Verbatim Found Poetry

Autoverse 2

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 24 May 2013 12:04:00 +0000

More than iron, more than lead,
more than gold I need electricity.
I need it more than I need lamb
or pork or lettuce or cucumber.
I need it for my dreams.

More poetry from the output of RACTER, an early 1980s computer programmed to write English prose at random. Via Futility Closet. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

Autoverse

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 22 May 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Bill sings to Sarah.
Sarah sings to Bill.
Perhaps they will do
other dangerous things together.
They may eat lamb
or stroke each other.
They may chant of their difficulties
and their happiness.
They have love
but they also have typewriters.

From the output of RACTER, an early 1980s computer programmed to write English prose at random. Via Futility Closet. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

Cry me a rainbow

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 20 May 2013 08:59:00 +0000

Down by the Fairway waterfront
where all of those artist
studios are the surge
broke into the first floor studios
drawing out paint and chalk across
the whole walkway, splashing
it back up against
the side of the building,
wave by wave,
making this insane rainbow
colored splatter paint all
across the Red Hook
shore. There must have been
mostly red paint
because the ocean in that
little alcove has turned a deep maroon.

Taken from a letter describing the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Submitted by Marika.

The Wisdom of the East

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 17 May 2013 20:58:00 +0000

The face
of nature

reflects
all of

life’s ups
and downs.

Carve your
name on

your heart,
not in

marble.
You are

the center
of attention

wherever
you go.

Three slips of paper inside fortune cookies from a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, New York City. Submitted by J.R. Solonche.

Cold hands

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 15 May 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Feel me 'ands.
Go on, feel em.
Freezing.
I've got gloves in me bag,
can't wear em.
Make me 'ands cold.
Got em off our Mandy for Christmas.
I'll wear them next week though.
Going down to see our Mandy.
Look at me fingers.
Blue wi' cold they are.
Feel me 'ands.
They're freezing.

A customer in my place of work, January 2013. Submitted by Pauline.

Life With Only Its Head Out Of Water

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 13 May 2013 09:52:00 +0000

Why should we
tolerate
a diet of
weak poisons, a home in insipid
surroundings, a circle
of acquaintances
who are not
quite
our enemies, the noise
of motors with
just enough
relief to prevent
insanity?

Who would want to live in a world which is just not
quite
fatal?

Taken from Rachel Carson's Silent Spring (Houghton Mifflin, 1962), p 12. Submitted by Wesley Brown.

Valentine

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 10 May 2013 08:00:00 +0000

You haven’t forgotten
Anastasia
Marina
Natasha
have you?
i hope you stay well.

will you be my valentine?
there are no
obligations.
no fee to pay

this chance comes just once
in a lifetime
again
this chance comes
just once
in a lifetime

Svetlana is waiting.

A compilation of various subject lines from my Spam box. Submitted by Mr. Wilson.

Kinship and Community

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 08 May 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Him

In our turning we do this, that or the other. I’ve lived in this turning for fifty years,
and here I intend to stay. They’re new here they’ve only been here eighteen years.

I’ve got friends at work and friends at sport and friends I have a drink with. I know
all the people around here, and I’m not invited into anyone else’s home either.

It doesn’t seem right somehow. Your home’s your own.

They’re all related in this street. It’s awful, you can’t talk to anyone in the street about any of the others,
but you find it’s a relative. You have to be very careful.

Her

It’s friendly here. You can’t hardly ever go out without meeting someone you know. Often it’s someone you were at school with.

Since we’ve had the children I’ve got no more friends – outside the family I mean.
I don’t see my best friend much. She’s married too, and she’s always round

her Mum’s like I’m always round mine. Since we’ve had the baby, I’ve got no men friends – outside the family, that is.

Direct quotes from the research commentary in Family and Kinship in East London, by Michael Young and Peter Willmott (Pelican Books, 1957). Submitted by Peter Raynard.

Mythologise Anything

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 06 May 2013 08:42:00 +0000

A recent exhibition of the work
of American artist Jeff Koons was
called Everything's Here. I subscribe to that
worldview: you can live on "lipgloss and
cigarettes". There are more references to
TV shows and showbiz entertainers

in my songs than references to the
Greek myths but it's all valid. You can
mythologise anything if you put
your mind to it. In a way it's more fun
to look for profundity in something
that's not designed to have it. Or maybe

that's just awkwardness on my part – I do
have a tendency towards that. When I
was nine years old, we were learning how to
draw bar charts at school when the teacher
decided to construct one based on the
times we got up in the morning to get

ready for school. For some reason I was
determined to have a bar on the graph
all to myself and so claimed to rise at
6am every morning (which was an
obvious lie as I was usually at
least five minutes late each day). The teacher

was sceptical but let it go and, much
to my satisfaction, I got my own
exclusive bar. I don't know why I was
so determined to be different from all
the other members of my class, but it
felt important to me. Perhaps it still

is. But I'd like to think that it was more
than mere cussedness on my part, that it
was the start of a sensibility,
a desire to look in the less obvious
places – less obvious because they were
right under your nose. Pulp was the perfect

name for the band because this was an attempt
to find meaning in the mass-produced and
throwaway world that was, after all, what
we were surrounded by on a daily
basis. To sift through and find some beauty
in it all. Take a look – it is there.

