A Sonnet For Anti-Strats
lackpurity
Oxfordians extend Eddie's lifespan,
For it's necessary to date the plays.
Eddie was a part of that Noble Clan.
Spenser had him under his perfect gaze.
Marlovians do think they are scholars.
But, faking his death is not established.
Thus, this theory gets whoops and hollers!
He could not remain, surely it was wished.
Baconians say he was Word-Master.
No disputing that, but look at his style.
He prophesied, like a Holy Pastor.
His fame was prose, intended to beguile.
These candidates get lots of attention,
But, the canon was Strat Man's invention.
Michael Martin
Peter G.
news:a0745171-30dc-49d5...@x25g2000prf.googlegroups.com...
This is extarordinary: fourteen decasyllables, and not a pentameter among
them; you'd expect one or two by chance. And yet it shows evident signs of
strain, as though being twisted into some imagined pattern: "Marlovians do
think they are scholars".
The really weird thing is that if we take a much shorter passage of prose
from his previous post we find several chance pentameters, all in unforced
idiomatic Engish:
.
"Marlowe and Shakespeare must have been well known"
"Others were likely trying to ride their coattails."
"which lacked the loftiness of Shakespeare's plays."
"It's similar to hit movies of today,"
There's a fascinating paradox here.
Peter G.
lackpurity
wrote:
> "lackpurity" <lackpur...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
MM:
Whine, whine, whine. A great poet is not held accountable to minor
issues. If you don't believe me, ask Whitman, Dickinson, or the Strat
Man. LOL
Michael Martin
lackpurity
wrote:
MM:
Speaking of paradoxes, Peter G., I think you're a scholar, but did you
know that there are "rhythmic variations," or exceptions to the
rules? For example, read this:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iambic_pentameter#Rhythmic_variation
Rhythmic variation
Although strictly speaking, iambic pentameter refers to five iambs in
a row (as above), in practice, poets vary their iambic pentameter a
great deal, while maintaining the iamb as the most common foot. There
are some conventions to these variations, however. Iambic pentameter
must always contain only five feet, and the second foot is almost
always an iamb. The first foot, on the other hand, is the most likely
to change by the use of inversion, which reverses the order of
unstress and stress in the foot. For example the first line of Richard
III begins with an inversion:
/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ /
Now is | the win- | ter of | our dis- | con- tent
Another common departure from standard iambic pentameter is the
addition of a final unstressed syllable, which creates a weak or
feminine ending. One of Shakespeare's most famous lines of iambic
pentameter has a weak ending:[3]
˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘
To be | or not | to be, | that is | the ques- tion
The symbol \ here has been used to indicate a secondary or subordinate
stress. This line also has an inversion of the fourth foot, following
the caesura. In general a caesura acts in many ways like a line-end:
inversions are common after it, and the extra unstressed syllable of
the feminine ending may appear before it. Shakespeare and John Milton
(in his work before Paradise Lost) at times employed feminine endings
before a caesura[4]
Here is the first quatrain of a sonnet by John Donne, which
demonstrates how he uses a number of metrical variations
strategically:
/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
Bat- ter | my heart | three- per- | soned God, | for you |
˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ / ˘ /
as yet | but knock, | breathe, shine | and seek | to mend. |
˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ /
That I | may rise | and stand | o'er throw | me and bend |
˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ / ˘ /
Your force | to break, | blow, burn | and make | me new. |
Donne uses an inversion (DUM da instead of da DUM) in the first foot
of the first line to stress the key verb, "batter", and then sets up a
clear iambic pattern with the rest of the line (da DUM da DUM da DUM
da DUM). In the second and fourth lines he uses spondees in the third
foot to slow down the rhythm as he lists monosyllabic verbs. The
parallel rhythm and grammar of these lines highlights the comparison
Donne sets up between what God does to him "as yet" ("knock, breathe,
shine and seek to mend"), and what he asks God to do ("break, blow,
burn and make me new"). Donne also uses enjambment between lines three
and four to speed up the flow as he builds to his desire to be made
new. To further the quickening effect of the enjambment, Donne puts an
extra syllable in the final foot of the line (this can be read as an
anapest (dada DUM) or as an elision).
As the examples show, iambic pentameter need not consist entirely of
iambs, nor need it have ten syllables. Most poets who have a great
facility for iambic pentameter frequently vary the rhythm of their
poetry as Donne and Shakespeare do in the examples, both to create a
more interesting overall rhythm and to highlight important thematic
elements. In fact, the skillful variation of iambic pentameter, rather
than the consistent use of it, may well be what distinguishes the
rhythmic artistry of Donne, Shakespeare, Milton, and the 20th century
sonneteer Edna St. Vincent Millay.
Linguists Morris Halle and Samuel Jay Keyser discovered a set of rules
(English Stress: Its Forms, Its Growth, and Its Role in Verse, Harper
and Row, 1971) which correspond with those variations which are
permissible in English iambic pentameter. Essentially, the Halle-
Keyser rules state that only "stress maximum" syllables are important
in determining the meter. A stress maximum syllable is a stressed
syllable surrounded on both sides by weak syllables in the same
syntactic phrase and in the same verse line. In order to be a
permissible line of iambic pentameter, no stress maxima can fall on a
syllable that is designated as a weak syllable in the standard,
unvaried iambic pentameter pattern. Notice that the word God is not a
maximum. That is because it is followed by a pause. Similarly the
words you, mend, and bend aren't maxima since they are each at the end
of a line and if they weren't it would mess up the rhyme of mend/bend
and you/new. Rewriting the Donne quatrain showing the stress maxima
(denoted with an 'M') results in the following:
/ ˘ ˘ M ˘ M ˘ / ˘ /
Bat- ter | my heart | three- per- | soned God, | for you |
˘ M ˘ / / / ˘ M ˘ /
as yet | but knock, | breathe, shine | and seek | to mend. |
˘ ˘ ˘ M ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ /
That I | may rise | and stand | o'er throw | me and bend |
˘ M ˘ / / / ˘ M ˘ /
Your force | to break, | blow, burn | and make | me new. |
[edit] History
Latin verse included lines of ten syllables. It is widely thought that
some line of this length, perhaps in the Alcmanian meter, led to the
ten-syllable line of some Old French chansons de geste such as The
Song of Roland, those lines have a caesura after the fourth syllable.
This line was adopted with more flexibility by the troubadours of the
12th century, notably Cercamon, Bernart de Ventadorn, and Bertran de
Born.[5] In both Old French and Old Provençal, the tenth syllable of
the line was accented and feminine endings were common, in which case
the line had eleven syllables. Italian poets such as Giacomo da
Lentini, Boccaccio, Petrarch, and Dante adopted this line, generally
using the eleven-syllable form (endecasillabo)[5] because most Italian
words have feminine endings.[6]:91 They often used a pattern where the
fourth syllable (typically accented) and the fifth (typically
unaccented) were part of the same word, the opposite of the Old French
line with its required pause after the fourth syllable. This pattern
came to be considered typically Italian.
Geoffrey Chaucer followed the Italian poets in his ten-syllable lines,
placing his pauses freely and often using the "Italian" pattern, but
he deviated from it by introducing a strong iambic rhythm and the
variations described above. This was an iambic pentameter.[6]:87–88
Chaucer's friend John Gower used a similar meter in his poem "In
Praise of Peace."[6]:91
Chaucer's meter depended on the pronunciation of final e:s that even
by his time were probably silent. It was soon forgotten that they were
ever pronounced, so later readers could not recognize his meter and
found his lines rough.[7] His Scottish followers of the century from
1420 to 1520—King James I, Robert Henryson, William Dunbar, and Gavin
Douglas—seem to have understood his meter (though final e's had long
been silent in Scots) and came close to it. Dunbar, in particular,
wrote poems in true iambic pentameter.[6]:105–112
In England, the poems of the 15th and early 16th centuries are in a
wide variety of meters. Thomas Wyatt, for example, often mixed iambic
pentameters with other lines of similar length but different rhythm.
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, on the other hand, used a strict ten-
syllable line that was similar to the Old Fench line, with its pause
after the fourth syllable, but typically had a regular iambic pattern,
and had many of the modern types of variation. Thomas Sackville, in
his two poems in the Mirror for Magistrates, used a similar line but
with few caesuras. The result was essentially the normal iambic
pentameter except for the avoidance of the "Italian" line. It was
Philip Sidney, apparently influenced by Italian poetry, who used large
numbers of "Italian" lines and thus is often considered to have
reinvented iambic pentameter in its final form. He was also more adept
than his predecessors in working polysyllabic words into the meter.
However, Sidney avoided feminine endings. They appear more often in
the work of such masters of iambic pentameter as Edmund Spenser and
Shakespeare.[6]:119–127
Iambic pentameter became the prevalent meter of English poetry. It was
estimated in 1971 that at least three-fourths of all English poetry
since Chaucer was in this meter.[8]
[edit] Controversy
Some scholars deny that this verse, at least in its most common and
literal definition, applies to Elizabethan poets; these include, in
addition to Robert Bridges (mentioned above), Leonardo Malcovati and
Bryan Beard.[citation needed]
[edit] Reading in drama
There is some debate over whether works such as Shakespeare's were
originally performed with the rhythm prominent, or whether the rhythm
was embedded in the patterns of contemporary speech. In either case,
when read aloud, such verse naturally follows a beat.
The rhythm of iambic pentameter was emphasised in Kenneth Branagh's
2000 production of Love's Labour's Lost, in a scene where the
protagonists tap-dance to the "Have at you now, affection's men-at-
arms" speech. In this case, each iamb is underscored with a flap step.
Peter G.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iambic_pentameter#Rhythmic_variation
*****If you want to know something about metre, don't go to Wikipedia --
that's amateur hour. Try the work of a published expert in the field:
Groves, Peter L., <Strange Music: The Metre of the English Heroic Line>, ELS
Monograph Series 74 (Victoria, B.C.: University of Victoria, 1998).
Groves, Peter L., "Shakespeare's Pentameter and the End of Editing",
<Shakespeare> (Journal of the British Shakespeare Association), 3:2 (2007),
126-42
Groves, Peter L., "Finding his Feet: Wyatt and the Founding of English
Metre", <Versification: An Electronic Journal of Literary Prosody> 4 (2005)
ISSN 1546-0401 (http://www.arsversificandi.net/current/groves.html )
Groves, Peter L., "'Knocking a verse on the head': towards a performance
grammar of English verse" in <Metrum, Rhythmus, Performanz>, ed. Christoph
K�per (Frankfurt-am-Main: Peter Lang, 2002), 215-228.
Groves, Peter L., "What Music Lies in the Cold Print": Larkin's Experimental
Metric", <Style> 35(2001):703-23
Groves, Peter L., "'Water from the Well': the Transmission and Reception of
Chaucer's Metric". <Parergon> n.s. 17 (2000): 51-73
Groves, Peter L., "The Chomsky of Grub Street: Edward Bysshe and the Triumph
of Classroom Metrics", <Versification: An Electronic Journal of Literary
Prosody> 3 (1999) ISSN 1546-0401
(http://www.arsversificandi.net/backissues/vol3/essays/groves.html)
Peter G.
book...@yahoo.com
<Monti...@REMOVETHISbigpond.com> wrote:
>
>"lackpurity" <lackp...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
>news:e5775266-2813-422c...@u16g2000pru.googlegroups.com...
>On Nov 18, 3:34 pm, "Peter G." <Montive...@REMOVETHISbigpond.com>
>wrote:
>> "lackpurity" <lackpur...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
>>
>> news:a0745171-30dc-49d5...@x25g2000prf.googlegroups.com...
>>
>>
>>
This got emended in the HLAS Tavern after being repeated drunkenly by
literary monkeys as follows, providentially fixing the meter PG
soberly objects to.
>>
>>
>> > Anti-Strats
>>
>> > Oxfordians [rescind the death] in Eddie's lifespan,
>> > For it's necessary to [Artfully] date [those later] plays[;]
>> [Plus] Eddie was a [farting] part of that Noble Clan;
>> > [and] Spenser had him under his perfect gaze.
>>
>> > Marlovians do think they are [shrewd] scholars[,]
>> > But, faking his [Fairy] death is not established[;]
>> > Thus, this [Faker] theory gets whoops and hollers!
>> > He could not remain, surely it was [devoutly] wished.
>>
>> > Baconians [prefer to] say he was Word-Master.
>> > No disputing that, but look at his [cryptic] style[;]
>> > He prophesied, like a [Elizabethan] Holy Pastor.
>> > His fame was prose, intended to beguile.
>>
>> > These [attribution] candidates get lots of attention,
>> > But, the [author's] canon was Strat Man's invention.
lackpurity
MM:
Thanks, very impressive. You're a PRO, no doubt.
Michael Martin
lackpurity
MM:
With all due respect to our scholar and author, Peter Groves, he
doesn't tell me what to write, nor how to write. I'll throw this out
for cogitation:
From onelook.com
Quick definitions (poetry)
noun: literature in metrical form
noun: any communication resembling poetry in beauty or the evocation
of feeling
MM:
All the members of Tavern HLAS can readily see that Groves is more
congruent with definition #1, while I'm more interested in the
communication of "feeling," and am more congruent with #2.
I think most of your great poets, Whitman, Dickinson, Shakespeare,
Donne, etc., often wrote congruent with #2. We might as well eat
adult food sometimes, and forego the baby food, IMO.
If Shakespeare had to spend an inordinate amount of time getting the
meter perfect, then the canon might not have been as large as it is.
Some sacrifices have to be made, sometimes. The great poets see the
end, and what they write is a means to an end. The greatest poets
have tried to convey meaning, not necessarily metrical perfection.
Michael Martin
Dominic Hughes
Do you have any communications resembling poetry (in beauty or the
evocation of feeling) that you'd be willing to share, because I
haven't seen anything like that from you yet?
Dom
lackpurity
MM:
Tell us, then, what attracts you? Would you like another birth in
this world?
Michael Martin
Dominic Hughes
That is not responsive to my post.
Do you have any communications that come even close to resembling
poetry (in beauty or the evocation of feeling) that you'd be willing
to share?
Dom
lackpurity
MM:
You are not responsive to my post. I've posted many thousands of
messages discussing mystic theory. That would appeal to a few, but
sincere seekers are as rare as hen's teeth. That's evocation of
feeling. Shakespeare didn't always stick to the "beauty" approach, as
even you must admit. He used contrasts, similar to Marlowe's Faust.
Sometimes, the Masters give us a bitter pill to swallow, but whether
we swallow it, or not, is up to us. Christ said, "Some seeds will
fall on barren ground." Timon of Athens is a good example of not
using the beauty approach. :-)
As I wrote in another message, sometimes we should forego the baby
food and try adult food.
Michael Martin
Dominic Hughes
You are still dodging my original question. Why? If you are, as you
claim, the reincarnation of William Shakespeare, I'd expect to see
that you possessed at least some of his poetic talent.
Do you have any communications that come even close to resembling
poetry (in beauty or the evocation of feeling) that you'd be willing
to share?
> As I wrote in another message, sometimes we should forego the baby
> food and try adult food.
You should probably buy more cat food.
Dom
spinoza1111
O "Lack", alack, don't cast pearls afore swine
Know you they will turn again and rend you?
At criticism they seem so dandy and so fine
But makarys they ain't they can fashion nothing new.
This is why they grin, this is why they gibber
This is why they shake their lips and faces make
They know when to poetry they go it is the merest slobber
Therefore they as English majors learned learning to fake.
