More Peotry

Perhaps because they feel that the Fare Evader messages on the walls of the trains make for a rather depressing trip, Connex have recently taken to posting artwork and poetry on the walls. The poetry is of the vague, near-meaningless type, full of pretty adjectives and images of mist. From memory, here's one of them:

He took hold
Of my hair
And spun me into gold.

It starts with an ordinary image and ends with a pointless metaphor. Of course, one of the other poems is even worse. It has the chopped grammar you find in a lot of modern poems, a pretty natural image, and a judgmental conclusion:

Melbourne: in the autumn mist
You look more beautiful
Than you deserve.

This sort of poetry is so simple, anyone could write it. So I did. Here's a sample poem I've written. I call it

An Observation
Green fields: morning.
A turd: steaming.
In my heart: despair.

Chopped grammar, a natural image, 'steam' instead of 'mist', and a ludicrous ethical conclusion. I told you anyone could write it!
My second poem is again set in nature. I call it ...

Pastorelle
Old cow chews grass
Thoughtfully
On the hill

Drops a pat or two
Fretfully
..............Regretfully
On the hill.

This is probably my favourite. When I wrote it, I wasn't sure whether to use the word 'Fretfully' or 'Regretfully' in the second stanza. I decided on both.
My third effort is about the beauties of nature - as all poetry should be - but it has a surprising twist!

I Do Not Think That I Shall Ever See: A Haiku
Glad, green, vivid: gosh!,
They have some nice tree paintings
At the library!

I wanted to use the phrase 'The eternal transience of existence' in that somewhere, but it just doesn't fit into a haiku, dammit!
My next poem, I'm not so sure about. It feels a little unfinished, but I like the cryptic title I've given it:

Look At What You've Driven Me To, Linda
All day,
I peer into
The brick.

What is
Your secret
Brick?

The fucking
Thing
Won't tell me!

All that's
Left
Is suicide.

Fuck!

I think what the speaker is trying to say in this poem is, he tried to find meaning in a seemingly random, meaningless, everyday object, and ended up seeing how meaningless his own life was!
I think this poem should be read by Kurt Cobain.
The following poem is grandiose in conception, describing one of the true glories of nature.

Damn! I Wish I Hadn't Drunk So Much!
Rushing river,
Turbid torrent,
Cutting courses
Through grass, through bush;
Coursing through to
Lake or ocean,
Not before
Cutting canyons,
Moving mountains:
Rushing river,
Golden stream.

*Zips fly up*
*Moves on to next poem.*

My favourite part about the following poem is the title, but the subject is truly awesome.

Au Naturelle
The perfumes of nature:
Spore-rich sensations
Swirl through the air.

Inhale deeply
Of these rich aromas
From my sweaty socks.

This is the final poem in the current sequence. It's a little vignette, inspired by William Carlos Williams So Much Depends. It's titled:

Untitled
I once had
A tapeworm.

It was
Very long.

My very
first pet!

It died and
I cried

And cried
And cried

And cried
Some
more.

I dedicate these poems to David, who has recently been touched by the Muse himself. I strongly suspect he's got himself a copy of Billy Corgan's poetry and been inspired ...