Love is a haiku / short as a cold winter day / empty as this poem There :) Makes no sense whatsoever ;p
The following poems will be explained somewhat, as most of them are more than a little weird :)
A Luv Poem - This was written quickly one night while I was thinking about IRC "marriages" and country music. It works better if you add # to channel names and all that :)
A Luv Poem
I remember the day you married me
When we'd both logged onto IRC
Everyone came to the channel to see us get hitched
And we didn't have to kick anyone for being a -----.
We got a channel registered named ILuvU
And I had fun each night proving it was true
But then you didn't want to accept my dcc send
Said it was a virus and your computer might end.
Then you refused to dcc chat with me again
And chatted with people about your old bf ben.
And I knew I was no longer missed
When you took me off your notify list.
Then you refused to answer my memos anymore
And didn't chat with me in msg saying I was a bore.
And you told everyone else ben was the best.
(I have the logged msg with Kali to prove it!)
I still thought maybe you might kiss me
But you dropped our channel without telling me
And left me feeling broken on the floor
As you broke my heart and put me on ignore.
- Josh MacLeod, July 2001.
The Coke Haikus - It was 4 am and I was helping prove Coke is better than Pepsi because Coke makes better haiku's. Sleep deprivation is the mother of poetry :p
The Coke "Haikus"
| 1 |
In summer green leaves
And the verdant trees whisper
Coke will help me grow |
| 2 |
It is summer now
And even dying of thirst
We won't drink pepsi |
| 3 |
Crunchy candy canes
For Christmas and Santa too
Wears the coke colours |
| 4 |
On mount Olympus
Greek gods dined on honeyed mead
Until they tried coke |
- Josh MacLeod, October 2001.
Maggots: An Ode - What can I say? I went into dal.net's #poetry and the poems about maggots that night just inspired me to, uh, write a poem about maggots. An unrevised, deliberately horrible poem at that.
Maggots: An Ode
The flies buzz slowly round and round,
Leaving maggots on the ground.
Wounds seep puss and flies buzz greed:
Our pain is the source for them to breed.
Our deaths calls them to our bodies,
Breeding in our cancers in horrible quantities,
Even in our refuse pits they thrive,
Anywhere we exist they live.
They are attracted to all that decays,
Only killed by the cold of the end of days
Our crap, our garbage, our refuse --
We make them more homes than they can use.
And when we die they feast on our bones
As our decayed bodies become their homes
They will be here when we are long gone
When the sun dies they too will be done.
Josh MacLeod, Nov 2002
Dying - Same night as the above, an attempt to capture angst :p
Dying
"She ignored me as I died."
*Click*
"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!
You didn't love me when I lived
And you hate me now.
Why?
Why were you born!
Die! Die! Die!"
*Click*
"Yes, officer. I said that.
But it was her fault.
I had to kill her, really.
All egos must die."
- Josh Macleod, Nob 2002
This World - More of the above, but a bit more cruel towards the whole angst thing.
This World
This world is an illusion,
It isn't really here.
I hate you all so much
Because you must be me.
This world doesn't exist
But I am now dead
Because I tripped
Over a rock
That wasn't real.
The end.
- Josh Macleod, Nob 2002
A Poem and A Poem Revised - Just a commentary on how anything can become a poem.
A Poem
B.
- Nov 2001 -
A Poem Revised
B.
S.
- Nov 2001 -
"A Love, Lost", or "Real Alcar Flavouring" - A poem I wrote as a joke to someone because someone else had decided to eat me and my blood was on the floor. Just nod your head like it makes sense.
"A Love, Lost", or "Real Alcar Flavouring"
I bleed for you my one true love
My blood pools on the floor
But you left me here weeping
As you went out the door.
Would you please come back, my love
I don't have much time
I'm fucking bleeding to death
So I can't finish this rhyme
I'm bleeding because I loved you
I wish that you were dead (too)
So I have one last think to say,
You're evil - but I love you.
- Josh MacLeod, August 2002.
The next poem is untitled and was written as a guestbook entry because of the guestbook spiel "Uh, welcome to my guestbook, or something. say nice things or I'll erase your entry."
Nice things said like, oh, "I love you"
Are never really ever true.
It all boils down to opinion
So even a contradiction
Like "I hate loving you" can be
Nice if you don't listen to me.
My words - moving air - let you hear
Whatever you want, so no tears
Need be shed when I say "Guess what?
I don't love you. It was just that
This poem needed an example
And that was a perfect sample
Of how nice is a state of mind.
You'll erase it but I don't mind.
Josh MacLeod, November 2002.
I guess when you become a "poet" you get to stick a laurel leaf up your butt and walk around like that all the time
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