They now specialize and now they analyze
Finding faults is their fondness, fools they fashion falsity:
Their register is the untuned horn of an unearned scorn
For creation, for makarys, and for anything resembling poetry.
Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck:
With them why do you even bother to truck?
But Peter has a point about the everyday vernacular
It is when we speak naturally we fall into the iambic
But we seldom speak naturally not even in our car
Most of the time our speech is less iambic and more priapic
Trying to get laid, or trying to get paid
Our everyday speech is something out of Mamet
We cannot summon pentameter us to aid
When we're constantly being interrupted or forced to sham it.
I shall now speak only in priapic pentameter
And I trust it will get me lucky
If not with Persephone then maybe with Demeter
I will be able to get some dat **********
That will be a satisfaction most fervent to my wish
It is to me like water is to the typical fish.
What lacks the loftiness of Shakespeare's plays?
A broken Coriolanus who dreams he is a man?
Or the merest pedant , who quivering says
Dat is not an iambic pentameter: it doesn't scan.
Now Peter is right in a sense, there's a recompense there,
Shakespeare learned more in school than most of us,
Figures of speech, and metre, allit and rime all square
He learnt it all, from a teacher who made a fuss.
But this merely brought that which is within the meanest
And that is that we could all speak in verse
Were it not for scolding voices and the vices of the squeamish
Who have learned to "shut the fuck up", or worse.
A universal silence and terror now reigns
On the mountains, the sea and on the plains.
22 Nov 2009 Edward G. Nilges. Moral rights have been asserted, so
shove it.
spinoza1111
You blast this beastly bibliography
Most crossly can you come carrying carts of books
But when we examine each volume heavy
We find something strange, that merits several looks.
My goodness this is but one man, alone
Should he be trusted? Where's his team?
In such monologues there's always the scent of phon
Ey learning. Autodidacticism is suspect, and makes us scream.
Likewise this monotony of bibliography,
This pile of books and Feuilletons
All with one name...it shows no humility
It is music with too few, too few tones.
Next time post less out of overweening vanity
And post with vanity's angel, she who sings more sweetly.
>
> Groves, Peter L., "Shakespeare's Pentameter and the End of Editing",
> <Shakespeare> (Journal of the British Shakespeare Association), 3:2 (2007),
> 126-42
>
> Groves, Peter L., "Finding his Feet: Wyatt and the Founding of English
> Metre", <Versification: An Electronic Journal of Literary Prosody> 4 (2005)
> ISSN 1546-0401 (http://www.arsversificandi.net/current/groves.html)
>
> Groves, Peter L., "'Knocking a verse on the head': towards a performance
> grammar of English verse" in <Metrum, Rhythmus, Performanz>, ed. Christoph
> Küper (Frankfurt-am-Main: Peter Lang, 2002), 215-228.
>
> Groves, Peter L., "What Music Lies in the Cold Print": Larkin's Experimental
> Metric", <Style> 35(2001):703-23
>
> Groves, Peter L., "'Water from the Well': the Transmission and Reception of
> Chaucer's Metric". <Parergon> n.s. 17 (2000): 51-73
>
> Groves, Peter L., "The Chomsky of Grub Street: Edward Bysshe and the Triumph
> of Classroom Metrics", <Versification: An Electronic Journal of Literary
> Prosody> 3 (1999) ISSN 1546-0401
> (http://www.arsversificandi.net/backissues/vol3/essays/groves.html)
>
> Peter G.- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -
lackpurity
MM:
Thanks, Spinoza. Nice work. I know you put a lot of time and effort
into it.
I'm just passing time here at HLAS. I don't like to read how skewed
the concepts of Shakespeare have become, nor do I appreciate the
repeated attempts to rip him off. :-( For example, I figure if I
post something like 14% or 15% of the posts, then the skewed concepts
are diluted, and instead of comprising 100%, they only total 86% or
85%. I'm just trying to do a little balancing, regarding
Shakespearean concepts. I know that I'm not the only Stratfordian
here, but my concept of Shakespeare is unique, as you know, even among
Stratfordians.
Michael Martin
lackpurity
MM:
I agree that there's not much humility there, but I'm not going to
make that an issue. I'll respect his scholarship.
> It is music with too few, too few tones.
> Next time post less out of overweening vanity
> And post with vanity's angel, she who sings more sweetly.
MM:
It's like the definition of poetry, i.e. the evocation of feeling.
Love works wonders. Learning is fine, but we need to awaken the
higher powers within us.
Michael Martin
> > Groves, Peter L., "Shakespeare's Pentameter and the End of Editing",
> > <Shakespeare> (Journal of the British Shakespeare Association), 3:2 (2007),
> > 126-42
>
> > Groves, Peter L., "Finding his Feet: Wyatt and the Founding of English
> > Metre", <Versification: An Electronic Journal of Literary Prosody> 4 (2005)
> > ISSN 1546-0401 (http://www.arsversificandi.net/current/groves.html)
>
> > Groves, Peter L., "'Knocking a verse on the head': towards a performance
> > grammar of English verse" in <Metrum, Rhythmus, Performanz>, ed. Christoph
> > K�per (Frankfurt-am-Main: Peter Lang, 2002), 215-228.
>
> > Groves, Peter L., "What Music Lies in the Cold Print": Larkin's Experimental
> > Metric", <Style> 35(2001):703-23
>
> > Groves, Peter L., "'Water from the Well': the Transmission and Reception of
> > Chaucer's Metric". <Parergon> n.s. 17 (2000): 51-73
>
> > Groves, Peter L., "The Chomsky of Grub Street: Edward Bysshe and the Triumph
> > of Classroom Metrics", <Versification: An Electronic Journal of Literary
> > Prosody> 3 (1999) ISSN 1546-0401
> > (http://www.arsversificandi.net/backissues/vol3/essays/groves.html)
>
> > Peter G.- Hide quoted text -
>
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
I spent no time and made no labor'd effort;
I merely listen'd to my ling'ring Muse
Whilst she in skimpy Ling'rie did with me disport
Whose only object is thy amuse.
Once you get the beat and once you get the rhythm
'Tis a bagatello and 'tis a feu de joie
Indeed 'tis been my firm decision
To henceforth in sonnet to here reploie.
This oughta show the shoving shit shit shovelers
As well as the puling published prosy pedants
Who da boss here and who da groveler
A human bean, a Mr Bean, beset by little ants.
You called for the spirit, the angel of poetry
And here I is, it is I, and my fair muse, Kate Calliope.
>
> I'm just passing time here at HLAS. I don't like to read how skewed
> the concepts of Shakespeare have become, nor do I appreciate the
> repeated attempts to rip him off. :-( For example, I figure if I
> post something like 14% or 15% of the posts, then the skewed concepts
> are diluted, and instead of comprising 100%, they only total 86% or
> 85%. I'm just trying to do a little balancing, regarding
> Shakespearean concepts. I know that I'm not the only Stratfordian
> here, but my concept of Shakespeare is unique, as you know, even among
> Stratfordians.
>
> Michael Martin- Hide quoted text -
lackpurity
MM:
Maybe you were a poet in the last life?
> I merely listen'd to my ling'ring Muse
> Whilst she in skimpy Ling'rie did with me disport
> Whose only object is thy amuse.
MM:
Hmmmmm. I guess she knew an Alpha Male Poet, when she saw one! LOL
> Once you get the beat and once you get the rhythm
> 'Tis a bagatello and 'tis a feu de joie
> Indeed 'tis been my firm decision
> To henceforth in sonnet to here reploie.
MM:
Sounds like a great idea.
> This oughta show the shoving shit shit shovelers
> As well as the puling published prosy pedants
> Who da boss here and who da groveler
> A human bean, a Mr Bean, beset by little ants.
MM:
I'm all for culling out the chaff from the wheat.
> You called for the spirit, the angel of poetry
> And here I is, it is I, and my fair muse, Kate Calliope.
MM:
Okay, glad to see your form has appeared once again on HLAS. Let's
see some truth-revealing sonnets from you.
Michael Martin
> > I'm just passing time here at HLAS. �I don't like to read how skewed
> > the concepts of Shakespeare have become, nor do I appreciate the
> > repeated attempts to rip him off. �:-( �For example, I figure if I
> > post something like 14% or 15% of the posts, then the skewed concepts
> > are diluted, and instead of comprising 100%, they only total 86% or
> > 85%. �I'm just trying to do a little balancing, regarding
> > Shakespearean concepts. �I know that I'm not the only Stratfordian
> > here, but my concept of Shakespeare is unique, as you know, even among
> > Stratfordians.
>
> > Michael Martin- Hide quoted text -
>
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
Evok'd be feeling? What way? From thee in what way, and how
Shall we get blood from a rock, bread, from stones
Or water from a wound? Now is always, now,
And now, we are in valley of dry bones.
Dry these bones they will not live and they are for
The sarcastic sarcophagus or eater of the dead,
Their polished beauty not for thee...it would bore
It would irritate, it would remain a book unread.
I'd rather you should go see what the hell is on TV
Surf the remote remotely, abstractedly and in anger:
Look back look forward look around to see
Nowt but shit , that's the hazard, that's the danger.
Turd calls to turd and is unheard:
It searches for the siftings of an unclean bird.
Edward G. Nilges 22 Nov 22 2009 Moral rights asserted, so watch your
ass.
>
> > As I wrote in another message, sometimes we should forego the baby
> > food and try adult food.
>
> You should probably buy more cat food.
>
> Dom- Hide quoted text -
Dominic Hughes
A shade returns once more unto this land.
Poor spin, struts in, and rears his empty head,
Butts in, opining on what he cannot understand,
Trying out his hand where Michael fears to tread.
This shade had banished us, as Coriolanus had once banished Rome,
But now returns, no promise can he keep.
He pretends to great offense, while making little sense,
It’s obvious there’s naught beneath his polished dome,
And shallow is what he considers deep.
Turd calls to turd? Quite right, as Michael calls for spin,
And Michael’s dirty little parrot answers back,
A sad refrain.
One turd killed all the cats, the other racked and killed
His feeble brain.
A purveyor of such shit is little parrot spin,
He spews it forth with every single word,
And so he struts in, little parrot spin,
Every thought and word a turd,
Shown in his wide shit-eating grin.
Dom
spinoza1111
Alas poor Dominic, he's gone to hell,
He runs out of steam by "a sad refrain",
And like an ape in the zoo we know so well
He can only throw shite back in hopes of stain.
Phrases like "a shit eating grin" are most feeble
A way to end a poem Phillipic
Neither image nor metaphor as is needful
They self-refer to the poet non-Homeric
Showing all that it is he of whom the shit is full.
Your feeble rage is ugly, you hurl yourself against the bars
Chattering madly and aping sadly, you have this contest lost
Next time think before joining one of these poetic wars
Lest you again be on my barbed with, most tossed.
Dominic, here's a dollar, buy a clue
What you posted was not a sonnet, and untrue.
spinoza1111
You are not worth the promising, Dominic
You are not worth a promise keeping.
You are not worth this poetic trick
Which is sure to have you weeping.
I leave for convenience and reasons of state
I return when it amuses me to do so:
I leave because to waste time I hate
I return when I need a chuckle and an ho, ho ho.
Deal with it, chump, brood on it, lump:
Taste the sweetness of contempt
I have returned to make you jump
Should you bad verse again attempt.
I am your worst nightmare, you'll never me ride
Your Mither's calling, hie the home to their hide.
spinoza1111
spinoza1111
Even have the basic talent, or the facility
With words you are the merest cunt
Which is my "term of art" for "lack of ability".
Your pseudo sonnet, it is a psonnet
In which the p is silent along with any sense
It is written only to make a rhyme
It is footless and foolish and a pure expence
Of spirit in a waste of shame.
Search oh search your online rhymonary
I shall chortle at your lack of fame:
For it is to me one and the same
With shame, go haem, to thy old Mither:
On the vine has your effort been seen to wither.
spinoza1111
spinoza1111
Dominic Hughes
> You are not worth the promising, Dominic
> You are not worth a promise keeping.
> You are not worth this poetic trick
> Which is sure to have you weeping.
Wrong, as usual, you little parrot;
by the way, your verse has little, if any, merit.
The only thing here that might cause me to weep,
Is the laughter engendered by your "poetry",
You little parrot creep.
> I leave for convenience and reasons of state
> I return when it amuses me to do so:
> I leave because to waste time I hate
Nice construction there...your poetry is as bad,
as your friend lacksanity is mad.
> I return when I need a chuckle and an ho, ho ho.
> Deal with it, chump, brood on it, lump:
I'm not brooding on anything, spin,
but look at the frenzied state that you're in.
Four crappy poems (and counting?) in reply,
To my one but brief poetic try.
> Taste the sweetness of contempt
> I have returned to make you jump
I'm sitting down, and laughing at your lack of wit.
You have returned, and now you're tasting shit.
> Should you bad verse again attempt.
> I am your worst nightmare, you'll never me ride
Some more of spin's sophomoric tries at verse.
Your poems or your delusions, I can't tell which are worse.
> Your Mither's calling, hie the home to their [sic] hide.
That's the best effort you can make?
Dom
spinoza1111
...
To call a dog a cat, to call "this" a "that"
Is not to make it into a whatcha callit
It is to do but diddly "squat"
To be, and not-not to be, an fucking idiot.
To call my poems in any way deficient
In your mess of verse that's not in the sonnet form
Is at best only to be very fast and efficient
At proving to the world that thou art larden turd and worm.
Satirical Marysas blows breathless on bagpipe bad
And is beaten for his pains, he is not paid:
He is sad but we are glad
And unfraid of you while you are flayed.
Give up the attempt, oh sottish sot of all
Once again this poet heres thy Mither call.
Edward G. Nilges 23 Nov 2009: Moral rights have been asserted, so blow
me.
spinoza1111
> On Nov 22, 10:08 pm,spinoza1111<spinoza1...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>
> > You are not worth the promising, Dominic
> > You are not worth a promise keeping.
> > You are not worth this poetic trick
> > Which is sure to have you weeping.
>
> Wrong, as usual, you little parrot;
> by the way, your verse has little, if any, merit.
> The only thing here that might cause me to weep,
> Is the laughter engendered by your "poetry",
> You little parrot creep.
Repeating a metaphor twice? How nice
It shows your nincompoopish incompetence
It shows you're running out of fuel, fool unwise
It shows you have no brains, no cunning and no sense.
And you turn around around and around
In a narrowing, not widening gyre
When to shit you return, liking the sound
You're just preparing your scribbles for the fire.
"You little parrot creep?" You're putting me, to sleep
This is an insult adolescent
It's obvious that you've run out of ideas, and weep
Having lost the sense, the trail, and scent.
Dominic, these poems of yours are fugues most horrible
Flights from the reality that you can't write above the level
terrible.
>
> > I leave for convenience and reasons of state
> > I return when it amuses me to do so:
> > I leave because to waste time I hate
>
> Nice construction there...your poetry is as bad,
> as your friend lacksanity is mad.
>
> > I return when I need a chuckle and an ho, ho ho.
> > Deal with it, chump, brood on it, lump:
>
> I'm not brooding on anything, spin,
> but look at the frenzied state that you're in.
> Four crappy poems (and counting?) in reply,
> To my one but brief poetic try.
Oh why maudit do you even essay to try?
