburst was most probably brought on by a life changing event, such as getting married. She is an old mind living in an ever younger world.
And the use of rhyming words makes it all the more endearing.
Litany is clearly conveying her disappointment with the patriarchal society in which we live. It also makes me think she had a bad relationship with her milkman when she was growing up; her reference to, 'snotty little farts' definitely gives me the impression her childhood was troubled. The immature manner in which she writes expresses her reluctance to grow up and face reality. This outburst was most probably brought on by a life changing event, such as getting married. She is an old mind living in an ever younger world.
And the use of rhyming words makes it all the more endearing.
Litany
Active Member
It's like you've seen into my very soul. It's true. There was this one time that I'd specifically asked for red top and he left gold! 
I was in therapy for a few years, but the only way I can really work out my feelings is through my art.
I can remember, in my darkest moments writing this one, and I think it still remains true.
A pie
Alone
A horse
That which remains
A mirror of crumbs
I've eschewed iambic cucumbers in this piece, prefering instead to make a more brutal, post modern statement about life. I think it speaks to the little hedgehog in everyone's soul.
I was in therapy for a few years, but the only way I can really work out my feelings is through my art.I can remember, in my darkest moments writing this one, and I think it still remains true.
A pie
Alone
A horse
That which remains
A mirror of crumbs
I've eschewed iambic cucumbers in this piece, prefering instead to make a more brutal, post modern statement about life. I think it speaks to the little hedgehog in everyone's soul.
Litany. You are quite simply an inspiration. I'm going to share a little poem I wrote. It's a remnant from my brewery days, I wrote it one day when I was feeling especially emotional - I'm sure you'll see why.
Alcoholics, alcofrolics,
Their antics paid my wages,
But its ever so hard to read a book,
When there's vomit on the pages.
Liver disease, kidney failure,
These troubles you may encounter.
But really, who gives a toss?
When it makes you dance the Dounter.
From Chilean wines to German beers,
No matter what their tipple,
An alcofrolics favourite icecream
Is always Raspberry Ripple.
Alcoholics, alcofrolics,
Their antics paid my wages,
But its ever so hard to read a book,
When there's vomit on the pages.
Liver disease, kidney failure,
These troubles you may encounter.
But really, who gives a toss?
When it makes you dance the Dounter.
From Chilean wines to German beers,
No matter what their tipple,
An alcofrolics favourite icecream
Is always Raspberry Ripple.
Litany
Active Member
That's simply beautiful. It brought a tear to my eye. Such emotion conveyed in so few words. I can picture you, slumped at your desk, drool wending its way down your chin and puddling on your stained and spoiled report sheet. It's so vivid I can almost smell the vomit in your greasy beard hair. This is powerful stuff.
On first read it seems to be a cry for help but then we see, on further readings, that it's actually a message of hope for the future. I love your use of raspberry ripple as a metaphor for rehab. Similarly your clever use of comparisons to open each verse reminds us of the way modern society insists on labelling us all and sorting us into our little boxes. It's a very moving piece of work and I'm really honoured that you chose to share it with us all.
Perhaps if I may just post something that I think might help you through the dark days. I wrote this in a rare happy moment. The anti-psychosis medicine had just kicked in and I was sitting under a tree looking at sparrows. All of a sudden, through a gap in the leaves a tiny splattering of bird crap landed in my eye. I laughed for hours. When I finally came to my senses again, this is what I wrote.
The largest badger in the world
Is twelvty metres wide
And it falls to me, the fearful task
Of finding him a bride
She must be tall, at least a mile
She must have teeth, a pointy smile
Her stripe must show no sign of tan
She must know how to please a man
So if you know of such a wench
A large yet dainty badger maid
Send her on to me at once
And I'll refund the postage paid
On first read it seems to be a cry for help but then we see, on further readings, that it's actually a message of hope for the future. I love your use of raspberry ripple as a metaphor for rehab. Similarly your clever use of comparisons to open each verse reminds us of the way modern society insists on labelling us all and sorting us into our little boxes. It's a very moving piece of work and I'm really honoured that you chose to share it with us all.
