|Lonely Death Of Sad Little Jackass
Stuffed jackass lay sprawled across an underpass.
Yesterday he rocked lawless against its entrance walls,
and had even been taken for a ride in a trolley
by a gang of always on holiday school kids,
keeping one or two steps ahead of the cops,
hanging fast, loose, cool, cruising.
Novelty wears thin when worn by the young
and after surviving a close call to do him in,
burn him to his rockers, he was slung down here.
Early A.M., and an addict missed his vein,
shot the lot into Jack's ass as he tripped.
Poor jackass, passed away as the smell of stale frying
curled in the air vents.
Why do we pretend society's on the mend and not sick,
when a prick can do for a defenceless toy.
Goodbye jackass, we all love you, even though you died in vain.
8 Jun 08
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Don't worry your mane surrounded brain DL. After all its only words and being a man of action I wouldn't know what any of them mean.
Larry and words are all i have to take your heart away Lark
You can have the chest hair, just leave me the manly roar that will echo across the still plain in the heart of the dark continent calling my harem in for a night of cubbing
Larry lions share lark
OOOOPPPPSS did i say cubbing, actually i meant clubbing, and not the sort that cavepersons waves about as they chased their prey across empty spaces.
I like what you're trying to say in lines 14 and 15/16. But I agree with DeformedLion that the ending needs a little work.
the ending is deeply ironically funny - what an antidote to some of the truly sentimental claptrap on here - people holding each other's hearts, ruby red lips, blah blah fishcakes - go to it larry.
an irony that underlines the little conceit of averting our eye from these troubled times -- packaged in' larry the cut through it with wit larkisms' that show us that the fool is wise and the wise foolish who do not see this absurdity --
a lot of (anger?), but told with your humorous voice.
It is unfortunate but true that everything needs to be worked on in the constant struggle towards imperfection
I think you are on message with this little ditty
Larry singing into space Lark
What a great read, Larry, as always. After a difficult day working with clients in crisis, this was perfect. Just what I needed :) Thank you.
Hey, this is pretty funny. You missed the last line, though, should be 'died in vein!"
In keeping with the piece, of course.
I would gladly pull my pants down but unfortunately there is very little of interest down there to show
Larry Y-Fronted Lark
You are literally a hoot
Much to like in this new poem.
I wonder, though, if the modifer "sad" is essential to the title?
Death of Little Jackass might serve:
The finish line contains a logic error, imo.
why would we NOT love jackass even if it had NOT died in vain?
I'll ignore the jackass pun-finish. No, I won't. It's central to the point
of making the reader feeling a bit 'had', as was the toy, as if the reader just got toyed with.
this kind of folk poetry never loses its interest cause it's just like reading the papers, cause it's just talking about things that can't be talked about, using high-class words and ways of saying so's the author can get a hug. cholera is a hug.
Thanks Joey for taking the time to crit my poem. I know you are very busy in literary circles, movin' and a groovin' and to think someone who has had greatness bestowed upon them could even think to look in my direction, well words cannot describe the way i feel
Larry I got a feelin' Lark
I am the antidote and admire your work.
Larry pysco head Lark
PS I can't spell but what the hell
larry, i got a leak, lark, you should think of editing your poems, cause you're writing from spite, not inspiration. it's one thing to have something suggested by an image or a word you've overheard, but it's quite anoooother thing to think that that's the force which inspires -- you've had already had to have had a working alienation from the world working on your identity and imagination. the word or phrase or video or person who whipped you into a liberal frenzy would only be a catalyst for what already was mostly written as lived. this one is just noodling, and i know you really are just using it as scratch-paper poetry.
when you kiss death, it won't kiss back. don't play with puns, invent them.
your a real pal and i really appreciate it.