Your squibs escape you into thin air
They fly not high and then they die
They've not even the sonnet form so fair.
You've regressed to doggerel childish couplets
The quatrain it makes your brain to strain
Because you can only part of the time rhyme rhymelets
And cannot hold a thought four lines entrain.
You're losing this fight you lost it long ago
Thus ever to Internet thugs who like to assault people
They shall on my sword struggle, being my foe
They are not men they are indeed sheeple.
Down dog down and fiends, gather around
Drag him from Parnassus we like not his sound.
spinoza1111
>
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>
> - Show quoted text -
Shall I compare thee to a big fat dork?
Thou art more stupid and an idiot
Rough clods do sometimes have a clue
But clue you have most definitely not.
Sometime the dullest person wises up
And gets a line or two of poetry right
And even you might have a clue
When hell freezeth over or day becomes night.
But thy eternal night and fog won't lift
Nor win possession of a booby prize;
Nor shall you brag thou canst write a thing,
When in my lines time mockst thy poor tries:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and makes a fool of thee.
Edward G. Nilges 23 Nov Moral rights have been asserted, so there.
Take that.
Dominic Hughes
swedenborgian
> > > > > Your fucking hostility and hatred is even more off-topic. Any time you
> > > > > make the defects of another person your main theme as opposed to
> > > > > constructing refutations of his views, you're off-topic.
> > > > I'm not hostile and I don't hate. You, on the other hand, appear to
> > > > have some issues in this area. MM makes himself the topic, something
> > > > that you don't seem to want, or be able, to understand. He sincerely
> > > > believes that he is the reincarnation of Shakespeare and that he
> > > > derives superior knowledge about Shakespeare from the fact hat he once
> > > > was Shakespeare. He has said that rejection of his beliefs as to
> > > > Shakespeare is rejection of him. If you had participated in HLAS, you
> > > > would have seen that I have constructed refutations of MM's views
> > > > based on the Shakespeare texts themselves. Instead, you'd rather jump
> > > > in here half-cocked like the drama queen that you are.
> > > > Dom
> > > 1. What's evil about being off-topic?
> > > 2. Who gets to decide what off-topic, what not?
> > > 3. Why is it off-topic to discuss the sanity of
> > > someone discussing Shakespeare at a Shakespeare forum?
> > > --Bob G.- Hide quoted text -
> > > - Show quoted text -
> > Since MM claims to have been Shakespeare, and to be able to explain
> > Shakespeare's meaning and his intent as a direct result of this
> > "special source" of knowledge, it is not off-topic to discuss his
> > sanity.
> It IS. The only fit subject is whether he's produced valid arguments.
MM:
That is not a fit subject, either. Don't you become an enabler,
Spinoza. This group has plenty of them, already.
Some things are not easily argued. That would include spiritual
truths. This world has become very opinionated with so many
religions. Each one presents an argument. Even atheists, agnostics,
and non-religious present arguments. They all think they have the
best argument, unless some of them are brave enough to admit that
they
haven't a clue about spirituality.
> I've addressed this and shown that he hasn't in some instances,
> because his mysticism reifies concepts.
MM:
Spinoza, are you tiptoeing through the tulips? Every Saint or
Perfect
Master has reified concepts of Past Saints and Masters. That doesn't
mean those concepts can be argued, like throwing a bone to the dogs.
Give me a break. One has to develop his own capacity to see and hear
the spiritual truths. This was the main topic of Shakespeare's canon
and sonnets, BTW.
If you think TRUTH ought to come out, as a new model car, every year,
then I disagree with that. Truth is eternal. Shakespeare laid
foundations for eternity, and he bore the canopy, as the truth-
teller.
As Shakespeare did, I'm just discussing truths. People can accept
them, or reject them. They are not for arguing, I'd say. Faith is
the first step. If we have faith in a Master's teachings, then we
can
prove them by meditation.
The True Home is for people who deserve it. It is not going to be
brought down to earth-level, just for the sake of proving arguments.
So many Saints have come and gone, and that has never happened.
There
have been signs and wonders, however.
> The parable of the Cave applies. He's been dazzled by a vision (which
> could be false) but you Trogdolytes can't judge him.
MM:
Why do you take the negative? They could be true, from your POV,
since you don't know.
Michael Martin
>Alas poor Dominic, he's gone to hell,
This is very poor. You are using the word “hell” just to make a simple
rhyme, and it has no relationship to anything in the rest of the poem.
>He runs out of steam by "a sad refrain",
>And like an ape in the zoo we know so well
What zoo do we know so well.
>He can only throw shite back in hopes of stain.
You’re the one who first shit in this thread,
Yet now you run and condemn the trick.
Turds flowed from the mouth in your febrile head,
Coprophagia could be what is making you so sick.
>Phrases like "a shit eating grin" are most feeble
Not in this instance. Not that you would be able to discern it, but,
in this instance, the phrase “shit-eating grin” is meant to be taken
literally, along with its usual usage of meaning a smug, self-
confident expression indicating a ridiculously arrogant sureness.
>A way to end a poem Phillipic
A fine way to do so, if I do say so myself – why not use insulting
language in response to insulting language?
>Neither image nor metaphor as is needful
The image is quite appropriate to you in both its senses, since you
are a smug and arrogant person, and you came into this thread with
turds dripping from your mouth.
>They self-refer to the poet non-Homeric
This is simply nonsense here, meant only to supply a rhyme, but
obviously making no sense.
>Showing all that it is he of whom the shit is full.
This is laughably bad. The shit is full of he?
>Your feeble rage is ugly, you hurl yourself against the bars
>Chattering madly and aping sadly, you have this contest lost
>Next time think before joining one of these poetic wars
>Lest you again be on my barbed with [sic], most tossed.
>Dominic, here's a dollar, buy a clue
>What you posted was not a sonnet, and untrue.
What I posted was not meant to be a sonnet, and I never said that it
was. If you have a dollar you might consider investing it in ‘Poetry
for Dummies’ – that would be the level that would be appropriate for
you.
>You are not worth the promising, Dominic
>You are not worth a promise keeping.
>You are not worth this poetic trick
>Which is sure to have you weeping.
>I leave for convenience and reasons of state
> I return when it amuses me to do so:
>I leave because to waste time I hate
>I return when I need a chuckle and an ho, ho ho.
>Deal with it, chump, brood on it, lump:
>Taste the sweetness of contempt
>I have returned to make you jump
>Should you bad verse again attempt.
>I am your worst nightmare, you'll never me ride
>Your Mither's calling, hie the home to their hide.
>Oh Dominic, don't even try: you don't
>Even have the basic talent, or the facility
>With words you are the merest cunt
That’s supposed to be a rhyme? I can understand that you’ve gotten
sand in your vagina, but can’t you do any better than this?
.
>Which is my "term of art" for "lack of ability".
Who cares about your “terms of art”,
When your poor “poems” are let loose to beg.
You wouldn’t know art from a mushrooming fart,
Or the shit that is flowing down your leg.
>Your pseudo sonnet, it is a psonnet
>In which the p is silent along with any sense
It made sense to you – enough sense that it caused you to let loose
with great streams of turds posing as poetry, and claiming to smell as
sweet.
>It is written only to make a rhyme
No. It was written to reply to your idiocy, and to compel you to
respond with even more pathetic idiocy and even worse poetic efforts.
You jumped when I called and performed quite as expected. Thanks
little parrot spin.
>It is footless and foolish and a pure expence [sic]
>Of spirit in a waste of shame.
Talk about an expense of spirit in a waste of shame, you’ve responded
six times to my game.
You’re the one who is jumping, little parrot spin.
>Search oh search your online rhymonary
>I shall chortle at your lack of fame:
Chortle away. Fame is a loser’s game.
>For it is to me one and the same
>With shame, go haem, to thy old Mither:
Really? That’s the best you’ve got. Those mama snaps wouldn’t pass
muster on any street corner in America. You’re the one who should be
ashamed.
>On the vine has your effort been seen to wither.
This is quite sad. Do you tell your friends (if you have any) that
you write “poems”?
Poor little spin, please quit while your behind,
Sinks ever deeper in a hole of my design.
You remain a little parrot with, at best, one little trick,
And that’s not to mention that you have a little…birdbrain.
Your impotent rage is demonstrated by your inept attempts at poetry,
and, even more so, by your need to post your crude and feeble tripe
multiple times – as if repetition will somehow make it come off
better. It is execrable. Even the dog wouldn’t eat you vomitous
doggerel.
spinoza1111
>
> This is very poor. You are using the word “hell” just to make a simple
> rhyme, and it has no relationship to anything in the rest of the poem.
If you can't write a bloody sonnet admit it
Don't become a critic, it's a dodge:
Just leave the field in shame, and quit it
Go back to your pathetic little lodge.
As to rhyming for convenience, some of us don't strain:
Humorous verse is full of stunts,
And rhyming that's intended to cause pain
Especially to humor-challenged cunts.
The fact is at this level you cannot write
And the fact is you attacked a fellow human being
In my book this gives me an unalienable right
To poetically take aim at your old bean.
If you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen
This discussion you for certain ain't enrichin'.
>
> >He runs out of steam by "a sad refrain",
> >And like an ape in the zoo we know so well
>
> What zoo do we know so well.
The zoo of hell do we know well, so well:
It's full of interesting and curious beasts
Hourly ringeth there a solemn knell
For the beasts to sing of that which feasts.
That which lurches to be born again
On a darkling plain, to a nighted city
Which hath the innocent name of Bethlehem
The one in Pennsylvania, more's the pity.
You log on here to insult your fellow man
Losing even the name of man in this crusade
Trogdolyte you become and an also-ran
A squeaking gibbering Internet shade.
Meet the beast at the feast tomorrow at midnight
It is sure to scare you, and may even set you right.
>
> >He can only throw shite back in hopes of stain.
>
> You’re the one who first shit in this thread,
> Yet now you run and condemn the trick.
> Turds flowed from the mouth in your febrile head,
> Coprophagia could be what is making you so sick.
My we are a Johnnie one-note flute
My we can't get off the subject
Play your pipe: tootly toot
You obsessions are naught but abject.
Your anger's showing, indeed, it's glowing
Like a lump of coal in your Christmas puddin':
But it's dragon's teeth that you are sowing
And a whirlwind you'll be sure a-reapin'.
Post on little man my reply shall be
Better than thee can hope to fashion
For I am the spirit of punitive poetry
Come to be thy condign thrashing.
You're asking for trouble, and you're gonna get it:
Humiliation for sure, on that the farm? You can bet it.
>
> >Phrases like "a shit eating grin" are most feeble
>
> Not in this instance. Not that you would be able to discern it, but,
> in this instance, the phrase “shit-eating grin” is meant to be taken
> literally, along with its usual usage of meaning a smug, self-
> confident expression indicating a ridiculously arrogant sureness.
He never met a cliche he didn't like
The little man inside your head.
He finds them on the Hackney Pike
And he is like to hug them in his bed.
"A shit-eating grin" is an ugly American phrase
A rural phrase, a yokel's locution:
It hath no beauty and it doth deface
My replies, so full of class and education.
But when in Rome we do as Romans do
And after they dined, 'tis said by the scholar
They'd their Falernian and their dinner would spew
In the Tiber down by a darkling holler.
To sup with the devil one needs a long spoon
To dine with a fool, all it takes is a full moon.
>
> >A way to end a poem Phillipic
>
> A fine way to do so, if I do say so myself – why not use insulting
> language in response to insulting language?
A fine thing to say, that you're "insulted"
My goodness, you crawled in here
And it's Michael you then assaulted
Trying to spread bile, lies, hatred and fear.
Hoist you were by your own petard:
Now dangle up there, I'll skip the obvious rhyme,
And instead say that it must be hard
To be hoisten'd up there for so long a time.
The obvious rhyme was "retard" but I'll show some sympathy
Some courtesy and some restraint,
Giving all my well-learned politesse and also some empathy
I'll not the mentally challenged so attaint!
You have no dignity to be insulted
So show patience with the humiliation that's resulted.
>
> >Neither image nor metaphor as is needful
>
> The image is quite appropriate to you in both its senses, since you
> are a smug and arrogant person, and you came into this thread with
> turds dripping from your mouth.
My goodness he's still fixilated
On his favorite subject, which is shite
I'd hasard chap is pixilated
Dead drunk: in his head he ain't right!.
I came into this thread dropping more words
That occur in your child's lexicon
Your own responses were for the birds
You don't belong on Parnassus nor on Helicon.
This bugged you it bewitched you
And now through the swamp you go
Pursuing a sprite who of old hath knew
How to get you to shoot yourself in the toe.
This contest is most droll, and amusing
It's also one that you are assuredly losing.
>
> >They self-refer to the poet non-Homeric
>
> This is simply nonsense here, meant only to supply a rhyme, but
> obviously making no sense.
My goodness you have found a new occupation
Having failed at the sonnety game
"Literary critic" is your self-appointed station
But you remain most hopelessly lame.
Yes, they self-refer, I would prefer
To say to you you're no Homer
Even if to Simpson I refer,
Instead at best you're Private Pyle, comma Gomer.
And I am your top sergeant, major,
Come to square you away by precept:
I'll thank ye to exchange, to trade your
License poetic for anything save money except.
My goodness this is shootin' fish in a barrel
But much more fun and quite a rare haul!
There was a homunculus named Hughes
Prone to fits, starts, brain farts and fugues
He flew away one day
And away did he stay
And we certainly applauded that news.
>
>
>
> >It is
>
> ...
>
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Dominic Hughes
> Dominic writes
>
> > This is very poor. You are using the word “hell” just to make a simple
> > rhyme, and it has no relationship to anything in the rest of the poem.
>
> If you can't write a bloody sonnet admit it
> Don't become a critic, it's a dodge:
No, it isn't a dodge. Your attempts at poetry show that you are not
talented in that area.
> Just leave the field in shame, and quit it
> Go back to your pathetic little lodge.
My pathetic little lodge is a home at the beach that is appraised at
over a million dollars. Where do you live in Hong Kong?
> As to rhyming for convenience, some of us don't strain:
You certainly do, and the strain is quite obvious.
> Humorous verse is full of stunts,
> And rhyming that's intended to cause pain
You're failing in that regard. In fact, I'm getting quite a laugh out
of how easy it is to get you enraged.
> Especially to humor-challenged cunts.
You're repeating yourself, and you are not at all humorous. Your
bloated opinion of your self is funny but not intentional.
Repeating yourself? How nice. It shows your nincompoopish
incompetence. It shows you're running out of fuel. It shows you have
no brains, no cunning and no sense.
> The fact is at this level you cannot write
> And the fact is you attacked a fellow human being
I should hope I don't write at your piss-poor level, little parrot
spin.
Where did I attack a fellow human being. I merely asked Michael
Martin to share an example of some of his poetry that evoked beauty.
If he is the reincarnation of Shakespeare, as he claims (and as you
have steadfastly refused to recognize) then I have the right to ask
whether or not he possesses any of the talents that Shakespeare
possessed. There was no attack involved at all, merely a question.
Michael apparently did not wish to share, and I did not press him any
further on the subject.
> In my book this gives me an unalienable right
I'm sure it does. Of course, you consider yourself to be some knight
errant riding in to save the day. Your delusions of grandeur are
plain for all to see.
> To poetically take aim at your old bean.
> If you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen
> This discussion you for certain ain't enrichin'.
If you think your attempts at poetry have anything to do with
enrichment you are barking mad. I pull the string and you jump.