Taken from Jarvis Cocker: the secrets of Pulp's songs, The Guardian, 16th October 2011. Submitted by Marika.

Shizzle

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 03 May 2013 08:00:00 +0000

fo shizzle ma nizzle
is a bastardization of

fo' sheezy mah neezy
which is a bastardization of

for sure mah nigga
which is a bastardization of

I concur with you whole heartedly
my African american brother

Definition 3 for 'fo shizzle ma nizzle' in the Urban Dictionary. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

I was playing D&D when I Came Out

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 01 May 2013 08:00:00 +0000

and I don't know if
I would have
been able to

had it not been
for the positive influence

that the game had
on me.

Why?

Because
it taught me
to be self-reliant.
It taught me to not

stand around

waiting

for some man to rescue me.

It taught me to always,
always,

check the ceiling
before entering a room.

From the LiveJournal blog of wyrmwwd. Submitted by Veronica.

Wanted

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Easy Work! Excellent Pay!
Must be able to service the greater Northwestern area
Must have ability to climb poles
Must be willing to work varying hours and days

Must be a highly motivated, honest and aggressive self-starter
Must be able to service the greater Northwestern area
Must be clean, reliable, good with people, and have good morals
Must be willing to work varying hours and days

Must be hardworking and have own truck and tools.
Must be a highly motivated, honest and aggressive self-starter
Must be a skilled, "hands-on" person with a desire to create quality product
Must be clean, reliable, good with people, and have good morals

Assemble products at home.
Must be hardworking and have own truck and tools.
Must be fun, and energetic with a customer-service attitude
Must be a skilled, "hands-on" person with a desire to create quality product

Must be an aggressive, motivated, enthusiastic, retired military officer
Assemble products at home.
No experience or training required.
Must be fun, and energetic with a customer-service attitude

No phone calls please.
Must be an aggressive, motivated, enthusiastic retired military officer
Must be bondable and know federal regulations
No experience or training required.

Must be familiar with procedures and equipment
No phone calls please.
Must be trustworthy, dependable and possess leadership ability
Must be bondable and know federal regulations

Prefer high school graduate
Must be familiar with procedures and equipment
Earn money at home reading books.
Must be trustworthy, dependable and possess leadership ability

Must comprehend English well and be in good physical shape
Prefer high school graduate
Must be an ambitious, level-headed problem-solver
Must be trustworthy, dependable and possess leadership ability

Must be friendly and zippy
Must comprehend English well and be in good physical shape
Must have a neat and clean appearance.
Must be an ambitious, level-headed problem-solver

Will train.
Must be friendly and zippy
We want some hard working, clear thinking, basically good people.
Must have a neat and clean appearance.

Must be outgoing, ambitious, patient, and work well with children
Will train.
Must be dependable, enthusiastic, reliable, highly motivated, articulate and well-dressed
We want some hard working, clear thinking, basically good people.

$4.50 per hour (depending on experience)
Must be outgoing, ambitious, patient, and work well with children
Must be well-groomed and able to drive a stick-shift.
Must be dependable, enthusiastic, reliable, highly motivated, articulate and well-dressed

Easy Work! Excellent Pay!
Must have ability to climb poles

Taken from the want ads in the San Francisco Chronicle, 1991, and arranged into a pantoum. First published in Trade Trax, the newsletter of an organisation called Tradeswomen. Submitted by Lita Kurth.

Hanging Lie

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Looks at the ground
So little light left
No wind at all
It has to happen now

Avenue of humanity
Red, clamouring together

What have I done? 

All words taken from commentary of the final day of the US Augusta Masters golf tournament. BBC Radio 5, 10.30–11.00pm BST, 14 April 2013. Submitted by Winston Plowes.

More Pigs Occur

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 09:47:00 +0000

So.

The first thing we see
is a plastic trash bag
with some paper chains spilling out.
A man
in a green t-shirt grabs it and deposits it
in a dumpster.
A boy
on a bike watches him.
A man uproots
some plants in a greenhouse
and harvests the squiggling maggot-y worms in the potting soil.
He puts a couple of them into medicinal capsules. Mirrors figure
conspicuously.