Just playin daft. Preachy. Don't tell us what to think. Be lots more subtle. 'jackass' seems wrong as a description of this character. It fits your wordplay is all.
yeah, it's like he'd seen the videos for rent at the store and sort of knew you were supposed to use the word to punch a button.
the thing that get's me is that i'm still feeling for the burro, human and animal, cause i know what they're like for real. this is just urban folksong. no way that there's enough substance. this is, like, kandinsky's stuffed animals.
you mean as well as cocktailing with auden, exhibiting in the getty and the new york museum of modern art, schmoozing with chomsky, driving a dumper truck, fraternising with ferlinghetti, having random house offer you a five million dollar advance, inventing fractalcore, sporting birkenstocks, knowing how to use a computer, inventing your very own spellings of words such as (sic) devine, you've also lived as a donkey - wow I stand in awe joey. Next you'll be tellling us you really exist.
sorry to add this to your poem larry but i couldn't think of a better place to express my wonderment at this.......deeevinitee we have among us.
In Britain he would not be allowed to languish without honour or recognition of all his many wondrous and spectacularly diverse talents, he would at the very least be made a Dame Of The Royal Garter and would freely be allowed to mix with Queens. Arise Dame Joey I'm glad to have known a man for our times.
P.S. Would it be possible for you to drive a petrol Tanker through picket lines and fill up my local gas station as due to a strike we are running short of fuel over here in little old England. Go on Joey, I know you can do it as you've said so many times, you can do anything.
from Stormy Petrel
i never hung out with auden. it just wasn't done.
well him being at least 50 years older than you and the greatest poet on both sides of the pond at the time fraudy - slip of the tongue - i mean joey, he'd have squished you like a slug.
"...having random house offer you a five million dollar advance, inventing fractalcore, sporting birkenstocks, knowing how to use a computer, inventing your very own spellings of words such as (sic) devine..."
hey dued, what the hell is that? i would never ever let anybody do the work for me as i am my own creation and making. if joey's finding something he could appreciate in what i do then it shouldn't be a problem for/to you; it is for me to decide. you just gotta have a common ground to have a dialogue/conversation with somebody; if it's not your turf then let him be and find your own with your kind of talk/speak[ing] partner. i would kill him if he ever tried to invent me but he'd never do that. some people are just not comfortable with other people's intensity and joey is precisely not here to be liked just like that -- rod, line, sinker, hook and bait. he admits he is a shit and he does that on purpose and i think it's really hard to win the confidence of such a difficult man. i'm just trying to be fair to everyone here and i don't have a problem with him or YOU or anybody else so can't we all just get along? we're all here for all the help we can give or get and we should be thankful.
larry dear sir lark, sorry to do this to your poem's comment section. wish i could write poetry instead in response to your piece but i don't even have a comment for your piece.
or did i just write one? anyway, you'll always have my respect, sir.
no, all of you.
Having just read your comment in order to push past another few seconds in the blink of an eye, I have suddenly developed an uncontrollable winking in my left lid.
Larry pull of the wool lark
hmm, an overactive right brain hemisphere.
blame it on the overthinking left hemisphere maybe?
You hip bones connected to your thigh bone, your thigh bones connected to....
Larry mysterious hemispheres of the body Lark
CHUNKS END HIGH MIST-TEAR LARRY CIRCUIT BYPASS LARK
notice nor see
no sides taken
nor areas squared
cubed much less
flat out repetitious
bipolar infinitely singular
plush or less
thanks and hi, mister larry circuit bypass lark.
Being in a somewhat delicate state at the moment i have been dragged back down momentarilyinto the false reality created for me. This may be called depression or whatever, for which i take none of their medicine. However not believing in mumbo jumbo about a so called mysterious being and accepting the reality that death is the end and that we function precariously on the end of a heart beat has been an extremely liberating experience for me, though hard to live with
Larry knife edge Lark
i hope you stay well and healthy,
mister larry live like a phoenix lark.
I'll be there
Larry I'm a survivor Lark
i think i've heard people say that living is believing
but i don't really know what that means.
may the force be with you.
I am always being forced fractlefore, though i have spent a lifetime resisting
Larry without the force lark
You know me fracts(sorry about the football inflection there but all i have been reading about on the sports pages recently is guff about Roons Lamps Stevie Crouchie Coley and it has crept into my venacular so to speak) ..resistant to the end. I was going to read this poem last night at an arts festival, as it it one of my favs but unfortunately got thrown out for ..how can i put this...being in an emotional state.
Larry highly charged when it comes to Jackasses Lark
larry un-unleash your wild self lark.
wow. intense write.