> > >He runs out of steam by "a sad refrain",
> > >And like an ape in the zoo we know so well
>
> > What zoo do we know so well.
>
> The zoo of hell do we know well, so well:
> It's full of interesting and curious beasts
> Hourly ringeth there a solemn knell
> For the beasts to sing of that which feasts.
> That which lurches to be born again
> On a darkling plain, to a nighted city
> Which hath the innocent name of Bethlehem
> The one in Pennsylvania, more's the pity.
> You log on here to insult your fellow man
> Losing even the name of man in this crusade
> Trogdolyte you become and an also-ran
> A squeaking gibbering Internet shade.
> Meet the beast at the feast tomorrow at midnight
> It is sure to scare you, and may even set you right.
Yawn. More puerile garbage. I pull the string and the little parrot
spin attempts to sing. But he can only squawk. Beware, you are a
parrot, and I am more a hawk.
> > >He can only throw shite back in hopes of stain.
>
> > You’re the one who first shit in this thread,
> > Yet now you run and condemn the trick.
> > Turds flowed from the mouth in your febrile head,
> > Coprophagia could be what is making you so sick.
>
> My we are a Johnnie one-note flute
> My we can't get off the subject
> Play your pipe: tootly toot
> You obsessions are naught but abject.
You're the one who first flung the stuff. Now it seems you can't
handle it when it is thrown back in your face (from which it first
emanated). Your rage is quite apparent for all to see. It is causing
you to reply every time I pull your strings, you little puppet parrot.
> Your anger's showing, indeed, it's glowing
Not at all. I am having quite a bit of fun at your expense.
> Like a lump of coal in your Christmas puddin':
> But it's dragon's teeth that you are sowing
> And a whirlwind you'll be sure a-reapin'.
This is really dreadful. I understand that you're doing this on the
fly (like the tiny little parrot that your are) but this is
horrendous.
> Post on little man my reply shall be
> Better than thee can hope to fashion
> For I am the spirit of punitive poetry
> Come to be thy condign thrashing.
> You're asking for trouble, and you're gonna get it:
> Humiliation for sure, on that the farm? You can bet it.
I doubt that I'll be getting any trouble from the likes of you. Your
impotent threats are as funny as your flaccid poems.
> > >Phrases like "a shit eating grin" are most feeble
>
> > Not in this instance. Not that you would be able to discern it, but,
> > in this instance, the phrase “shit-eating grin” is meant to be taken
> > literally, along with its usual usage of meaning a smug, self-
> > confident expression indicating a ridiculously arrogant sureness.
>
> He never met a cliche he didn't like
My use of the phrase was not a cliche, as I've already demonstrated.
I don't expect you'll understand.
> The little man inside your head.
> He finds them on the Hackney Pike
> And he is like to hug them in his bed.
> "A shit-eating grin" is an ugly American phrase
> A rural phrase, a yokel's locution:
> It hath no beauty and it doth deface
> My replies, so full of class and education.
Says the person who first flung turds in this thread.
> But when in Rome we do as Romans do
Speaking of cliches...
> And after they dined, 'tis said by the scholar
> They'd their Falernian and their dinner would spew
> In the Tiber down by a darkling holler.
> To sup with the devil one needs a long spoon
> To dine with a fool, all it takes is a full moon.
I don't usually dine with fools, but I'm having a bit of fun right now
dining on your anger.
> > >A way to end a poem Phillipic
>
> > A fine way to do so, if I do say so myself – why not use insulting
> > language in response to insulting language?
>
> A fine thing to say, that you're "insulted"
I didn't say that I was insulted. Can't you read with anything
approaching comprehension?
> My goodness, you crawled in here
> And it's Michael you then assaulted
Assaulted? More ridiculous assumptions from you. You should really
learn to read.
> Trying to spread bile, lies, hatred and fear.
What lies, bile, hatred or fear did I attempt to spread. You're
engaging in projection.
> Hoist you were by your own petard:
> Now dangle up there, I'll skip the obvious rhyme,
You're the one dancing every time I move the strings.
> And instead say that it must be hard
> To be hoisten'd up there for so long a time.
> The obvious rhyme was "retard" but I'll show some sympathy
> Some courtesy and some restraint,
> Giving all my well-learned politesse and also some empathy
Now I get it. When you said that you made classical allusions you
were talking about classic rock. How sad.
> I'll not the mentally challenged so attaint!
> You have no dignity to be insulted
> So show patience with the humiliation that's resulted.
Your high opinion of yourself is not warranted. The only one
humiliating himself here is you, demonstrating your uncontrollable
anger, whcich compels you to respond every time I pull your string.
> > >Neither image nor metaphor as is needful
>
> > The image is quite appropriate to you in both its senses, since you
> > are a smug and arrogant person, and you came into this thread with
> > turds dripping from your mouth.
>
> My goodness he's still fixilated
> On his favorite subject, which is shite
You're the one who brought the subject up. Is your short-term memory
failing you? The fact that I comment upon your reference does not
mean that I am fixated on anything at all.
> I'd hasard chap is pixilated
> Dead drunk: in his head he ain't right!.
> I came into this thread dropping more words
> That occur in your child's lexicon
> Your own responses were for the birds
> You don't belong on Parnassus nor on Helicon.
> This bugged you it bewitched you
> And now through the swamp you go
> Pursuing a sprite who of old hath knew
> How to get you to shoot yourself in the toe.
> This contest is most droll, and amusing
> It's also one that you are assuredly losing.
The fact that you think I am "losing" something is quite pathetic. It
illustrates how deluded you are in thinking that internet flame wars
are some type of battle and that you are the champion of the
oppressed. You poetry stinks. Every time you post some more of your
doggerel, I get a good laugh at it. Please continue in this vein,
bleeding your anger onto the page, ultimately displaying how anemic
your work is.
> > >They self-refer to the poet non-Homeric
>
> > This is simply nonsense here, meant only to supply a rhyme, but
> > obviously making no sense.
>
> My goodness you have found a new occupation
> Having failed at the sonnety game
I haven't attempted the "sonnety" game. I did post a poem that has
got your knickers in a twist, so, in that, I accomplished what I
wanted and was successful. You jumped when I pulled your string, and
you're still jumping. Jump some more.
> "Literary critic" is your self-appointed station
> But you remain most hopelessly lame.
> Yes, they self-refer, I would prefer
> To say to you you're no Homer
> Even if to Simpson I refer,
> Instead at best you're Private Pyle, comma Gomer.
> And I am your top sergeant, major,
> Come to square you away by precept:
> I'll thank ye to exchange, to trade your
> License poetic for anything save money except.
> My goodness this is shootin' fish in a barrel
> But much more fun and quite a rare haul!
Hilariously bad. Your efforts get worse as we go along. Please jump
some more. I'm sure you will. You can't stop once you get started,
as you have no self-control.
By the way, you snipped the following without showing that you had:
*****
>Showing all that it is he of whom the shit is full.
This is laughably bad. The shit is full of he?
*****
Were you that embarrassed at your inability to write coherently?
"We"? Your delusions are made manifest.
*****
When poor spin drops in here to shake his spear,
His purpose appears far from serious.
He drips with hate, and presumes to sow fear,
Coprophagia makes him delirious.
Spin styles himself as champ of the underdogs.
He suffers delusions of grandiosity.
Through internet battles this poor poser slogs,
Leaving a trail of trite pomposity.
Spin presents a common internet type,
Alone at his desk, a keyboard commando.
Pretender to courage, a bag of self-hype,
The very twin of Braggadochio.
Oh spin, your lance hangs limp, a poor and paltry stick.
Your flaccid tool can't inflict a wound, any deeper than a bloodless
prick.
*****
Poor little spin, please quit while your behind,
Sinks ever deeper in a hole of my design.
You remain a little parrot with, at best, one little trick,
And that’s not to mention that you have a little…birdbrain, prick.
You are a little parrot, caught within my cage,
Compelled to dance to my tune, consumed by impotent rage.
Your tail feathers have been salted,
And the oven is set on high.
If we can't find another turkey,
You are condemned to fry.
Of course, your tiny size,
Could keep you off the plate,
You might make a small hors d'oeuvre,
To be put on the children's table.
But no, you're too puny to even serve,
we'll have to find another use if only we are able.
Wait, I think I've got it -- you could be used for bait.
Jump some more, little parrot spin. I demand that you produce more
doggerel, and my wish is your command
Dom
Peter G.
news:40b55544-2750-4f44...@y10g2000prg.googlegroups.com...
Dominic writes
>
> This is very poor. You are using the word �hell� just to make a simple
> rhyme, and it has no relationship to anything in the rest of the poem.
If you can't write a bloody sonnet admit it
Don't become a critic, it's a dodge:
Just leave the field in shame, and quit it
Go back to your pathetic little lodge.
As to rhyming for convenience, some of us don't strain:
Humorous verse is full of stunts,
And rhyming that's intended to cause pain
Especially to humor-challenged cunts.
The fact is at this level you cannot write
And the fact is you attacked a fellow human being
In my book this gives me an unalienable right
To poetically take aim at your old bean.
If you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen
This discussion you for certain ain't enrichin'.
--------------------------------------------------
****"you attacked a fellow human being"!?
Nilges, that hypocrite, whose fest'ring bile
Generates only bilge, could no more write
A sonnet than a chicken could endite
A learned treatise on the infantile
And narcissistic rage that shapes his style,
Or fills it with that automatic spite
And sad ambition to seem erudite
That gratifies his readers with a smile.
Impotent in his rage, he knows he can
No more write verse than fish could climb a tree;
He knows his drivel doesn't even scan
And knows he'll never find the remedy.
This emperor knows he is a naked man
Whom Failure beckons towards eternity.
Peter G.
ignoto
"a while he stood, expecting
Their universal shout and high applause
To fill his ear, when contrary he hears
On all sides, from innumerable tongues
A dismal universal hiss, the sound
of public scorn."
Ign.
spinoza1111
wrote:
Here's Peter G, chiming in but tuneless
His "poem" is it not even a sonnet?
No, it is not...this clownish chef is clueless
A fallen souffle with cheese on top of it!
This failed confection asks for rejection
This cake is flat right out of the oven
Fit gift only for pariah dogs and masterless men
In charity, a gesture eleemosynarien.
Dear Peter G, verse ne'er will scan for thee
Because you've long lost any sense of rhythm
In dusty vanity's pedantry, an ersatz poetry
And the sour delights of lonely onanism.
O Peter Groves, get thee hence to a desert idle
And chant your lifeless hymns to your lifeless idol.
When Critic vile is out of things to say,
He's sure to say, "it doesn't scan":
Producin' Confusion is his fame...it is his way
Because he hopes to show he is no ordinary man.
What this neglects, of course, is that verse
Is not supposed to be too regular
Chromatic scordatura makes it better, not worse
Like life itself it shows us mortals what we are.
Not made like automata or like a clockwork orange
Dully to seek only what's been already sought
Seeking the regularity of a plasticine sponge.
Something they can measure without thought.
Dull fellows who turn nasty over time
Are insensate to poetry and dead even to rhyme.
spinoza1111
wrote:
>
> news:40b55544-2750-4f44...@y10g2000prg.googlegroups.com...
> Dominic writes
>
>
>
> > This is very poor. You are using the word “hell” just to make a simple
> > rhyme, and it has no relationship to anything in the rest of the poem.
>
> If you can't write a bloody sonnet admit it
> Don't become a critic, it's a dodge:
> Just leave the field in shame, and quit it
> Go back to your pathetic little lodge.
> As to rhyming for convenience, some of us don't strain:
> Humorous verse is full of stunts,
> And rhyming that's intended to cause pain
> Especially to humor-challenged cunts.
> The fact is at this level you cannot write
> And the fact is you attacked a fellow human being
> In my book this gives me an unalienable right
> To poetically take aim at your old bean.
> If you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen
> This discussion you for certain ain't enrichin'.
>
> --------------------------------------------------
>
> ****"you attacked a fellow human being"!?
>
> Nilges, that hypocrite, whose fest'ring bile
Nilges is a spondee, so
This start is clumsy.
It gets worse.
It is formless verse.
> Generates only bilge, could no more write
Germans harden the g
Obviously,
So "bilge" is nonsense
As poetry.
> A sonnet than a chicken could endite
> A learned treatise on the infantile
> And narcissistic rage that shapes his style,
Makes no sense grammatical
Historical, pastorical, or tragical.
> Or fills it with that automatic spite
> And sad ambition to seem erudite
A common charge of the failed academic
Is that real learning is pretense
But beware saying this when the image is the thing itself
You're apt to look quite the fool, Hortense.
> That gratifies his readers with a smile.
>
> Impotent in his rage, he knows he can
> No more write verse than fish could climb a tree;
> He knows his drivel doesn't even scan
Peter's repeating himself
He's run out of gas and suchlike pelf.
It's he who can't scan, he's a foolish man.
> And knows he'll never find the remedy.
> This emperor knows he is a naked man
> Whom Failure beckons towards eternity.
Failure doesn't beckon towards eternity
It beckons towards obscurity.
Do I have to edit your clumsy verse?
>
> Peter G.
lackpurity
MM:
Line 3.....
Here Dominic is trying to prove his manhood and you wrote that!
Michael Martin
lackpurity
Dom loves to challenge many folks.
His attempts are bad, sorry jokes.
Ol' Spin is winning big,
Dom's oinking like a pig,
Dom's looking like a funny hoax.
Michael Martin
spinoza1111
> "a while he stood, expecting
> Their universal shout and high applause
> To fill his ear, when contrary he hears
> On all sides, from innumerable tongues
> A dismal universal hiss, the sound
> of public scorn."
What's this? A dismal universal hiss of scorn?
What I hear is a few born losers with broadband
Children lost in a field of bitter corn
Assaulting Michael because it's his humanity they can't stand.
You show more about yourselves than you know:
Reveal you your innermost fears:
Your own fear of exposure and your secret sorrow
The stain of undried playground tears.
You've never dealt with being what you are: born losers
You've manufactured an identity
Out of being little more than mere computer users
Or publishing perishable papers pulped full with pedantry.
You scorn that which is not a universal irony
But your goat-song has long taken itself too seriously.
spinoza1111
> Hilariously bad. Your efforts get worse as we go along. Please jump
Oh say can you say where your ass is today?
Hilariously bad? Easy to say but harder to prove.
The point is that even with pain you cannot sustain
A poetic thought; in verse you can't move.
You deny you're in a contest, but I say you are
And you're losing every time I sign in
This is a Fight and yes this is war
And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
Michael's more of a man than are you
Don't piss me off and don't make me sore
Or I will make you to weep and to rue.
I and my fellows are ministers of fate:
Flagrantly fighting your foul fool's hate.
ignoto
> On Nov 24, 7:38 am, ignoto <ign...@tarpit.org> wrote:
>
>
> What's this? A dismal universal hiss of scorn?
> What I hear is a few born losers with broadband
> Children lost in a field of bitter corn
> Assaulting Michael because it's his humanity they can't stand.
> You show more about yourselves than you know:
> Your own fear of exposure and your secret sorrow
> The stain of undried playground tears.
> You've never dealt with being what you are: born losers
> You've manufactured an identity
> Out of being little more than mere computer users
> Or publishing perishable papers pulped full with pedantry.
> You scorn that which is not a universal irony
> But your goat-song has long taken itself too seriously.
