Archives For Poetry

Here is an oldie but a goodie. This story made it’s rounds years ago as an email forward. I’m sure everyone has seen it before but maybe you forgot it – enjoy:

——-

THE PLAN

In the beginning was The Plan.
And then came the assumptions.
And the assumptions were without merit.
And The Plan was without substance.

And darkness was upon the face of the workers.
And they spoke among themselves, saying, “It is
a crock of shit, and it stinketh.”

And the workers went unto their supervisors and said,
“It is a pail of dung, and none may abide the odor thereof.”

And the supervisors went unto their managers, saying, “It is
a container of excrement and it is very strong, such that
none may abide by it.”

And the managers went unto their directors, saying,
“It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong.”

And the directors went unto the VPs, saying unto them,
“It promotes growth and it is very powerful.”

And the VPs went unto the Prez, saying unto him, “This plan
will actively promote the growth and vigor of the company,
with powerful effects.”

And the Prez looked upon the plan, and saw that it was good.
And The Plan became Policy.
This is how shit happens!

——-

Let me share my personal take on this… Continue Reading…

Oh the lengths spammers go to in order to get past your spam filter. The sad thing is, I can’t tell what they are even trying to sell, which begs the question- WTF? It’s Just a cryptic message – maybe it is the first line from various books, or a random sentence. In any case, this one struck me as a pretty good piece of abstract, modern poetry. And so, I pass it on to you, noble reader, as a form of “found art”, not mine, not anyone’s really. Enjoy.

Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
Stars, the last day, endless and centerless,
The purest form is always the one
II. List of Franklin Search Parties
People might see to be the opening
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
Not so much of place as of renewed hope,
And beyond, the same sound of bees
Left and right, and far ahead in the dusk.
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
What is there in the depths of these walls
So you can watch me watch uplifted snow
at balls hit again and again toward her offspring.
So you can watch me watch uplifted snow
He is harsh, dismal, ice—that is, exiled;
Bronze the sky, with no
The mortal architect had brought to life,
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
The pain of being born into matter.

Update: After Googleing (or is it Googling?) the first line, I found that all the lines seem to be randomly selected from this page at the University of Chicago. Nice.