Later
something happens to Kris.
The man
puts her under a spell. She sees, tastes, feels
and does whatever he tells her to, but she can't
look at him because he says

his head is made of the same substance as the sun.

Her mind records
entire conversations, and the complete text
of Henry David Thoreau's Walden.
Another man collects, records
and plays sounds
and performs synchronous surgery on Kris
and a pig, apparently transferring a parasite
from one to the other, establishing
an indefinable psychic link
between them.

Kris encounters Jeff
on a train.
They connect. Their thoughts
get mixed up, which is to say that they're both convinced
that some of their memories have been
appropriated by the other. Their conversations
transpire
in several different places at once, or perhaps
at different times
in the same place.

Or different times at once. Some orchids growing
on tree roots
by the edge of a stream
change color.

More pigs occur.

Some association
is evinced between them, Kris
and other somnambulists.

Kris is
confused
and afraid.

From a review of the film Upstream Colour, RogerEbert.com, 11 April 2013. A few subclauses left out. Submitted by Wesley Brown.

The new wasteland

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 08:06:00 +0000

This is how Americans live today
drinking coffee made from snow
and living in tents and
buying guns to kill each other
especially children
some people complain about the guns

These trees are full of snow
You’ll see there are no birds
they’ve been eaten by the people
who live in these tents and corridors
this man awaits heroin
their houses blow down very easily
and they have to live in tents like these

Again, there are no birds in the trees
apart from these
which will be eaten on Tuesday
they are yummy
You can also eat the snow
of which there is plenty

These people lie huddled together
with their dead friends in blue body bags
drinking coffee-cups full of local snow
They are very good friends
They are together in adversity

In other parts of America
often disguised as foreign countries in Europe
people live the same terrible life
This man, a former Republican candidate for Oregon
is now having to get coffee made of snow
from these trucks
Many Americans have to live like this daily
and are entitled to one cup most days
The weather is freezing
but the hot snow tastes nice
They enjoy it immensely

Meanwhile in the major offices
factories and railway stations
people sit around
under expensive adverts for Dell computers
drinking snow from plastic cups
People pass by, not caring
for they are all in the same situation
These telephones no longer work
There is no one to call

This is how they live in modern day America
Huddled together – the poor, the cold, the lonely
and the homosexual
Mean time these people queued up for handouts
from the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
and were each given a cake

Taken from a North Korean propaganda film. Submitted by Grace Andreacchi.

Commuter Chat

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

I have a vision of the universe
– because nobody can find the end of it –
as stuffed in a glass jar
on someone's desk,
maybe God's desk
but a desk, anyway.

I think the white noise on TV
is the leftover noise
from the Big Bang. 

Overheard at Macclesfield station, March 2013. Submitted by Ailsa Holland.

The Secret Life of Daniel Craig, Poet

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Awake at dawn with nothing to do.
I don't want to think about it.

Aung San Suu Kyi.
Jealousy.

Travel. Home.
It all depends on how you interpret them.

Answering questionnaires.
I don't know if I do.

"Fuck off."
At a free bar.

Opposable toes.
Ruddy.

My knees.
Oh, they're just perfect.

Krill. Ink.
Where I live now.

My third nipple.
A good mustache. A good mustache.

E.E. Cummings and Kurt Vonnegut.
Maggie and Milly and Molly and May.

Blisters. Quickly.
"Breathe in... breathe out. Repeat."

Daniel Craig's interview answers in The Proust Smackdown: Three Kings and a Questionnaire, Vanity Fair Magazine, February 2012. Submitted by J.R. Solonche.

Listen

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

And finally the storm recedes.
Insects begin to stridulate,
just a few at first -- then in their thousands
and countless exotic birds
starting to call out to one another,
their cries reverberating
as if in a giant cathedral.

Taken from episode 3 of BBC Radio 4's Noise: A Human History, written by Berni Krause. Submitted by Stevie Ronnie.

Doubles

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

I miss you. I hark back to the friendship
we used to have, impromptu adventures,
knowing the everyday details of each
other's lives, nights in watching trashy TV.

I've been there at 3am when you've clutched
my hand and explained he's dependable
and he'll make a great father. I want to
tell you that it's the 21st century

but you don't listen to me any more.
I am impeccably polite. I put on
a rictus grin when you spend an hour
discussing your wedding plans. I am

becoming a souvenir of your past life,
to be gradually discarded for
women you can play doubles tennis with.
I'm happy for you. But I wish you'd call.

