Cheery Poem
great veins of assassination,
striking pain
and (perhaps) satisfaction
shoot close to the surface
and delta at the forefront of this thought
you in a can-canteen routine
your high leg kicks
knock soup on the floor and away from me
oh, lovers, poets, excuses
working together to drown the innocent
so many innocent
though all of them nameless
and faceless
and empty
dropping breathlessly
gasping in thick blood and choking
on the commitment less sex that i crave
at the convergence of this river thought
the future
uses the past as a lifeboat
the lifeboat sinks and drowns
I enjoyed this - even though at first I read it as CHERRY poem. Perhaps someday you’ll write me a private cherry poem, Ablett.
I thought I would try to cheer the cheery poem a little….
My Lover, my Poet, My excuse for my bad assassination.
It grows greater toward you, as I try to press my faceless face on top of your bowelless bowel.
a difficult task especially on Valentines day.
Gary ablett has tackled my faceless face and has kicked the bowels to touch.
a penalty should be called but the referee has been turned into a lifeboat.
A lifeboat built and funded by blue peter.
Bring and buy buy baby buy buy…..
God damn it Husdie, you don’t understand shit! Here are six reasons why you are a Big Ass as my Italian friends would put it:
1. There is no kicking anything to touch in the Ablett-related, Aussie Rules sport.
2. Penalty is not a term used in that vernacular.
3. You’re ugly.
4. You dissect my art and my heart and splash slander across this hallowed turf, hollowing my words and burrowing my truths in your pop-tastic, microwavable dirt.
5. You live in Canterbury.
6. You’ve made me cry.
I think you should go and stand in a corner and think about what you’ve done.
Love Jamie.
But is it that you wanted the sex, or simply the soup? It seems that you should have had the sex in the canteen and choked the innocent on the soup. Though naturally sometimes these things get confused.
All poets are disgusting. Let them wallow in sex soup with heavy words for lifejackets.
Cheery Responses for the Cheery Poem. Odear. Happy Groundhog Day.
I make you cry, I am sorry, my big ass can sometimes get in the way of my greasy heart which a thumpa thump thump with oozing puss.
I have stood in my corner
now i am crying with shame for what i have done,
amen
I’ve tried to comment ten different sentences and all that I could eventually rest on was this.
Poem obviously a Tour de Force, everyone interested, pat on the back?
kick up the soup aisle? sorry. Close comments, quick!
After much legal and linguistic investigation I agree to retract the above comment and make formal apology for all damages to the I Am Not The Real Gary Ablett estate incurred.
I was looking up formal apology letters on the internet (that *is* formal), and I found this beauty, from a serious website, called ‘romantic love letter’. If anyone got sent it on Valentine’s day then I am sorry to crack the dream…
Dear Robert:
I was just reminiscing about Saturday evening; it was such a perfect night.
The subtle breeze made me shiver from time to time, but I’m so glad they had a table for us outside. What a wonderful way to spend an autumn evening.
Sitting across the table from you, listening to your fascinating stories, I was mesmerized.
You’re so passionate and intense when you speak of the things you love. I find that so attractive.
The wine you selected was perfect. Sipping it from the delicate glass enhanced the taste and it warmed my body as it filled up my insides.
Dinner was sumptuous. The pasta was so flavorful; I savored every bite, sucking each strand of linguini slowly through my pursed lips as I listened to you speak.
It was a luscious meal, and you were a delicious date.
I loved it after dinner when we sat there gazing into each other’s eyes sipping our wine. After each sip, the subtle taste of wine lingered on my lips, and I licked them so slowly, catching every last drop. And when you touched my lip with your finger, capturing that one drop of wine that I missed, and then licked your finger, a tingling sensation flooded my entire body.
After dinner, as we walked along the sidewalk hand-in-hand, I realized just how much I love being with you, sharing a meal with you, talking with you, and being a part of your life.
Love and affection,
Diana
She filled her ENTIRE INSIDES with wine.
^ I’d like to find Oliver’s last comment on a grave stone.
I think, Dan, that you shall probably find it on mine.