Met a Mat, a Door I Didn't Like
Scribbling
Scrambling
Random ramblings
Run dumb and smart
Numb and smarting
Smarmy
Flush with art and artless
Like farting in calligraphy
Gas rhymes with ass
And no class
And yes
Class
Dismissed rhymes with pissed
And missed and nearly amiss and remiss
Even this
I'm rambling
Randomly scrambling
The few semi worthwhile thoughts I can
Muster with my ass on the toilet
Abdominal cramps
Faux leather journal resting on my write knee
Foster's beer in one hand and
A wine blood red broken but
Functional mechanical pencil in the other
I'm a man
Who doesn't feel like much of one
Not a woman
Though I suppose I feel like most of them
Trying to find myself in
Random scrambling
Rambling
Ambling through a know moon
New moan darkness
Though it's nowhere near midnight yet
And this is one of the year's longest days
Longest daze I've been in for a while
Or so it seems when I'm in it
Trying to bear it
Bare and grin it
Maybe even win it
Or feel like a winner
Instead of a wiener
A whiner or a ham burgher
Though I know I shouldn't treat
This like a competition
Or a smorgasbord
I want to say
What do you know?
But come to think of it
What do I know?
Even my best attempt at avoiding any gimmick
Makes me feel like another dull mimic
Every stab I make at originality
Smells of another stale gimmick
And sometimes my every scribble
Seems to rhyme
With fibble
But in two words
Fib
Bull
And I'm losing any inclination
To play anything other than
Matador
Scrambling
Random ramblings
Run dumb and smart
Numb and smarting
Smarmy
Flush with art and artless
Like farting in calligraphy
Gas rhymes with ass
And no class
And yes
Class
Dismissed rhymes with pissed
And missed and nearly amiss and remiss
Even this
I'm rambling
Randomly scrambling
The few semi worthwhile thoughts I can
Muster with my ass on the toilet
Abdominal cramps
Faux leather journal resting on my write knee
Foster's beer in one hand and
A wine blood red broken but
Functional mechanical pencil in the other
I'm a man
Who doesn't feel like much of one
Not a woman
Though I suppose I feel like most of them
Trying to find myself in
Random scrambling
Rambling
Ambling through a know moon
New moan darkness
Though it's nowhere near midnight yet
And this is one of the year's longest days
Longest daze I've been in for a while
Or so it seems when I'm in it
Trying to bear it
Bare and grin it
Maybe even win it
Or feel like a winner
Instead of a wiener
A whiner or a ham burgher
Though I know I shouldn't treat
This like a competition
Or a smorgasbord
I want to say
What do you know?
But come to think of it
What do I know?
Even my best attempt at avoiding any gimmick
Makes me feel like another dull mimic
Every stab I make at originality
Smells of another stale gimmick
And sometimes my every scribble
Seems to rhyme
With fibble
But in two words
Fib
Bull
And I'm losing any inclination
To play anything other than
Matador
Posted by Jesus Crisis at 6/22/2009 5:50 PM 
Categories: Poetry by JC
Tags: Cleveland Poetry John Burroughs Matador Jesus Crisis Bull
Categories: Poetry by JC
Tags: Cleveland Poetry John Burroughs Matador Jesus Crisis Bull
writing and expressing real sentiment is anything but bull.... it is ultimate self expression.
Be who you are write what you know.. you know more than you think.....
If you have to squeeze the ink out in little droplets just keep writing... because I for one am eager to hear what you have to say.
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Oh.. you took out the best part... I liked the wiener and hamburger references...
It gave it a seasonal BBQ sort of feel as well as running the scatological gamut... bummer...
Well.. it is your artistic endeavor... I still like it... but now it is rather more tame..
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I never took out the wiener or ham burgher. What would a smorgasbord be without them? I only added a whiner.
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but just a little
I won't fib-ble
lol
but no money leaves me
Not
so sweet as honey
Ok, I'll stop lol...I definitely overdosed on sugar
That is by way of punch drunk 11 pm. humor...
But I do like it on a more serious note...
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Well Thank God... It also shows what a careful reader I am not at 11 pm... yes smorgasbord..
Your very good at word play... I admire that.. something I can not do... something you always do very well.
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Oh - and I added the word "red" too. I should have taken and posted a picture of my mechanical pencil - it matches the red color on this blog layout.
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I never met a matador I didn't like and that's no bull. Really you are full of Foo Doo and few dew wright like you do when you are in rite in the muddle of your doo doo. I red this twice and it's spicy and nice to feel you moan at the moon threw your pane.
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this it is the it it is, and it all depends on us.
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My favorite parts of this poem are the lines:
"Flush with art and artless
Like farting in calligraphy"
(love the way that sounds on my tongue), and
"Ambling through a know moon
New moan darkness
Though it's nowhere near midnight yet
And this is one of the year's longest days".
The revision to the sixth stanza--"whiner"-- adds depth to the line. And I like the way you worked with the word "hamburger" to make "ham burgher"- very subtle and effective! Especially so, since you work in the European word "smorgasbord" in the same stanza.
It's all those little things that really intrigue me when I read one of your poems.
And of course, there are all the "toilet" references: flush, farting, gas, pissed, ass, bare, smells. Ha!
Love the ending, with the "bull" and "matador" reference. Great poem, JC!
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You are at your best when you write stream of consciousness punning. Take a word like grown and groan and make a poem of it. However, "know moon and new moan"
leave me confused as to how to pronounce these lines. Perhaps it doesn't matter.
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Perhaps "Ambling through a new moon,
known moan darkness..."???
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One thing I've learned through reading these blogs, reading JC's poems, and then hearing him read them, is that they are meant to be read aloud, rolled about on the tongue, savored in the hearing. His exquisite wordplay and clever punning work great on the page-- and are delightful aloud. I've learned so much about writing poetry meant to be read aloud from his poems!
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