From What I'm really thinking: the single friend, The Guardian, 26 January 2013. A few words omitted: 'that' (line 6), 'I know, 'really' (9), 'something' (14); and sub clauses removed in lines 8 and 12. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

I do like a pleasure every now and again

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Sometimes I eat that 'plastic' ham or cheese singles.
I've also read some really (so-called) trashy books.
I have a fondness for Harry Styles and quite like Cheryl Cole.

I must be pretty thick and uneducated,
or so it would seem, despite the fact that
I often eat in 'high-end' restaurants,
read (so-called) literary fiction
and regularly go to the theatre.

I don't want to read 50 Shades,
but don't give a monkey's poop who else reads it.
Read what you like I say, just accept that maybe
I don't want to read it. I have no interest
in reading Austen, Trollope, Eliot or Dickens either –
so my disinterest crosses many boundaries!

As yet, I have not watched Gogglebox,
but I expect that if I do, I may be hooked.

My cranberry sauce usually comes from B&M.
I have cider in the salad drawer,
and I also like my red wine cold - yes, cold –
and usually the bottle has a screw top!

There are loads of books that I don't want to read,
things that I don't want to watch
and places that I don't want to eat in.
However, lots of people do - and surely that's fine?

I like my life, my food and my books to be diverse.

Text from a friend's facebook status, and from her responses to other people's comments on it. Submitted by Angi Holden.

Four Trees Quartet

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Eastern Hemlock

The leaves fall upon drying.
A poor Christmas tree.
Poor quality of wood.

Stonelike hardness of the knots
will chip steel blades.
Lumber taken for pulp.

Useful for railroad ties.
Holds spikes exceptionally well.
Bark rich in tannin.

A tea was once made from leaves
and twigs by woodsmen and Indians.
As fuel, the wood throws sparks.

Japanese Honeysuckle

Fruits eaten
by birds and mammals

and the dense cover
is much used,

but generally speaking
it is a weed.

Smooth Blackhaw

Fruits eaten
by foxes,

bobwhites,
and several

songbirds.
Some people

also like them

Bullbrier Greenbrier

Some twigs
may be

without
prickles.

Taken from George A. Petrides, A Field Guide to Trees and Shrubs (Houghton Mifflin Marcourt, 1973). Submitted by J. R. Solonche.

The Bravest Man

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

Most of them were left just where they fell.
We came to the man with big mustache;
he lay down the hills towards the river.
The Indians did not take his buckskin shirt.
The Sioux said, 'That is a big chief. That is Long Hair.'
I don’t know. I had never seen him. The man
on the white-faced horse was the bravest man.

Two Moon, a Cheyenne chief, recalling the Battle of Little Bighorn in an interview for McClure’s Magazine, September 1898. Via Futility Closet. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

What We Should Be Doing

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 08:00:00 +0000

We ought to be reading
poetry too
of course
and nonfiction

We should read
instruction manuals
legal documents
restaurant reviews and corporate newsletters

We should follow weird people
on Twitter
and go to lots of parties
and have lots of intense
and ridiculous
conversations with drunk people

We should go
home for the holidays
and argue with our families
and we ought to
listen
to lots of music
and we ought to watch
plenty of television

We should eavesdrop
and we should gossip

We should probably be in therapy

We should probably drink
more coffee.

From "Most contemporary literary fiction is terrible", a discussion about how literary fiction writers should improve their craft. Submitted by Wesley Brown.

Across & Down

noreply@blogger.com (Marika) — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 08:05:00 +0000

Police officer, at times,
bane of the farmer’s wife.
Safest option:
Shirley’s partner.

Outside
snatch Rosemary—
thine
from the Vienna Woods,
winning for the moment
expectant, perhaps
bound together—
perturbed
auriculate
bottomless.

Troublesome,
change the packaging.

Bridge support
where Tanumafili is king.
Type of master
problems for Job.
He didn’t finish his sentence:
the man of a thousand faces.

Utterly beat,
Cosmonaut Gagarin
comes ashore.
Three steps and a shuffle.

Clues from the New York Times crossword, 18th July 1993. Submitted by Joan Siegel.

Backstage

noreply@blogger.com (Gabriel Smy) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Phaeton chariot and Argus’ head,
One lion skin.
One tomb of Dido, one bedstead
Canopy, old Mahomet’s head.
Iron targets, one Mercury's wings,
City of Rome, one golden fleece
Belin Dun's stable, one bear's skin
Tantalus' tree
And Phaeton's limbs.

Items picked out of an inventory of 'all the properties for my Lord Admiral's men' – the Elizabethan theatre company – taken by impresario Philip Henslowe, 10 March 1598. Via Futility Closet. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.