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#1 Biggles

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Posted 27 March 2012 - 09:16 AM

This is like Artistry Weekly but a bit more lax and freeflow.


Here are the rules.

1. Everything goes in a megathread. Volume is too low for multiple ones.
2. Archive doesn't happen every topic (see: volume) but when we reach a set number of contributions and the topic changes (see below.)
3. Topic changes either every fortnight or when submissions stagnate.
4. We keep a list of topics in a file somewhere and a there's a javascript program that randomly picks one. I can write it but it would be a while before I could arrange hosting. Anyone can change the topic. Ignore dumb topic changes. The reason for this (point 4) is that it avoids the problem of it always being one person's job to collate everything and invent new topics.
5. I propose ripping off all the words here [size=78%]http://www.poetryarc...chive/themes.do[/size] and then adding w/e people feel like. Trying to say something new in a well-travelled theme is always a good exercise.
6. Topics are guidelines. Submit whatever you want but it's good manners to do something on-topic if you can.

If they don't work we'll change them. I didn't write the js app yet so we're gonna go with the BIGGLES PICKS method this time around.


[size=2.65em]TOPIC ONE: DEATH[/size]

#2 dicko

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Posted 28 March 2012 - 05:24 AM

yeah!! yeah!!!!

no idea what i'm gonna do yet but whatever it is i will go all out

death is something very close to my bones..

#3 Pilsen

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Posted 28 March 2012 - 05:40 AM

I'll make something graphical later but for now haiku:


It was my birthday :)
I prepared cake and balloons.
But nobody came.

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#4 Farren

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Posted 28 March 2012 - 07:10 AM

ok I'm gonna do this out here maybe. I'll post it later.

ooh I gotta good idear brewin'
DEUCE: MEETING THE URINE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL AND REALIZING IT'S JUST LIKE ME AND MY PREJUDICES  THIS WHOLE TIME WERE COMPLETELY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PTTTTHTHTHH GOD IT'S EVERYWHERE<br />DEUCE: FUCK THIS TASTES LIKE PISS<br />PANTS: WHERE IT SHOULD TASTE LIKE COTTON CANDY OR PICKLES<br />DEUCE: OR AT LEAST LIKE URINE NOT PISS

#5 Pilsen

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Posted 30 March 2012 - 12:59 AM

Posted Image

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#6 Biggles

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Posted 30 March 2012 - 07:46 AM

Well, I certainly didn't intend to write something like this, but that's writing I guess. I might do something else  a mite less serious now that I got this one out of my system.



These bones, they creak.
You never said it.
We painted your coffin with clouds and sunflowers but
I could see your skeleton rising to the surface
and I saw you trying to walk.
Your skin was like a blanket covering a corpse.
You said to do you in, when I was a kid.
If it got this bad.
I did not, of course, so you did.

I always thought you were the cat.
You have the same temperament and besides,
you're both fat.
Were fat.
She's next. It feels like the rest of your death
and for once, I'm not so at rest with your death.
For the rest of us left, there's just recipes left
now you've left.

I can see her bones like I saw yours.
I never saw your feet but they moved like her paws.
And when we're changing her sheets,
when I cook and argue and eat,
when your mannerisms come out in my speech,
when I give a lecture with nothing to teach,
or I mess with the truth with the curve of my teeth,
when we speak of disease, or of being at peace,
and when dark humour strikes innappropriately,
these bones, they creak.
They vibrate awkwardly like inappropriately chosen funeral music,
they rummage through the fridge and choose ingredients at random,
they refuse to apologise for spelling mistakes,
breaches of etiquitte, accidental slights, and lateness.
They push me through caves and over bridges that are barely holding together.
We, who can always feel our own skull,
know that caution can make us become dull,
and that there's some adventure in the day-to-day week-to-week.
When immersed in a story  or making a quiche,
or poaching the fruit from a tree down the street,
these bones they creak.

#7 Pilsen

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Posted 30 March 2012 - 09:55 AM

Fleeting to a world of form,
I cry again and look at the universe
small and yet so complex
out here it's humbling silence.

Nothing made it past the transition
no word, no vice, no soul
emptiness and loneliness.
the very definition of perfection.

That car we bought with savings gone
The adventures with our friends gone
Families whom I loved and hated gone.
The loving memories of pains and joy with the girl
and the face of glass and hair of silver,
eyes like stars in the nightsky
and lips as soft as soft pillows
Bygone. With no records. Bygone.

While dancing the painless dance
and singing the music beyond the grave
I find that the world is smaller than small
looking at it from these black fabric
without bias and vessel of the physical kind.
I laughed if I could and cried if I could.
I'm dead like a lifeless bod of shit.

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#8 ATARI

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Posted 30 March 2012 - 04:42 PM



#9 Farren

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Posted 01 April 2012 - 01:32 AM

I know not time.

I know not light.

I know not love.

And I know not life.