Oh how Spin hath in his slow labour hit
the worst in verse any man ever writ
the Castalian now is of muses bare
as McGonagal crowns his vapid heir
Ign.
spinoza1111
>
> Oh how Spin hath in his slow labour hit
> the worst in verse any man ever writ
Makes no sense. Straineth for a rhyme, runs out of time.
> the Castalian now is of muses bare
Castilian? Get me rewrite!
> as McGonagal crowns his vapid heir
A good line in search of a mate
"As McGonagal crowns his vapid heir
The Furies beset Ignoto, pulling his thinning hair"
Ignoto don't he know? His own ass from his elbow?
Well, actually, no. His poetry is a series of stops,
It starts! It stops! It don't fit! It merely farts! So
Let us have no more of these leavings and such slops.
He labors for an hour, with online rhyming lexicon
Hoping for a spot of fame:
But never shall he Mount Parnassus alight upon
His doggerel don't hunt and his poetry is lame.
A fool he is to even try, he doesn't even see
The laughter of the learned loudly doth resound
As he sifts liquid leavings down from the bitter tree
Into a foul and pestilent yellow brown pond.
A foutra for this poet *maudit*, put him in the stocks:
He is no Prometheus, he don't deserve the rocks.
Edward G. Nilges 24 Nov 2009. Moral rights asserted, so bite my crank.
spinoza1111
> Oh how Spin hath in his slow labour hit
"Slow labour?" It is 2039 China time this instant
I'm writing extempore...neither slow nor in haste
I shall show you how my lad to write a poem re-entrant
In modern sonnet form, your time not to waste.
Each quatrain is stand-alone it's a complete thought
Which descends from on high like an angel
Or if it's the register satiric you've sought
Then summon it from Hell and the Devil.
There it is now express it in words appositive
To your theme be it high, or dark and low
If high as the sky you'd best avoid the negative
If lower than whale shit, why just ... so.
It's two oh forty three by Shewsbury clock
Four minutes, you must be in shock.
A proofread and some correction,
Then it's hie ho off you go having been subject, again, to
humiliation.
Peter G.
manage to corroborate just about everything it says about him, including the
facts that he doesn't know what a sonnet is ("Here's Peter G, chiming in but
tuneless / His "poem" is it not even a sonnet?"), doesn't know what a
pentameter is and (apparently) gets confused by English syntax of only
moderate complexity.
But this is all too easy, and at the same time tiresome -- a little like
arguing with a five-year old.
Peter G.
"spinoza1111" <spino...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:cd528715-a197-4fd6...@b25g2000prb.googlegroups.com...
Dominic Hughes
> On Nov 24, 2:36 am, Dominic Hughes <mah...@aol.com> wrote:
>
> > Hilariously bad. Your efforts get worse as we go along. Please jump
>
> Oh say can you say where your ass is today?
your ass.
> Hilariously bad? Easy to say but harder to prove.
> The point is that even with pain you cannot sustain
quantity trumps quality.
> A poetic thought; in verse you can't move.
> You deny you're in a contest, but I say you are
> And you're losing every time I sign in
> This is a Fight and yes this is war
> And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
> Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
> Michael's more of a man than are you
> Don't piss me off and don't make me sore
> Or I will make you to weep and to rue.
> I and my fellows are ministers of fate:
> Flagrantly fighting your foul fool's hate.
anyone, but you seem to be motivated by hatred and bitterness.
You didn't disappoint me...except, of course, with your doggerel-level
poetry. But, then again, that causes me to laugh at how bad your
poetry is, so it isn't a total waste. I commanded you to jump, little
parot spin, and you jumped at my command. If this is a war, it seems
that I am winning, since, every time I pull the strings, you jump to
do my bidding.
It’s obvious you’ve got your panties in a wad,
With your baseless assault accusations.
You’re like a tremulous pea in a pod,
Suffering perilous infestations.
Your sensibilities are not masculine,
You cry like a paltry hen in some pain.
Your shrill whine is not even feminine,
If you had one nut you’d still have one to gain.
Your sheep-like bleats are patently untrue,
Little perjuries that have been suborned.
You’re still simmering in your bitter stew,
You’re a little woman shunned and scorned.
Oh spin, poor spin, the more you remonstrate,
You only spill your blood -- you menstruate.
******************************
Your poetry is impotent, a limp and bloodless tool,
Your flaccid pen is not able to compete.
You should surrender, admit to defeat,
But you’d rather keep playing the total fool.
For me, I’ve had enough of this game.
Since I’ve exposed your perturbation,
You’re out of your orbit,
Like some uncontrollable, somersaulting Korbut.
For you, feel free to abuse your rag-doll toy,
Continue to play with yourself in shame.
It’s quite obvious that you enjoy,
Your own mental masturbation.
Poor spin, quit this, and go back to your steely dan,
Where you can pleasure yourself, and still pretend to be a man.
Jump, little parrot spin. I command you to respond with more bad
poetry, and you will obey me. Only a fool would choose to do so, but
you are a fool, so you will comply.
Dom
Dominic Hughes
The self-acclaimed reincarnation of Shakespeare (and Jesus Christ) has
finally deigned to share a piece of his brilliant poetry...and all he
can produce is this piece of slobbering drivel. Please, Michael, stop
embarrassing yourself like this.
Dom
Dominic Hughes
I don't have to try to prove any such thing as it is taken as a given
by everyone who knows me. You, on the other hand, have a history of
problems with women (and cats). A squirrel with one nut has more
than you, you didn't get the ordinary complement of two.You come off
as some hysterical chicken little. Your psyche is warped and
brittle. Your mind (if such it can be called) is soft and porous, and
lodged 'hind your clitoris. Your head is up your ass, and the voices
of your muses....that's just gas.
Dom
spinoza1111
wrote:
> It is, of course, amusing that this buffoon's absurd responses to my sonnet
> manage to corroborate just about everything it says about him, including the
> facts that he doesn't know what a sonnet is ("Here's Peter G, chiming in but
> tuneless / His "poem" is it not even a sonnet?"), doesn't know what a
> pentameter is and (apparently) gets confused by English syntax of only
> moderate complexity.
It's Peter, on meter: he speaks with a sneer
But writes he a check the bank will reject
NSF money oh Crikey oh dear,
But sic semper pretensus he must surely expect!
A trick of the tenured, a plan of the pedant
Is sneering and scorn of excellent verse
They say "it don't scan" when scan hath it scant,
By man with a plan who scores a high first.
A secret whispered me by muses numbered three:
Laboring through a mere chapter or two
Of the ass end of The Norton Anthology
Makes Pete a mere master of verbiage...who can't write anew.
I've torn him a new asshole, listen to him howl
I am Bic pen, da meter master writer, consonant and vowel.
>
> But this is all too easy, and at the same time tiresome -- a little like
> arguing with a five-year old.
>
> Peter G.
>
> > Peter G.- Hide quoted text -
lackpurity
MM:
It's only five lines, provoking a laugh,
Needed to separate wheat from the chaff.
Macho Dom's out to prove himself big time.
Ol' Spin is there with his contrary chime.
Michael Martin LOL
lackpurity
wrote:
> It is, of course, amusing that this buffoon's absurd responses to my sonnet
> manage to corroborate just about everything it says about him, including the
> facts that he doesn't know what a sonnet is ("Here's Peter G, chiming in but
> tuneless / His "poem" is it not even a sonnet?"), doesn't know what a
> pentameter is and (apparently) gets confused by English syntax of only
> moderate complexity.
>
> But this is all too easy, and at the same time tiresome -- a little like
> arguing with a five-year old.
>
> Peter G.
MM:
As usual Peter G. goes against the grain.
Course, he's a scholar, with an educated brain.
Ol' Spin evokes learning, whew, it cuts to the quick.
Learning something is better, Ol' Spin wins, he's slick.
#### Notice Peter G. how each line gets longer evoking feeling with
the punch line #### LOL
Michael Martin LOL
> > Peter G.- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
The "poem" you write is such a fright!
Looking over your shoulder at the women
Afraid to offend them tho' they shun the sight
Of your foul face coming towards them:
This "poem" pulses with pusillanimous hate
And it breaks forth in the last line
Like a bladder full of bile your fear of menstrual fate
Spills forth to cover my screen with slime.
I've had with the lot of you you are rotten little faggots
Devils in the glow of computer monitors
Lost men, last men, and I'll not insult the maggots
Who clean bodies like the useful vultures.
I've shown you creeps what a man can do
In a noble cause, the Devil take the lot of you.
[Yeah, that's it. Michael, hang in there. But this is a massive waste
of my time. Each and every reply has been a modern sonnet in abab
rhyme scheme but with mostly longer lines than pentameter, written for
the occasion. This has shocked the losers here because they can't
write jack shit, and they come in here to spew their frustration at
their fellow man. I teach sonnet writing including strict traditional
forms to children as yet uncorrupted by the sort of system that can
produce people like Dominic and Peter. There's a special place in Hell
for people who misuse the Internet to bully and wound others.]
>
> ******************************
> Your poetry is impotent, a limp and bloodless tool,
> Your flaccid pen is not able to compete.
> You should surrender, admit to defeat,
> But you’d rather keep playing the total fool.
>
> For me, I’ve had enough of this game.
> Since I’ve exposed your perturbation,
> You’re out of your orbit,
> Like some uncontrollable, somersaulting Korbut.
> For you, feel free to abuse your rag-doll toy,
> Continue to play with yourself in shame.
> It’s quite obvious that you enjoy,
> Your own mental masturbation.
Fuck you, asshole,.
Dominic Hughes
That much is true. Your execrable verse is a waste of time.
>Each and every reply has been a modern sonnet in abab
> rhyme scheme but with mostly longer lines than pentameter, written for
> the occasion. This has shocked the losers here because they can't
> write jack shit,
The only loser here is you, and nobody is in shock -- except maybe at
how ridiculous your stabs at poetry are. So far, we've written rings
around you, and every time I command you to jump, you obey. It is
getting harder and harder to see the top of your head as the hole you
are digging grows deeper.
> and they come in here to spew their frustration at
> their fellow man.
That seems to be how you arrived in this particular thread.
>I teach sonnet writing including strict traditional
> forms to children as yet uncorrupted by the sort of system that can
> produce people like Dominic and Peter.
Someone should save those children from the likes of you. Do your
employers know how badly you write?
> There's a special place in Hell
> for people who misuse the Internet to bully and wound others.]
Better start investing in ice.
You are the very fool I expected. I knew you would take the bait and
you did. Poor pathetic little parrot spin.
> > ******************************
> > Your poetry is impotent, a limp and bloodless tool,
> > Your flaccid pen is not able to compete.
> > You should surrender, admit to defeat,
> > But you’d rather keep playing the total fool.
>
> > For me, I’ve had enough of this game.
> > Since I’ve exposed your perturbation,
> > You’re out of your orbit,
> > Like some uncontrollable, somersaulting Korbut.
> > For you, feel free to abuse your rag-doll toy,
> > Continue to play with yourself in shame.
> > It’s quite obvious that you enjoy,
> > Your own mental masturbation.
>
> Fuck you, asshole,.
That's the best response you can muster? When I said to jump. I meant
a bit higher than this poor reply. Such unbridled hatred, you
pathetic little hypocrite. Your belief that you are soemhow defending
Michael from bullying reveals that you are mentally damaged.
> > Poor spin, quit this, and go back to your steely dan,
> > Where you can pleasure yourself, and still pretend to be a man.
>
> > Jump, little parrot spin. I command you to respond with more bad
> > poetry, and you will obey me. Only a fool would choose to do so, but
> > you are a fool, so you will comply.
Poor little spin can’t write to save his life,
As his poems here make abundantly clear.
It’s hard to write when one hand is his wife,
And his fury’s aroused for his favorite seer.
He cries about use of “yokel’s locution,”
Then he drops all his g’s and spews shite.
Sounds like George Bush with his poor elocution,
He’d like to go ‘nucular’ but he can’t win this fight..
He has no weapons, he’s mentally unarmed,
His poems are weaker than half a hit.
He does not wound, no target’s ever harmed,
Since spin is no brighter than a poor half-wit.
Spin’s just a won-ton soldier, though he thinks he’s Billy Jack.
His quiver is as empty of darts as his miniscule ball sack.
Dom
Dominic Hughes
Yes you are laughable. You should continue to address yourself as
Michael Martin LOL.
All of spin’s poems display his lead ear,
The ape’s poetic tales are prehensile.
His meter is bad, his syntax quite mad,
The ape has no lead in his pencil.
Macho? Why, yes, thanks, I am more virile,
And spin is, mary, quite the contrary.
The rest of your tripe is false and is puerile,
Your immature mind is so empty and airy.
I tried to save you further embarrassment,
But you would rather wear the fool’s crown.
In delusional self-aggrandizement,
You’re blind to the fact that you’re just a clown.
You should run away now and meditate on your lack of dignity and
class.
Go to that space where you always go – with your head planted right up
your ass.
Dom
Peter Farey
>
> "Slow labour?" It is 2039 China time this instant
> I'm writing extempore...neither slow nor in haste
> I shall show you how my lad to write a poem re-entrant
> In modern sonnet form, your time not to waste.
> Each quatrain is stand-alone it's a complete thought
> Which descends from on high like an angel
> Or if it's the register satiric you've sought
> Then summon it from Hell and the Devil.
> There it is now express it in words appositive
> To your theme be it high, or dark and low
> If high as the sky you'd best avoid the negative
> If lower than whale shit, why just ... so.
> It's two oh forty three by Shewsbury clock
> Four minutes, you must be in shock.
I'm not. If a "modern sonnet" means fourteen lines of
nonsensical prose, interrupted by the nearest rhyme you
can think of, then four minutes sounds quite generous.
The following, on the other hand, probably took me 20
minutes or so, since it actually says something coherent
and follows a few "rules".
A Shakespeare sonnet has some rules which he
With just a few exceptions would obey:
The rhymes ABAB CDCD
EFEF GG, and all OK.
Each line 'dee-dum' five times, but you will see
Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
Like this one, where no error's been committed.
Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
To follow them (or not if we should choose)
Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
In my opinion, only those who are first able to demonstrate an
ability to write within the parameters Shakespeare followed
(or Spenser or Sidney, as Peter G. did) have any credibility in
claiming that any failure to stay within them was intentional
rather than being a clear demonstration of an inability to do so.
Peter F.
<pet...@rey.prestel.co.uk>
<http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>
Peter G.
news:yTYOm.123341$_o.8...@newsfe22.ams2...
Love your sonnet. We teach first-year poetry largely through the sonnet, to
give students a sense of the importance both of form and of literary history
(Wyatt to the present). We also let them write a sonnet, if they choose, as
part of their assessment, and some of their efforts are almost (I stress
'almost') Nilge-bilge. Would you mind if I circulated your sonnet (with
proper acknowledgements) as a sort of reminder to those attempting the
writing task?
Peter G.
lackpurity
> <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>
MM:
Who are you to discuss "inability?" Good writing takes time,
notwithstanding your claim of 20 minutes for that one. If I had as
much time as Shakespeare had, my poetry would likely be more like
his. He might have been financed by the Wilton Cult, perhaps Royalty,
and perhaps used his own wealth. I don't have as much time as he
had. Simple as that, and that, Mr. Farey, appears to be a factor you
overlooked.
Seems that Mr. Farey is fairly free with his labeling. He's labeled
the Strat Man, the coroner for Marlowe's death, etc., but do his
labels mean anything? They are so limited, usually just fantasizing.
