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The Fée Verte Absinthe Forum - The Oldest, Largest, Most Authoritative Absinthe Forum. > The Monkey Hole > Arts & Philosphical Sundries

Absinthe, that anise siren
though plaguebane named,
writhes and coils intimately
through the psychic warrens of perception.

Serpentine, smokelike wraith
whispering and cajoling
ethereal perspectives.

Smooth, vaulting pyrotechnic arcs
of sublime fantasy
incongruent with the sharp angles
of sober reality.

And wash spent, enthralled
upon the distant emerald shores
of intoxicated insight.

Shipwrecked, but immortal.
WTF does this have to do with a pome? I mean, come on, I like fruit.
user posted image

But, seriously...I dig the poem, my fellow Washingtonian. (Then again...I DID receive a very nice surprise today, courtesy of the flying monkeys, and could NOT resist getting into it!) Be that as it may, I would only change a couple of words:

through the psychic warrens of perception.

through the labyrinthine warrens of perception.

incongruent with the sharp angles

soften the sharp angles

Whaddya think?
Donnie Darko
Roses are red
Children like slurpees
Jacal has a disease
Guess what it is...
Oh you guys. And here I thought no one cared.

Well yeah, Grimmy, if the fruit fits, bite it.

‘Labyrinthine’ works. I like it. Ties in with the sinuous metaphors. I was going for the mental/mind reference, but I guess the ‘perception’ makes it redundant.

I was going for the juxtaposition. I actually entertained ‘jangles’ which would alliteratively bookend ‘angles’, but I decided that the original ‘incongruent’ was more the exact context I wanted.

I have Serpis?? You know, I’ve heard those rumors about that stuff...that red color is just so wrong.

In retrospect it’s probably a little over the top for an mere anise liquor drunk, but Rimbaud and Crosby were two who certainly didn’t think in those terms, and I tried to rise to the spirit of their absintheur hyperbole.

But I was beginning to think I’d actually have to start rhyming the damn thing before anyone would take notice.
Enoch Soames
How about "through the Earl Warrens of perception"?

Nice one, jacal01.
(jac- i really liked your poem, so i just felt like f'ing with it, hope that is ok.)


Absinthe, that police siren
Though bread lines shamed,
Writes and cums on tits incesantly
Through the rabbit warrens of prescription drugs

Legless lizards, evaporating the wrath
Of loudmouths and cunt controlling
Trailer park epiphanies

Smothered, open 911 buildings and billing us for unwanted archetypes
Of subliminal dreams
Unequal with the slanted broken angles
Of drunken bangles, babyshambles

Dirty up unspent, to many Francs
Against the closest sleeziest black and blue bruised up whores
Of frat boy fistfights

Lunar landings unstable and selling stolen coral
Here is my mess of your poem
It's not right but it's at least it's immoral.
Immolation is the censorous form of slatternury. abs-cheers.gif

(incessantly...too many Francs(?))
Jack Batemaster
QUOTE(jacas no one @ May 8 2006, 01:51 PM) *

(incessantly...too many Francs(?))

There's really never too many incessant JM Francs. chickawow.gif
I dunno. Some may argue that one is too many. O'course can a laid back JM Francs be construed as somehow more benevolent? blink.gif
If by laidback you mean absent, then I vote yes.
Donnie Darko
Haikus count as pomes.

I miss JMFranc
He made for some great reading
Chicken smells funny
The Standard Deviant
Yesterday I saw a "JBP" reading a thread on here at the same time as me.
In the same way that driving by a bad accident is riveting.

Yeah, we all miss the spice of our noted antagonists these days.

So many Winnies; so few contenders.

Maybe we should have a LFV Hall of Flame:
dr ordinaire

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