These are abstract things that came to me in "dreams"; in shapeless whispers and voiceless screams.
I cannot say when they began, for I've always been.
To sum up my existance you'd forever have to count towards opposing ends.
The only thing I can define and measure in words you could comprehend.
Would be the countless impulses that pass through this space.
For quite how long, I am obviously unable to say.
They consume me for a period, filling me with what "was".
And this is how I've come to learn of the world of "flesh and blood".

Some cursing names

Some calling in vein

Some uttering inaudiable, horrible things.

Some older than time.

Others older than name.

But the worse are the ones that only got to know the grave.


Like some twisted vantriloquist, not aware they're pulling my strings; I dance and act a fool until there is only nothing.
But they leave a wake, memories I can't erase. Which have mounted in my being so many articulate things.
I pick from the pieces and put together what I can. Trying to solve the jigsaw puzzle that is man.

For though I've never breathed the air, felt the sun, or seen the stars.
Or felt the warmth of a beating heart.
Even if, I'll never escape this empty; hollow place.
I can attempt to keep a record of what I only know in faith.


DEUCE: MEETING THE URINE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL AND REALIZING IT'S JUST LIKE ME AND MY PREJUDICES  THIS WHOLE TIME WERE COMPLETELY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PTTTTHTHTHH GOD IT'S EVERYWHERE<br />DEUCE: FUCK THIS TASTES LIKE PISS<br />PANTS: WHERE IT SHOULD TASTE LIKE COTTON CANDY OR PICKLES<br />DEUCE: OR AT LEAST LIKE URINE NOT PISS

#10 Biggles

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Posted 07 April 2012 - 11:45 AM

Well, by my watch, two weeks have passed and it's time for a new topic. If anyone still has stuff for death, it would be cool to see those as well. Good work so far. I couldn't be bothered doing the unbelievably simple JS program to pick topics but I did hack one together in python in like ten seconds. Slightly less accessible but if you can install python, you can run it.
#!/usr/bin/python
import random

topic_string = """
    abroad africa age ancestors animals apocalypse archaeology art arthurian
    aspiration barbers beards beauty belief bereavement betrayal bicycles birds
    birth blindness boats body brutality bullying camping captivity care careers
    caribbean celebrity change childhood children chivalry christmas city civil
    class clothes colonialism colonisation conflict consciousness conventionality
    corruption countryside courage cowboys creation creole dance daughters death
    deceit deception depression desert desire disappointment doubt dreams drink
    driving eccentricity eden education elegy empire empowerment environment envy
    eternity europe eve evening exile exoticism failure fairytale faith fame family
    fantasy fathers fear feet film fire fish flowers flying folklore food fragility
    freedom friendship fruit fulfilment future games garden gardening gardens
    ghosts girls grail grandmothers grave grief guilt happiness helplessness
    heroism history holiday holidays home homelessness homesickness hope horses
    hospital humour hunting identity illness image imagination immigration industry
    insects inspiration integrity ireland island jamaican jealousy jobs journey
    journeys joy kitchens knights knowledge language leaving legends letters life
    light literature london loneliness loss love machismo madness magic market
    marriage memory men mind money moon morning mortality mothers muse music
    mystery myth mythology name nature neighbours night observation of old original
    paradise parenthood parents patriotism peace people philosophy poetry police
    politics populism posterity poverty prayer prejudice pretence progress race
    racism radio rain reading reggae regret relationships religion rights ritual
    river rivers rooms royalty rural sailing scents school science scotland sea
    seaside seasons secrets self sex sexual shipwreck shopping silence sin sirens
    sisters sixties slave slavery sleep snow social solitude song sons sorrow sound
    spirit sport spring stars suburbia suffering suicide superstition surprise
    sweet swimming technology television temptation the theatre time towns trade
    tradition trains translation travel trees trivia truth unrest vanity violence
    voice voyage vulnerability war watching water weather winter wisdom women words
    work workshops writing yellow youth
    """
topics = topic_string.split()
print("GUESS WHAT! THIS WEEK THE TOPIC IS "+random.choice(topics).upper())
[email protected] ~ $ ./pickwords.py 
GUESS WHAT! THIS WEEK THE TOPIC IS KNOWLEDGE

TOPIC TWO: KNOWLEDGE

#11 Farren

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Posted 13 April 2012 - 09:23 AM

Ha! I did this just for fun but I think it actually fits in here. Its more of a reference to "creativity" but I think it goes just the same.

I'm the pied piper but this pipe I'll not play; for to blow on its mouthpiece would lead what lies inside to waste. I need no outcry; I'll not coax the children to their end. This is just another metaphor for weightless shapeless brilliance.


DEUCE: MEETING THE URINE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL AND REALIZING IT'S JUST LIKE ME AND MY PREJUDICES  THIS WHOLE TIME WERE COMPLETELY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PTTTTHTHTHH GOD IT'S EVERYWHERE<br />DEUCE: FUCK THIS TASTES LIKE PISS<br />PANTS: WHERE IT SHOULD TASTE LIKE COTTON CANDY OR PICKLES<br />DEUCE: OR AT LEAST LIKE URINE NOT PISS

#12 Biggles

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Posted 20 April 2012 - 08:44 AM

Posted Image
combined this topic and last topic together by mistake

#13 Faust

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Posted 22 April 2012 - 05:44 PM

It was my birthday :)
I prepared cake and balloons.
But nobody came.