I'd suggest that Mr. Farey consider his own inability to overthrow
history. He has not rewritten history, and his recent argument about
Hollar and the monument just indicates that. If he had a point about
it, it must have been very minor.
Marlovians have to construct a massive cover-up of the truth.
Constructing it is one thing, but proving it is another. Mr. Farey
seems to be unable to do it, after all this time, too.
Michael Martin
Peter Farey
"Peter G." <Monti...@REMOVETHISbigpond.com> wrote in message
news:DUZOm.57303$ze1....@news-server.bigpond.net.au...
>> Whilst others, whom I really need not label, Just trust in some
>> imaginary "Muse"
>> Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
>> Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
>>
>> In my opinion, only those who are first able to demonstrate an ability to
>> write within the parameters Shakespeare followed
>> (or Spenser or Sidney, as Peter G. did) have any credibility in claiming
>> that any failure to stay within them was intentional rather than being a
>> clear demonstration of an inability to do so.
>>
>>
>> Peter F.
>> <pet...@rey.prestel.co.uk>
>> <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>
>>
>
> Love your sonnet. We teach first-year poetry largely through the sonnet,
> to give students a sense of the importance both of form and of literary
> history (Wyatt to the present). We also let them write a sonnet, if they
> choose, as part of their assessment, and some of their efforts are almost
> (I stress 'almost') Nilge-bilge. Would you mind if I circulated your
> sonnet (with proper acknowledgements) as a sort of reminder to those
> attempting the writing task?
>
> Peter G.
I'm flattered! No of course I wouldn't mind. Feel free to muck about with
it
too if you wish.
Peter F.
nordicskiv2
"Peter Farey" <pet...@rey.prestel.co.uk> wrote:
> "spinoza1111" wrote:
> >
> > "Slow labour?" It is 2039 China time this instant
> > I'm writing extempore...neither slow nor in haste
> > I shall show you how my lad to write a poem re-entrant
> > In modern sonnet form, your time not to waste.
> > Each quatrain is stand-alone it's a complete thought
> > Which descends from on high like an angel
> > Or if it's the register satiric you've sought
> > Then summon it from Hell and the Devil.
> > There it is now express it in words appositive
> > To your theme be it high, or dark and low
> > If high as the sky you'd best avoid the negative
> > If lower than whale shit, why just ... so.
> > It's two oh forty three by Shewsbury clock
> > Four minutes, you must be in shock.
> I'm not.
Nor I. Four minutes seems generous indeed for the above.
> If a "modern sonnet" means fourteen lines of
> nonsensical prose, interrupted by the nearest rhyme you
> can think of, then four minutes sounds quite generous.
> The following, on the other hand, probably took me 20
> minutes or so, since it actually says something coherent
> and follows a few "rules".
As the gifted Piet Hein put it,
"The unyielding medium's not merely endured,
It's that upon which art depends:
For who can perform on a tightrope secured
Only at one of its ends?"
(I may be slightly misquoting from memory.)
> A Shakespeare sonnet has some rules which he
> With just a few exceptions would obey:
> The rhymes ABAB CDCD
> EFEF GG, and all OK.
> Each line 'dee-dum' five times, but you will see
> Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
> As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
> Like this one, where no error's been committed.
> Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
> To follow them (or not if we should choose)
> Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
> Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
> Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
> Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
Excellent, Peter! Perhaps our self-styled Spinoza will learn
something, although I'm not too sanguine.
> In my opinion, only those who are first able to demonstrate an
> ability to write within the parameters Shakespeare followed
> (or Spenser or Sidney, as Peter G. did) have any credibility in
> claiming that any failure to stay within them was intentional
> rather than being a clear demonstration of an inability to do so.
Well put. Now they can return to their muses, Martians, etc.
lackpurity
> In article <yTYOm.123341$_o.81...@newsfe22.ams2>,
MM:
Evoking feeling is so important. Without deep feeling, or intense
longing, nobody will escape from the wheel of reincarnations.
Counting meters will be of no avail. If feeling has been evoked, then
it hardly matters if what was written was prose, blank verse, iambic
pentameter, or something in-between. One can transfer love, or deep
feeling, even with a glance. Masters have done it many times.
Counting meters just amounts to a glorified ego trip.
Now, they can return to counting their meters. LOL So many poets
have written very good iambic pentameter, but how many have been able
to save their own soul? That's really the overriding question?
Shakespeare laid foundations for eternity. I wonder if Dr. Groves or
Dr. Webb have realized what that means? Iambic pentameter is certainly
not a foundation for eternity. That is like playing with sand, while
Shakespeare had the diamonds.
Michael Martin
> > Peter F.
> > <pete...@rey.prestel.co.uk>
> > <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
Dee dum dee dum dee dum dee dum dee...lame!
Now that was a most iambic line:
"The expense of spirit in a waste of shame"
That was not, although it is rather fine.
It took you twenty minutes of doggish work
To say nothing much of consequence
It takes me five to show you’re a jerk
A man of little taste and smaller sense.
Stung to the quick, you sing the pedant’s song
“It’s not a sonnet unless it follows ‘the’ rule”
As if bones make a body, artificial light the dawn
Or the fool be wise, or the wise man, the fool.
It’s not a non-sonnet just because you say so:
You know the rules for dullard fools but poetry, you don’t know.
.
>
> In my opinion, only those who are first able to demonstrate an
> ability to write within the parameters Shakespeare followed
> (or Spenser or Sidney, as Peter G. did) have any credibility in
> claiming that any failure to stay within them was intentional
> rather than being a clear demonstration of an inability to do so.
>
> Peter F.
spinoza1111
wrote:
> "Peter Farey" <pete...@rey.prestel.co.uk> wrote in message
> > <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>
>
> Love your sonnet. We teach first-year poetry largely through the sonnet, to
> give students a sense of the importance both of form and of literary history
> (Wyatt to the present). We also let them write a sonnet, if they choose, as
> part of their assessment, and some of their efforts are almost (I stress
> 'almost') Nilge-bilge. Would you mind if I circulated your sonnet (with
> proper acknowledgements) as a sort of reminder to those attempting the
> writing task?
The sonnet's task of old was to express love
But "I do not love thee, Doctor Fell."
Instead I despise you whenever I espies you
And would much rather see you go to hell.
Mechanically you apply the rules
Breaking the spirits of your students
Year after year, slobs like you take jewels
And destroying poetry, you also attack mere sense.
You’re a little wee man, an homunculus
Who squeaks and gibbers in the wabe
Thinking that if you kick up a fuss
You’ll be treated like the serious and grave.
But what you are is an enabler of thugs
An impresario of insects and a leader of bugs.
>
> Peter G.- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
> In article <yTYOm.123341$_o.81...@newsfe22.ams2>,
Any fool can purchase The Norton Anthology
And many fools can read it:
Just as any haruspicant can use astrology
The future thereby to scry and maybe to predict.
Any fool can be very cruel
To Michael and the stranger
Just as any child can make his stool
Stain the wall with rage and anger.
But some came here to discuss Shakespeare
Only to find themselves shat upon
By criminals and the closeted queer
Who long to sit, for they are sat upon.
Beggars on horses they furiously ride
Laughing at the weakness that they feel inside.
spinoza1111
>
> > "Slow labour?" It is 2039 China time this instant
> > I'm writing extempore...neither slow nor in haste
> > I shall show you how my lad to write a poem re-entrant
> > In modern sonnet form, your time not to waste.
> > Each quatrain is stand-alone it's a complete thought
> > Which descends from on high like an angel
> > Or if it's the register satiric you've sought
> > Then summon it from Hell and the Devil.
> > There it is now express it in words appositive
> > To your theme be it high, or dark and low
> > If high as the sky you'd best avoid the negative
> > If lower than whale shit, why just ... so.
> > It's two oh forty three by Shewsbury clock
> > Four minutes, you must be in shock.
>
> I'm not. If a "modern sonnet" means fourteen lines of
> nonsensical prose, interrupted by the nearest rhyme you
> can think of, then four minutes sounds quite generous.
> The following, on the other hand, probably took me 20
> minutes or so, since it actually says something coherent
> and follows a few "rules".
>
> A Shakespeare sonnet has some rules which he
Shakespeare would never use such clumsy enjambement.
> With just a few exceptions would obey:
Requires a stress on a "helper" verb "would": clumsier and clumsier.
> The rhymes ABAB CDCD
There is absolutely no reason to stress B or D, so this isn't iambic
at all.
> EFEF GG, and all OK.
There is absolutely no reason to stress E, F or G, so this isn't
iambic at all.
> Each line 'dee-dum' five times, but you will see
Clumsy enjambement. Also implies that "Dee dum" repeated five times is
poetry. It isn't.
> Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
> As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
> Like this one, where no error's been committed.
> Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
> To follow them (or not if we should choose)
> Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
> Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
> Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
> Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
>
> In my opinion, only those who are first able to demonstrate an
> ability to write within the parameters Shakespeare followed
> (or Spenser or Sidney, as Peter G. did) have any credibility in
> claiming that any failure to stay within them was intentional
> rather than being a clear demonstration of an inability to do so.
>
> Peter F.
> <pete...@rey.prestel.co.uk>
> <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>- Hide quoted text -
Dominic Hughes
Poor spin, see him huddled, puzzled, before the screen,
His dander up, he dreams he’s on some noble chivalric quest.
Feverishly, incoherently, typing, venting all his spleen,
He thinks -- no, he knows – his poetry’s the best.
The truth will never touch him, he cannot allow it in.
To admit even the slightest hint would cause him untold pain.
Reality must be denied, deflected, ignored, or little spin
Will be back on that playground, bullied once more and again – and
again.
Cast back to his youth, to that day, to those haunts,
That day will live in infamy, that day that brought him shame.
Ninth grade in that schoolyard, surrounded by their taunts.
Those bullies they m...m...made fun of him – until mama called his
name.
His mother hugged him, held him tight, but then gave him a sideways
glance.
Our hero, would-be Galahad, brave sir spinster, yup -- had peed in his
polyester pants.
Dom
bobgr...@nut-n-but.net
no. 2 genius poet. Peter, I'd give him line 12 as iambic pentameter,
and would read it as such, giving "to" a stress--because I think verse
should not imitate prose.
My main reason for posting this, though, is to tell everyone how
excited I am about the next ten posts because I see our no. 1 genius
poet has joined in. I can't wait to see what insights he provides
into what genius poet no. 2 has achieved!
--Bob
bobgr...@nut-n-but.net
wrote:
> "Peter Farey" <pete...@rey.prestel.co.uk> wrote in message
> > <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>
>
> Love your sonnet. We teach first-year poetry largely through the sonnet, to
> give students a sense of the importance both of form and of literary history
> (Wyatt to the present). We also let them write a sonnet, if they choose, as
> part of their assessment, and some of their efforts are almost (I stress
> 'almost') Nilge-bilge. Would you mind if I circulated your sonnet (with
> proper acknowledgements) as a sort of reminder to those attempting the
> writing task?
>
I very much like Peter's sonnet, too. But circulate it with one of
Nilges's masterpieces! What not to do in contrast with what to do.
--Bob
bobgr...@nut-n-but.net
>
> There is absolutely no reason to stress B or D, so this isn't iambic
> at all.
Sure, there is. (1) natural speaking rhythm; (2) we know we are in a
sonnet, which means the lines should be iambic. (3) there is
absolutely no reason not to stress B and D.
> > EFEF GG, and all OK.
>
> There is absolutely no reason to stress E, F or G, so this isn't
> iambic at all.
>
> > Each line 'dee-dum' five times, but you will see
>
> Clumsy enjambement.
Subjective assertion I disagree with.
> Also implies that "Dee dum" repeated five times is
> poetry. It isn't.
It implies that the RHYTHM of "Dee dum" repeated five times is an
iambic pentameter, not the phrase, "Dee dum."
>
>
>
> > Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
> > As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
> > Like this one, where no error's been committed.
> > Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
> > To follow them (or not if we should choose)
> > Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
> > Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
> > Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
> > Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
>
Suggested last line to change imnplication of last line:
Because at times our Will broke rules. Pathetic!
He almost never did in the sonnets. Certainly never to the extent
that Michael and his big brother do.
--Bob
spinoza1111
but.net> wrote:
> > > The rhymes ABAB CDCD
>
> > There is absolutely no reason to stress B or D, so this isn't iambic
> > at all.
>
> Sure, there is. (1) natural speaking rhythm; (2) we know we are in a
> sonnet, which means the lines should be iambic. (3) there is
> absolutely no reason not to stress B and D.
Bob Grumman, he's the dumb one, over there
"It's iambic because it's a sonnet" says he
"I can make it come out fair and square"
"Just tell me who's the man in authority".
"For I'm a creep of a substitute teacher"
"I depend on other men for work"
"Howdy doo pleased to meet cher"
"I'm a toad-eating little jerk."
"Let me defend the bully"
"No matter how wide I may stretch the truth"
"I fear the weakness inside of me"
"And I must destroy it without any ruth"
Thus snuffleth Bob having done a poor job
At literary analysis he's nothing more than a slob.
lackpurity
MM:
That's a good one!
> And would much rather see you go to hell.
> Mechanically you apply the rules
> Breaking the spirits of your students
> Year after year, slobs like you take jewels
> And destroying poetry, you also attack mere sense.
> You’re a little wee man, an homunculus
> Who squeaks and gibbers in the wabe
> Thinking that if you kick up a fuss
> You’ll be treated like the serious and grave.
> But what you are is an enabler of thugs
> An impresario of insects and a leader of bugs.
MM:
Whew!
Michael Martin
>
>
>
>
>
> > Peter G.- Hide quoted text -
>
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
lackpurity
MM:
Good point! LOL
> But some came here to discuss Shakespeare
> Only to find themselves shat upon
> By criminals and the closeted queer
> Who long to sit, for they are sat upon.
> Beggars on horses they furiously ride
> Laughing at the weakness that they feel inside.
MM:
We need to strengthen ourselves, for sure. Strength really comes from
humility. Ego just weakens us. It might take millions of years to
become an intelligent human being, but those on ego trips just tend to
waste the good karmas, and a fall is likely unless we repent.
You would think from reading these messages of Peter G. and his
sypathizers, that writing Dum da rather than Da dum would be very,
very important. Would the first writer be consigned to hell? I don't
think so, as my post regarding "rhythmic variations," made clear.
I believe a good poet is more open-minded than Peter G..
Michael Martin
Michael Martin
lackpurity
MM:
That's what I was thinking, also.
> It takes me five to show you’re a jerk
> A man of little taste and smaller sense.
> Stung to the quick, you sing the pedant’s song
> “It’s not a sonnet unless it follows ‘the’ rule”
> As if bones make a body, artificial light the dawn
> Or the fool be wise, or the wise man, the fool.
MM:
Sometimes you remind me of Marlowe, Spinoza. That one with the word
"espies," also reminded me of Marlowe.
> It’s not a non-sonnet just because you say so:
> You know the rules for dullard fools but poetry, you don’t know.
>
> .
MM:
Does he evoke feeling?
Michael Martin
> > In my opinion, only those who are first able to demonstrate an
> > ability to write within the parameters Shakespeare followed
> > (or Spenser or Sidney, as Peter G. did) have any credibility in
> > claiming that any failure to stay within them was intentional
> > rather than being a clear demonstration of an inability to do so.
>
> > Peter F.