Perhaps if I may just post something that I think might help you through the dark days. I wrote this in a rare happy moment. The anti-psychosis medicine had just kicked in and I was sitting under a tree looking at sparrows. All of a sudden, through a gap in the leaves a tiny splattering of bird crap landed in my eye. I laughed for hours. When I finally came to my senses again, this is what I wrote.
The largest badger in the world
Is twelvty metres wide
And it falls to me, the fearful task
Of finding him a bride
She must be tall, at least a mile
She must have teeth, a pointy smile
Her stripe must show no sign of tan
She must know how to please a man
So if you know of such a wench
A large yet dainty badger maid
Send her on to me at once
And I'll refund the postage paid
Childishness is a recurring theme in Litanys work. Inventing words, such as twelvty, is another indicator that this young woman has been forced to grow old beyond her years. It is excellent work, raw with emotion.
The use of the badger metaphor is especially interesting - it is my belief that when she talks of the badger, she is referring to herself. She fears the institution of marriage and the responsibilty it will bring. I think she is especially worried that she won't fit into a wedding dress.
The last verse is perhaps the most chilling of all. It sent shivers down my spine. 'A large yet dainty badger maid' again echoes the inconsistency she feels within her life. I wouldn't be surprised if this refers to her fear of flying. Fear, seems to be a very dominant theme in Litanys work.
This next piece is especially close to my heart.
They say beauty is in the eye
Of the beholder
But what does that say,
When their eyes smoulder
Like the flowering,
Burning embers of darkness,
In the recesses of my
Tripe ridden chin tresses.
The use of the badger metaphor is especially interesting - it is my belief that when she talks of the badger, she is referring to herself. She fears the institution of marriage and the responsibilty it will bring. I think she is especially worried that she won't fit into a wedding dress.
The last verse is perhaps the most chilling of all. It sent shivers down my spine. 'A large yet dainty badger maid' again echoes the inconsistency she feels within her life. I wouldn't be surprised if this refers to her fear of flying. Fear, seems to be a very dominant theme in Litanys work.
This next piece is especially close to my heart.
They say beauty is in the eye
Of the beholder
But what does that say,
When their eyes smoulder
Like the flowering,
Burning embers of darkness,
In the recesses of my
Tripe ridden chin tresses.
Litany
Active Member
I would almost say that words fail me, but, when I think again and wipe the tears from my eyes, I suddenly find that they don't. What we see here is the revealing of Freya's angry side. An almost blood thirsty rant against those in power who tried to hold her down and break her spirit so many years ago. Yes. It's obvious to everyone, I'm sure. PE teachers. Those monsters of our childhood. Forcing our young poet into skimpy and unflattering gym knickers and sending her out into the wintry cold to meet her fate at the end of a hockey stick. Truly chilling. The first verse, a cry to heaven 'Does my bum look big in this?' The second verse holds the reply as the angels call down, 'Yes. It does.'
Is it any wonder that she turned to drugs and masturbation in a desperate bid to ease the pain? IS IT?
And now something we can all relate to. Quiet at the back. I call this piece The Sorrow of Helene. Ahem.
He trod upon the icy stuff
He walked across the ledge
He finished off his hobnob
And he peered over the edge
His beak was all a quiver
His black bits went all pale
But off he leapt into the blue
A fine snack for a whale
Again it happened, many times
Across the oceans wide
and every day was just the same
A penguin suicide
Is it any wonder that she turned to drugs and masturbation in a desperate bid to ease the pain? IS IT?
And now something we can all relate to. Quiet at the back. I call this piece The Sorrow of Helene. Ahem.
He trod upon the icy stuff
He walked across the ledge
He finished off his hobnob
And he peered over the edge
His beak was all a quiver
His black bits went all pale
But off he leapt into the blue
A fine snack for a whale
Again it happened, many times
Across the oceans wide
and every day was just the same
A penguin suicide
bobbyburns
New Member
'twas the middle of septober,
and all the children on mars were ...
and all the children on mars were ...
Irene Wilde
New Member
Litany said:
Obviously influenced by Bukowski. Written during Litany's reckless struggle to free her troubled spirit by driving across Mexico in a 1969 VW microbus with a half a dozen Mott the Hoople 8-tracks and a empty bottle of Tequila.
Her hostility toward the penguins (shocking) an allusion to the morning she awoke in a Tijuana brothel, hungover, with no memory of the night before and the taste of vomit in her mouth, someone else's vomit, but bitter just the same.