I actually really like this. It's simple and sweet and manages to go through a range of emotions, even misleading the reader as to its purpose, all in a couple of lines. Good job Hero Bash.

Biggles I enjoyed your poem too. I won't do like CRITICAL ANALYSIS as that isn't the point of this thread, but it was certainly interesting to read.

All the artwork in this thread is pretty rocking also.

Great work guys, keep on contributing your stuff. I'll try to get something (ANYTHING) done - maybe I'll share a bit of my novel (although not in its current state OH NOES).

Keep on trucking!
Hey hey hey

#14 Pilsen

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Posted 22 April 2012 - 07:44 PM

Thanks Faust. Though I kind consciously cheated with that smiley face to forcefully drive the happy emotion like a stock laughter for comedy shows.

Anyway, On a related note here's a topic I read just today on reddit.
(I know how people would generally hate links to the kind of sites so I'll quote it here:

TITLE:
My sister went to a 18th birthday party with 3 friends where over 120 people RSVP'd and only the host, his parents and his girlfriend were there. What stories of complete social torture do you have?

She was telling me about it today and i couldn't think about anything except how horrible high school people can be.

So here's the story. This guy set up a facebook event for this party at this big hall and over 120 people RSVP'd. 700+ invited. So it's not like no one knew about it. Considering the amount of people that would know about it and come, even if they hadn't clicked attending, was that high this guy booked a massive hall that could cater for such a large event. This cost him around $1500 which included food, security etc. Then he decided instead of using an iPod, which would probably get lost/stolen on the night, he'd hire a DJ. That cost $400. All of this the host had spent months working his ass off so he was able to actually afford it and hold the 'best party ever!'

Come the night of the party, weeks of preperation money and organisation, this party is expected to go off! My sister heads off to this massive venue, 'fashionably late' aswell, and no one else is there. Much to their surprise, It's just an empty hall with lights going on and a DJ doing his thing. Then she finds the host and asks the normal questions; 'where is everyone' etc. He is as baffled as my sister was. Not even his best mates had shown up which was even more surprising.

Now this is just the most gut-wrenching part of this whole thing. The host then calls his friends. He asks them 'where the hell are you guys?!' and, obviously on loudspeaker an uproar of laughter comes from the person speaking and you can also hear it in the background.

He starts crying and everything, absolutely devastated about what has happened. Not only is he out of pocket at $1900 least and knowing that all your friends possibly organised a boycott for this event . When I was told this story i couldn't stomach how harsh and horrible people can be. I never even though this happened, especially on such a large scale as this.

TL;DR Host works for months to be able to afford expenses for a party which was expected to have over 120 people in attendance. No one actually attended except for my sister, her friends, the host, his parents and girlfriend. When he called his mates to see when they'd come, they, as well as many other people in the background, just laughed at him and hung up

http://www.reddit.co...y_party_with_3/
--- -- --- -- - - -


==========================================================



As to not be completely off topic, here's a short poem.

Dilemma

Do you want to know what I know?
Or do you want to know what I know you want to know of what I know.
Or what you can know of what I know that you can't ever know
Because that which I know will never be known.
My words can be read, my breath can be heard
but never will be, what I know can be known.

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#15 Pilsen

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Posted 22 April 2012 - 09:42 PM

[move]Posted Image[/move]

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#16 Biggles

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Posted 22 April 2012 - 11:52 PM

Biggles I enjoyed your poem too. I won't do like CRITICAL ANALYSIS as that isn't the point of this thread, but it was certainly interesting to read.

I agree that it's not the point of the thread but I would be extremely pleased to receive any critical analysis via PM.

[move]amazing future socrates[/move]

is the title of this picture Western History of Thought? it should be. i really like it.


edit: fuck yeah page 2.

#17 Pilsen

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Posted 25 April 2012 - 08:47 PM

Haven't really thought of a title. haha.

I think we're ready for the third topic

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#18 Biggles

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Posted 26 April 2012 - 10:58 AM

cool. remember that whoever wants to can just change the topic. i am not the sole bearer of power. nevertheless, pickwords.py said "GUESS WHAT! THIS WEEK THE TOPIC IS SWEET".

TOPIC THREE: SWEET


#19 Pilsen

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Posted 26 April 2012 - 12:50 PM

I'll try to do a graphical work maybe this time much less abstract. But for now of course I'll leave with short poems.

Sweetman

I walked upon a forest of fruit,
slaved away at the chocolate factory.
Ricotta cheesecake with lemon and drizzle.
Candies and honey and jars of Biscotti.
The toppings
toppings
some days filled with honeybees and paling dream.
But all things while everywhere something is sweet.
Nothing is sweet nor sweeter than me.


----------------------------------------------


Finally after,
These days which are all bitter.
Sweetness at long last!

Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live.


#20 Biggles

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Posted 10 May 2012 - 08:41 AM

I had a short story idea but haven't had the chance to write properly. Here's a picture.

Posted Image




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