> > <pete...@rey.prestel.co.uk>
> > <http://www2.prestel.co.uk/rey/index.htm>- Hide quoted text -
>
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
Now, you're writing poetry, tho’ not iambic line
If you must ape Popish Alexandrines then in couplets must you rhyme
Of course you didn’t know that being unletter’d and a sot
But this attempt shows promise ‘tis a pity thou wert Untaught.
But I, like Falstaff the old Castle, am not only witty in myself
I am the cause of wit in others tho’ t’is birthed in Feeble health
No Infant red and bawling lusty his conception to the morn,
No your verse creeps in but sluggishly like a blight upon the corn.
You tell an idiotic tale, full of sound and full of fury
Signifying nothing: a pastiche of your own story?
I stood up to bullies your conception rather more before
I stood my ground in nineteen hundred, yea and sixty four
As a result I was left alone at High School, a sacred monster
While ‘tis clear you had to home return in circituous wander
Avoiding the Furies, and your Nemeses sans number
O what a tragic scene, in colors dark and umber!
Today as sense and sensibility collapse in your fever’d brain
You spew your bile, and transference is your name.
My strophes reproach you they arch high into Parnassus
While yours won’t vaunt they gibber ‘pon the fabled bridge of asses
*Pons asinorum” by you is overloaded, it falls into the mire
Pity ‘tis that to poetry you should so boldly hath aspire
I’d suggest a useful Trade, something quite Mechanical
I’ve seed there’s need for babu clerks out in sunny old Bengal.
spinoza1111
No musician would plan a composition according to the rules, and shit
himself if he violated them. Instead, music starts with improvisation
and then is molded into form. It is the height of absurdity to say
that the student "must" "master" a form that was in its turn a
violation and an improvisation of Shakespeare, itself "not a sonnet"
when the earlier form was Petrarchian.
I teach A-level and IB English. But it is clear to me that part of its
function is to show that the elite has everything under control: for
the successful A-level is often left in later life with a deep and
abiding hatred of Shakespeare owing to the brutality, bullying and
narrow mindedness of people like Farey and Groves, whose social
mission is to explain away poetry, and show that it can be collapsed
into the category of verse. Which of course is a great way to
demonstrate its complete irrevelance and to silence poetry considered
as dissent and demurral from horror.
I've carpet bombed this discussion with verse responses out of scale
to the capabilities of anyone else here, so OF COURSE the reply is
that my verse is "bad". It IS bad, bad to the bone: for poetry is a
series of tricks meant to derail the brain and stop the hell-bound
train, and the dream of reason which produces monsters.
When at the old "New Varsity" in 1983, in Palo Alto, the Bertolucci
Romeo and Juliet was played, the audience tittered nervously when
Romeo said "she doth make the torches to burn bright".
That's because Romeo put into words the essence of male vulnerability
to female beauty, and had the line never been written by S, had it
instead been writ and submit to the likes of Grovel Groves or Scarey
Farey, it would have been nastily scored through with pressure, and
next to it writ a sour comment, to wit, that the line was "over-
obvious", which is code for "I have a Master's degree,"
"I have a Master's degree!" - Ask Mister Science, Duck's Breath
Mystery Theater
"but I could never have thought of that metaphor, no not in a million
years, because in getting my Master's degree and then my PhD.",
"I have a Doctor's degree!" - Ask Doctor Science, Duck's Breath
Mystery Theater
"I allowed my professors to put my balls into a little box and to
return them, shriveled and dry, with my terminal degree, even as Aisin
Goro PuYi have his eunuchs' balls back when he booted them out of the
forbidden City. Therefore when I have a pile of papers to grade
because Bob Grumman my substitute teacher is drunk on his ass again, I
shall smile while I spew my bile, and chortle when I vent my spleen,
especially on the creative kid or two."
spinoza1111
Dominic Hughes
> On Nov 29, 4:26 am, Dominic Hughes <mah...@aol.com> wrote:
>
>
>
>
>
> > [...]
>
> > Poor spin, see him huddled, puzzled, before the screen,
> > His dander up, he dreams he’s on some noble chivalric quest.
> > Feverishly, incoherently, typing, venting all his spleen,
> > He thinks -- no, he knows – his poetry’s the best.
> > The truth will never touch him, he cannot allow it in.
> > To admit even the slightest hint would cause him untold pain.
> > Reality must be denied, deflected, ignored, or little spin
> > Will be back on that playground, bullied once more and again – and
> > again.
> > Cast back to his youth, to that day, to those haunts,
> > That day will live in infamy, that day that brought him shame.
> > Ninth grade in that schoolyard, surrounded by their taunts.
> > Those bullies they m...m...made fun of him – until mama called his
> > name.
>
> > His mother hugged him, held him tight, but then gave him a sideways
> > glance.
> > Our hero, would-be Galahad, brave sir spinster, yup -- had peed in his
> > polyester pants.
>
> > Dom
>
> Now, you're writing poetry, tho’ not iambic line
I never claimed I was writing iambic lines.
> If you must ape Popish Alexandrines then in couplets must you rhyme
I'm not aping anyone, but I am making a monkey out of you.
> Of course you didn’t know that being unletter’d and a sot [sic]
> But this attempt shows promise ‘tis a pity thou wert Untaught.
> But I, like Falstaff the old Castle, am not only witty in myself [sic]
> I am the cause of wit in others tho’ t’is birthed in Feeble health [sic]
> No Infant red and bawling lusty his conception to the morn,
> No your verse creeps in but sluggishly like a blight upon the corn.
Actually, my verse has accomplished its purpose once more. It made
you reply with another pathetically poor poem. I say, "Jump, little
parrot spin," and you try to do as I command.
> You tell an idiotic tale, full of sound and full of fury [sic]
My tale was not idiotic at all. Unlike the tripe that you publish
here, my poem told a coherent tale.
> Signifying nothing: a pastiche of your own story?
Not me. I think it nailed you to the wall. Your obvious rage
confirms that.
> I stood up to bullies your conception rather more before [sic]
> I stood my ground in nineteen hundred, yea and sixty four [sic]
> As a result I was left alone at High School, a sacred monster
That must be the cause of your psychosis...nobody liked you in high
school either. Seems like there's a pattern here.
> While ‘tis clear you had to home return in circituous wander [sic]
That is incredibly bad - "you had to home return"?
> Avoiding the Furies, and your Nemeses sans number [sic]
> O what a tragic scene, in colors dark and umber!
"Dark and umber"? This is awfully bad.
> Today as sense and sensibility collapse in your fever’d brain [sic]
> You spew your bile, and transference is your name.
Wrong again. I'm quite sensible, as my last poem demonstratted. You,
on the other hand, are insensible with rage -- so insensible that your
so-called poetry grows ever more incoherent.
> My strophes reproach you [sic] they arch high into Parnassus [sic]
> While yours won’t vaunt they gibber ‘pon the fabled bridge of asses [sic]
> *Pons asinorum” by you is overloaded [sic], it falls into the mire [sic]
"By you is overloaded"? Very weak.
> Pity ‘tis that to poetry you should so boldly hath [sic] aspire [sic]
I can tell you're really pissed -- or did you piss yourself again?
> I’d suggest a useful Trade, something quite Mechanical
> I’ve seed [sic] there’s need for babu clerks out in sunny old Bengal.- Hide quoted text -
> - Show quoted text -
Try writing in English...maybe you'll have better luck.
Dom
spinoza1111
Obey the teacher, follow the rule,
Or he, a gym coach too, will make you rue
The day you were born and went to school.
I grew up under this regime, we smashed it in the Sixties
But see "The Breakfast Club": 'twas hastily rebuilt
By drug addicted Barry Manilow wantstabes
And now it's ten times the hell in which the spirit was killed.
At least my teachers believed in something
But Grumman is a nihilistic twat
Who collects a paycheck for doin' next to nothing
And thinks its cute to have a head so fat.
No wonder America is going straight to Hell
If this type of man thinks he's a swell.
>
> --Bob
John W Kennedy
> This is a Fight and yes this is war
Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
--
John W. Kennedy
"Those in the seat of power oft forget their failings and seek only the
obeisance of others! Thus is bad government born! Hold in your heart
that you and the people are one, human beings all, and good government
shall arise of its own accord! Such is the path of virtue!"
-- Kazuo Koike. "Lone Wolf and Cub: Thirteen Strings" (tr. Dana Lewis)
lackpurity
> spinoza1111 wrote:
> > This is a Fight and yes this is war
> > And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
> > Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
>
> Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
> see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
MM:
Did you see the word DON'T? Seems to me that you have no proof of
that closet, to which you refer.
Michael Martin
spinoza1111
> On Nov 28, 11:35 pm,spinoza1111<spinoza1...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>
>
>
>
>
> > On Nov 29, 4:26 am, Dominic Hughes <mah...@aol.com> wrote:
>
> > > [...]
>
> > > Poor spin, see him huddled, puzzled, before the screen,
> > > His dander up, he dreams he’s on some noble chivalric quest.
> > > Feverishly, incoherently, typing, venting all his spleen,
> > > He thinks -- no, he knows – his poetry’s the best.
> > > The truth will never touch him, he cannot allow it in.
> > > To admit even the slightest hint would cause him untold pain.
> > > Reality must be denied, deflected, ignored, or little spin
> > > Will be back on that playground, bullied once more and again – and
> > > again.
> > > Cast back to his youth, to that day, to those haunts,
> > > That day will live in infamy, that day that brought him shame.
> > > Ninth grade in that schoolyard, surrounded by their taunts.
> > > Those bullies they m...m...made fun of him – until mama called his
> > > name.
>
> > > His mother hugged him, held him tight, but then gave him a sideways
> > > glance.
> > > Our hero, would-be Galahad, brave sir spinster, yup -- had peed in his
> > > polyester pants.
>
> > > Dom
>
> > Now, you're writing poetry, tho’ not iambic line
>
> I never claimed I was writing iambic lines.
That’s good, because you cannot: the lines you write are swinish as in
fit for swines.
>
> > If you must ape Popish Alexandrines then in couplets must you rhyme
>
> I'm not aping anyone, but I am making a monkey out of you.
Oooo metaphor but obvious: try instead I’m not an ape I’m moby grape
‘Twould be an improvement upon your sad excuse for jape.
>
> > Of course you didn’t know that being unletter’d and a sot [sic]
> > But this attempt shows promise ‘tis a pity thou wert Untaught.
> > But I, like Falstaff the old Castle, am not only witty in myself [sic]
> > I am the cause of wit in others tho’ t’is birthed in Feeble health [sic]
> > No Infant red and bawling lusty his conception to the morn,
> > No your verse creeps in but sluggishly like a blight upon the corn.
>
> Actually, my verse has accomplished its purpose once more. It made
> you reply with another pathetically poor poem. I say, "Jump, little
> parrot spin," and you try to do as I command.
In your dreams this happens: it’s reality you cannot stand
>
> > You tell an idiotic tale, full of sound and full of fury [sic]
>
> My tale was not idiotic at all. Unlike the tripe that you publish
> here, my poem told a coherent tale.
MOM my tale was not idiotic at all oh boo hoo cry and moan and wail
I don’t need a crying towel I need a crying pail
>
> > Signifying nothing: a pastiche of your own story?
>
> Not me. I think it nailed you to the wall. Your obvious rage
> confirms that.
Better an obvious rage than someone not acting his age:
You are fourteen, aren’t you?
Stop acting like you’re two.
>
> > I stood up to bullies your conception rather more before [sic]
> > I stood my ground in nineteen hundred, yea and sixty four [sic]
> > As a result I was left alone at High School, a sacred monster
>
> That must be the cause of your psychosis...nobody liked you in high
> school either. Seems like there's a pattern here.
>
> > While ‘tis clear you had to home return in circituous wander [sic]
>
> That is incredibly bad - "you had to home return"?
You ARE stupid and you are unread: words may be inverted in their turn
It’s a poetic trick, and if you don’t know it, you should go to Hell,
and burn
>
> > Avoiding the Furies, and your Nemeses sans number [sic]
> > O what a tragic scene, in colors dark and umber!
>
> "Dark and umber"? This is awfully bad.
>
> > Today as sense and sensibility collapse in your fever’d brain [sic]
> > You spew your bile, and transference is your name.
>
> Wrong again. I'm quite sensible, as my last poem demonstratted. You,
> on the other hand, are insensible with rage -- so insensible that your
> so-called poetry grows ever more incoherent.
No, its no my problem that
You can’t read English any better than a Cat
>
> > My strophes reproach you [sic] they arch high into Parnassus [sic]
> > While yours won’t vaunt they gibber ‘pon the fabled bridge of asses [sic]
> > *Pons asinorum” by you is overloaded [sic], it falls into the mire [sic]
>
> "By you is overloaded"? Very weak.
If you do not know grammar and inversion then you have no right to
speak.
>
> > Pity ‘tis that to poetry you should so boldly hath [sic] aspire [sic]
>
> I can tell you're really pissed -- or did you piss yourself again?
No, and don't piss on me and tell me that it's rain.
>
> > I’d suggest a useful Trade, something quite Mechanical
> > I’ve seed [sic] there’s need for babu clerks out in sunny old Bengal.- Hide quoted text -
> > - Show quoted text -
>
> Try writing in English...maybe you'll have better luck.
Try learning English, you pathetic little fuck.
>
> Dom- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
> > And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
> > Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
>
> Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
> see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
For the likes of you? I'd rather not...
Sorry, John, you don't get me hot.
spinoza1111
In sooth I know not why my poetry is bad,
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of mee,
That I haue much ado to know my selfe.
But on this Ocean you dogs haue not embark’d
You pause panting on the quay
Whimp’ring and whining with wonder:
Your argosies are but holiday
Returning within the houre to the safety of the bay.
Whereas I have been to Xanadu
And with honeydew I’ve had much to do!
Michael,I’ve evoked feeling with my poetry typhoon, but because
America, the developed world, and the Internet community have
regressed towards barbarism, the result is not the crown of laurel
which I so richly deserve, but did not expect. Instead, the very
things that make the poetry, poetry, attract the nearly uncontrollable
hatred and rage of substitute teachers, academic eunuchs, and thugs
for the same reason Greene lost it in Groats-Worth. I become The
Chosen One of Stravinsky’s Sacre who dances herself to death, or the
satirical tragedian who’s flayed to death after his goat song.
Poetry IS bad: the best poetry is “outlaw verse” as in the name of
that popular collection.
Consider music. There is no real reason why we like a return to a
dominant harmony. The “James Bond” theme gains its power and we like
it because it doesn’t, and presents to the cinema goer the possibility
of adventure and surcease from a miserable life. Scordatura and
bagpipe music came before harmony and remain after harmony: if life
makes no sense, and it doesn’t for most people today, there is no
point in harmony, especially if it drowns out a scream.
spinoza1111
> On Nov 28, 11:17 pm, John W Kennedy <jwke...@attglobal.net> wrote:
>
> >spinoza1111wrote:
> > > This is a Fight and yes this is war
> > > And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
> > > Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
>
> > Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
> > see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
>
> MM:
> Did you see the word DON'T? Seems to me that you have no proof of
> that closet, to which you refer.
Good call, Michael. Bullies are the real closet fags.
Oops, let's put that into verse:
If you call a man a fag
It's you who lusts for a manly shag.