A harrowing read. I'm haunted.
Irene Wilde
Litany
Active Member
Irene Wilde lives in a bucket
With a purple iguana called Sue
They hang out together
Each clad in red leather
Eating droppings they find at the zoo
Sue says to Irene 'I'm sick of this dung!'
'Let's go get drunk down the docks.'
But Irene's not happy
Her liver feels crappy
As she swigs down her Scotch on the rocks.
She throws down her tipple and she picks up Sue
She runs round the town full of wonder
With Sue in her pocket
She moves like a rocket
Then falls in a puddle of chunder
With a purple iguana called Sue
They hang out together
Each clad in red leather
Eating droppings they find at the zoo
Sue says to Irene 'I'm sick of this dung!'
'Let's go get drunk down the docks.'
But Irene's not happy
Her liver feels crappy
As she swigs down her Scotch on the rocks.
She throws down her tipple and she picks up Sue
She runs round the town full of wonder
With Sue in her pocket
She moves like a rocket
Then falls in a puddle of chunder
Irene Wilde said:
Whilst I agree somewhat, I don't think she's showing hostility towards the penguin - instead, she is the penguin. She is expressing her general disapointment at never having quite the shiniest beak in the playground. It brings a tear to my eye.
With her second poem... well the mind boggles. Is she insinuating Irene Wilde has a female lover? It is never clear, but the lines,
"Sue says to Irene 'I'm sick of this dung!'
'Let's go get drunk down the docks.'"
certainly seem to suggest this. Also, I think Litany is hinting at Irene Wildes demonic persuasion - 'Each clad in red leather' - she may as well have written, 'Irene Wilde runs round breathing fire, with two little horns on her head.'
Irene Wilde
New Member
Freya said:
But I do!
Irene Wilde
Litany
Active Member
You people sicken me! I bear my soul and all you can do is poke with me with your pencils.
The penguin is the eternal quest for pie, damn you! I'm sick of you amateurs and your half arsed attempts to interpret me. You couldn't interpret your way out of some sort of easily interpretable situation in which you'd just been handed an interpretation on a special piece of interpreting paper. Fools!
I bleed for my art and soon so shall you!
I'll kill you all
Eventually
No target will be missed
But until then
I'll smile and laugh
And add you to my list
The penguin is the eternal quest for pie, damn you! I'm sick of you amateurs and your half arsed attempts to interpret me. You couldn't interpret your way out of some sort of easily interpretable situation in which you'd just been handed an interpretation on a special piece of interpreting paper. Fools!
I bleed for my art and soon so shall you!
I'll kill you all
Eventually
No target will be missed
But until then
I'll smile and laugh
And add you to my list
Billy Oblivion
New Member
Dead girls,
Dead boys,
Everybody says come on and feel the noise,
And all the little sisters go wow, wow, wow.
Dead heat,
Dead beat,
Everybody's dancing in the street,
And all the little sisters go wow, wow, wow.
And I don't mind if my little sister goes working for the daily express,
In a red leather dress.
Dead men,
Dead gods,
Everybody says they wanna be my dog (woof, woof),
And all the little sisters go wow, wow, wow.
And I don't mind if my little sister goes working for the sunday express,
In a red leather dress.
Wow!
Dead boys,
Everybody says come on and feel the noise,
And all the little sisters go wow, wow, wow.
Dead heat,
Dead beat,
Everybody's dancing in the street,
And all the little sisters go wow, wow, wow.
And I don't mind if my little sister goes working for the daily express,
In a red leather dress.
Dead men,
Dead gods,
Everybody says they wanna be my dog (woof, woof),
And all the little sisters go wow, wow, wow.
And I don't mind if my little sister goes working for the sunday express,
In a red leather dress.
Wow!
S
squaredcircle
Guest
Silence fell in, as heavy as darkness, as a raindrop, as feather,
The spork poked into sky, into women, into darkness,
hardened, rusted, softened, dissipated
soudlessly into where it comes
The spork poked into sky, into women, into darkness,
hardened, rusted, softened, dissipated
soudlessly into where it comes
bobbyburns
New Member
ha ha. dad? ha ha. dad?! Ha Ha Ha. Dad?! HAHAHAHA. DAD?!?!