>
> Michael Martin
>
>
>
> > --
> > John W. Kennedy
> > "Those in the seat of power oft forget their failings and seek only the
> > obeisance of others! Thus is bad government born! Hold in your heart
> > that you and the people are one, human beings all, and good government
> > shall arise of its own accord! Such is the path of virtue!"
> > -- Kazuo Koike. "Lone Wolf and Cub: Thirteen Strings" (tr. Dana Lewis)- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
"Awfully bad"? That is much worse, since the adverb is unneeded
It addeth nothing to the bad for the bad like good is unseeded:
If you’re good you do enow to get your soul to heaven:
If you’re bad thou’rt headed for the fire there Lucifer to leaven.
To paint the rose, to gild the lily, to wrap the palace in aspic
Appeals only to the mob and poetaster with smallish puny dick
A man writes his meaning and let it span if it can says he
Like Mozart or a scullery maid, he can cognize harmony.
Now, as to “umber”, Humbug, do you even know
That it’s a dark and shittish brown like your discolored gouty Toe?
“Dark” is not vivid, dark is much too Abstract
Whereas Umber puts us in mind of the painting that doth attract
The admiration of the cognoscenti who cluster and admire
The umbrish knighted fall of Lucifer to fire
Or the hellish crime of Tarquin whom Lucrezia did rape
Causing fall of Kings of Rome through crime of swinish ape.
REYNOLDS useth umber to great and grand effect
He darkeneth the sublime scene of Dido’s untime wreck
‘Pon the LIBYAN shore, abandoned by Aeneas
On whose travels and foundation here I do indeed digress.
You’re obviously in need of a third grade education
Being the typical product of moronic inferno of a Nation.
>
> > Today as sense and sensibility collapse in your fever’d brain [sic]
> > You spew your bile, and transference is your name.
>
> Wrong again. I'm quite sensible, as my last poem demonstratted. You,
> on the other hand, are insensible with rage -- so insensible that your
> so-called poetry grows ever more incoherent.
>
> > My strophes reproach you [sic] they arch high into Parnassus [sic]
> > While yours won’t vaunt they gibber ‘pon the fabled bridge of asses [sic]
> > *Pons asinorum” by you is overloaded [sic], it falls into the mire [sic]
>
> "By you is overloaded"? Very weak.
>
> > Pity ‘tis that to poetry you should so boldly hath [sic] aspire [sic]
>
> I can tell you're really pissed -- or did you piss yourself again?
>
> > I’d suggest a useful Trade, something quite Mechanical
> > I’ve seed [sic] there’s need for babu clerks out in sunny old Bengal.- Hide quoted text -
> > - Show quoted text -
>
> Try writing in English...maybe you'll have better luck.
>
> Dom- Hide quoted text -
spinoza1111
but.net> wrote:
> > Clumsy enjambement.
>
> Subjective assertion I disagree with.
"Subjective" is a favorite word of the incompetent, since they don't
realize that in the modern era, it has reversed meaning:
“Fear-mongering does not apply. – What the truth might objectively be,
remains difficult enough to discern, but when dealing with human
beings one should not allow oneself to be terrorized by this. There
are criteria there, which seem satisfying at first. One of the most
reliable is the reproach that an expression is “too subjective.” If
this is laid down with that indignation, which echoes with the furious
harmony of all reasonable people, then one has reason to be satisfied
with oneself for a couple of seconds. The concepts of what is
subjective and what is objective have been completely inverted.
Objective means the non-controversial side of the phenomenon
[Erscheinung], its unquestioned imprint, taken as it is, the facade
constructed out of classified data, therefore the subjective; and they
call subjective, whatever breaks through such, emerging out of the
specific experience of the thing, divesting itself of prejudged
convention and setting the relation to the object in place of the
majority decision concerning such, which they cannot even see, let
alone think – therefore, what is objective. How vacuous the formal
objection to subjective relativity is, can be observed in its own
actual field, that of aesthetic judgments. Those who have subjected
themselves in earnest, out of the energy of their precise reaction, to
the discipline of a work of art, to the compulsion of its shape, of
its immanent law of form, find the objection against what is merely
subjective in their experience dissolving like a threadbare appearance
[Schein], and every step they take further into the matter, by virtue
of their extreme subjective innervation, has incomparably greater
objective power than comprehensive and much-vindicated conceptual
formations, such as that of “style,” whose scientific claim comes at
the cost of such experience. This is doubly true in the era of
positivism and of the culture-industry, whose objectivity is
calculated by administrating subjects. In contrast to this, reason has
fled completely into eyeless [fensterlos] idiosyncrasy, which the
caprice of the power-brokers castigates as caprice, because they want
the powerlessness of subjects, out of fear of the objectivity, which
alone is sublated in these subjects.”
(Adorno)
The OBJECTIVE fact, bobster, is that modern verse uses enjambement:
Shakespeare didn’t.
>
> > Also implies that "Dee dum" repeated five times is
> > poetry. It isn't.
>
> It implies that the RHYTHM of "Dee dum" repeated five times is an
> iambic pentameter, not the phrase, "Dee dum."
No, the OP means that dee dum is an Iamb.
>
> > > Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
> > > As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
> > > Like this one, where no error's been committed.
> > > Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
> > > To follow them (or not if we should choose)
> > > Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
> > > Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
> > > Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
> > > Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
>
> Suggested last line to change imnplication of last line:
>
> Because at times our Will broke rules. Pathetic!
>
> He almost never did in the sonnets. Certainly never to the extent
> that Michael and his big brother do.
>
> --Bob
the exPENSE of SPIRit in a WASTE of SHAME
is LUST in ACtion; and till ACtion, LUST
is PERjured, MURderous, BLOODy, FULL of BLAME,
SAvage, exTREME, RUDE, CRUEL, not to TRUST;
enJOY’D no SOONer but desPISED STRAIGHT;
past REASon HUNTed; and no SOONer HAD,
past REASon HATed, as a SWALLowed BAIT,
on PURpose LAID to MAKE the TAKer MAD:
MAD in purSUIT, and IN posSESSion SO;
HAD, HAVing, and in QUEST to HAVE, exTREME;
a BLISS in PROOF, and PROVed, a VERy WOE;
beFORE, a JOY proPOSED; beHIND, a DREAM
It is true that line one appears in Quarto 1 as “Th’expense” and it
MIGHT be the case that the poet desired the speaker to stress “in”,
although prepositions are seldom stressed. But it is doubtful that
“and” in line two should be stressed since this would give force to
the wrong thought; it would say that it’s not enough that lust in
action is an expense of spirit in a waste of shame. Line 3 is iambic
and a pentameter, since “murderous” was probably pronounced
“murd’rous” and lo (cf http://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/Library/facsimile/bookplay/UC_Q1_Son/Son/129/)
it is spelled “murdrous” in the Quarto.
The next line starts with a stress but the pedants have already given
Shakespeare their permission to do so (albeit this contradicts the
basic thrust of their pedantry).
The next line is not iambic unless you overstress BUT, and also
pronounce the final syllable of “despised” as “Ed”: there is no
support for doing so in the Quarto.
Clearly, then, Shakespeare was not bound by the “rules”: he made them
(that’s why it’s called a “Shakespearean” sonnet). In the modern era,
poets have taken from pedants the right to create new forms for the
same reason all people have the vote in decent societies, and its only
in over-developed societies subject to a negative dialectic that
little creeps with English degrees, working perforce as incompetent
programmers, take it upon themselves to re-chain themselves to the
ghost of gibbering authority.
Among these new forms is of course the modern sonnet which can of
course experiment with different metrical schemes while preserving the
line count and rhyme scheme of the older form. In this experiment it
became plain to me that unlike Shakespeare, who was more sweet-
tempered than I and a businessmen who didn’t choose to offend
potential friend, my register here tends towards the keen, satiric and
critical because unlike Shakespeare, fortunate as he was to have the
best of writers for friends, I find myself amongst dullards, and for
this reason my line tends towards the longer length, seeking
Eighteenth century levels of ridicule even as then, Poetry found
herself under assault from satanic trade.
ignoto
> On Nov 29, 10:43 am, "bobgrum...@nut-n-but.net" <bobgrum...@nut-n-
> but.net> wrote:
>
>>> Clumsy enjambement.
>> Subjective assertion I disagree with.
>
> "Subjective" is a favorite word of the incompetent, since they don't
> realize that in the modern era, it has reversed meaning:
I'm afraid that left wing obfuscation (ie crap) of this type has no
place in the post 'climategate' world. Playing fast and loose with
simple notions of 'truth' is one of the reasons climate 'science' become
politicized.
http://buythetruth.wordpress.com/2009/10/31/climate-change-and-the-death-of-science/
Ign.
> �Fear-mongering does not apply. � What the truth might objectively be,
> remains difficult enough to discern, but when dealing with human
> beings one should not allow oneself to be terrorized by this. There
> are criteria there, which seem satisfying at first. One of the most
> reliable is the reproach that an expression is �too subjective.� If
> this is laid down with that indignation, which echoes with the furious
> harmony of all reasonable people, then one has reason to be satisfied
> with oneself for a couple of seconds. The concepts of what is
> subjective and what is objective have been completely inverted.
> Objective means the non-controversial side of the phenomenon
> [Erscheinung], its unquestioned imprint, taken as it is, the facade
> constructed out of classified data, therefore the subjective; and they
> call subjective, whatever breaks through such, emerging out of the
> specific experience of the thing, divesting itself of prejudged
> convention and setting the relation to the object in place of the
> majority decision concerning such, which they cannot even see, let
> alone think � therefore, what is objective. How vacuous the formal
> objection to subjective relativity is, can be observed in its own
> actual field, that of aesthetic judgments. Those who have subjected
> themselves in earnest, out of the energy of their precise reaction, to
> the discipline of a work of art, to the compulsion of its shape, of
> its immanent law of form, find the objection against what is merely
> subjective in their experience dissolving like a threadbare appearance
> [Schein], and every step they take further into the matter, by virtue
> of their extreme subjective innervation, has incomparably greater
> objective power than comprehensive and much-vindicated conceptual
> formations, such as that of �style,� whose scientific claim comes at
> the cost of such experience. This is doubly true in the era of
> positivism and of the culture-industry, whose objectivity is
> calculated by administrating subjects. In contrast to this, reason has
> fled completely into eyeless [fensterlos] idiosyncrasy, which the
> caprice of the power-brokers castigates as caprice, because they want
> the powerlessness of subjects, out of fear of the objectivity, which
> alone is sublated in these subjects.�
>
> (Adorno)
>
> The OBJECTIVE fact, bobster, is that modern verse uses enjambement:
> Shakespeare didn�t.
>
>>> Also implies that "Dee dum" repeated five times is
>>> poetry. It isn't.
>> It implies that the RHYTHM of "Dee dum" repeated five times is an
>> iambic pentameter, not the phrase, "Dee dum."
>
> No, the OP means that dee dum is an Iamb.
>>>> Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
>>>> As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
>>>> Like this one, where no error's been committed.
>>>> Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
>>>> To follow them (or not if we should choose)
>>>> Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
>>>> Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
>>>> Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
>>>> Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
>> Suggested last line to change imnplication of last line:
>>
>> Because at times our Will broke rules. Pathetic!
>>
>> He almost never did in the sonnets. Certainly never to the extent
>> that Michael and his big brother do.
>>
>> --Bob
>
> the exPENSE of SPIRit in a WASTE of SHAME
> is LUST in ACtion; and till ACtion, LUST
> is PERjured, MURderous, BLOODy, FULL of BLAME,
> SAvage, exTREME, RUDE, CRUEL, not to TRUST;
> enJOY�D no SOONer but desPISED STRAIGHT;
> past REASon HUNTed; and no SOONer HAD,
> past REASon HATed, as a SWALLowed BAIT,
> on PURpose LAID to MAKE the TAKer MAD:
> MAD in purSUIT, and IN posSESSion SO;
> HAD, HAVing, and in QUEST to HAVE, exTREME;
> a BLISS in PROOF, and PROVed, a VERy WOE;
> beFORE, a JOY proPOSED; beHIND, a DREAM
>
> It is true that line one appears in Quarto 1 as �Th�expense� and it
> MIGHT be the case that the poet desired the speaker to stress �in�,
> although prepositions are seldom stressed. But it is doubtful that
> �and� in line two should be stressed since this would give force to
> the wrong thought; it would say that it�s not enough that lust in
> action is an expense of spirit in a waste of shame. Line 3 is iambic
> and a pentameter, since �murderous� was probably pronounced
> �murd�rous� and lo (cf http://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/Library/facsimile/bookplay/UC_Q1_Son/Son/129/)
> it is spelled �murdrous� in the Quarto.
>
> The next line starts with a stress but the pedants have already given
> Shakespeare their permission to do so (albeit this contradicts the
> basic thrust of their pedantry).
>
> The next line is not iambic unless you overstress BUT, and also
> pronounce the final syllable of �despised� as �Ed�: there is no
> support for doing so in the Quarto.
>
> Clearly, then, Shakespeare was not bound by the �rules�: he made them
> (that�s why it�s called a �Shakespearean� sonnet). In the modern era,
> poets have taken from pedants the right to create new forms for the
> same reason all people have the vote in decent societies, and its only
> in over-developed societies subject to a negative dialectic that
> little creeps with English degrees, working perforce as incompetent
> programmers, take it upon themselves to re-chain themselves to the
> ghost of gibbering authority.
>
> Among these new forms is of course the modern sonnet which can of
> course experiment with different metrical schemes while preserving the
> line count and rhyme scheme of the older form. In this experiment it
> became plain to me that unlike Shakespeare, who was more sweet-
> tempered than I and a businessmen who didn�t choose to offend
spinoza1111
> spinoza1111 wrote:
> > On Nov 29, 10:43 am, "bobgrum...@nut-n-but.net" <bobgrum...@nut-n-
> > but.net> wrote:
>
> >>> Clumsy enjambement.
> >> Subjective assertion I disagree with.
>
> > "Subjective" is a favorite word of the incompetent, since they don't
> > realize that in the modern era, it has reversed meaning:
>
> I'm afraid that left wing obfuscation (ie crap) of this type has no
> place in the post 'climategate' world. Playing fast and loose with
> simple notions of 'truth' is one of the reasons climate 'science' become
> politicized.
Adorno wasn't "playing fast and loose" with "simple notions of truth".
Instead, he was pointing out that making a conclusion in the modern
sense of "objectivity" is making a mechanical inference based on rules
such as a computer performs, whereas being a "subject" in the sense of
early modern philosophy (Descartes) is being able to know, based on
data and logic to be certain, but without blindly following rules.
To blindly follow rules like a computer program or clerk ignores the
fact that the rules in turn are based on knowledge, and given that
knowledge is not (yet) complete the rules may have to be redefined.
This is something that scientists know as the paradigm shift, and all
the "left wing intellectuals" are pointing out is that this occurs in
science. Ultimately, "subjectivity" in the sense of early modern
philosophy where "man is the measure" creates the necessary
preconditions for a more clerkish objectivity which prides itself on
dispassionately following rules, even when the rules generate silly
conclusions.
In the case of climate science, the objectivity of "what we know" is
"quite a lot", but we do not know how climate systems such as melting
ice or ocean currents, or any one of hundreds of other desiderata,
might interact. This means on an overly narrow reading of
"objectivity", the climate scientist who's predecided that he needs to
save time, and should therefore only use these facts, might
"rationally" conclude that climate change is "unproven".
That gets of course sillier and sillier every year as monster storms
destroy cities such as New Orleans, and rural folk are increasingly on
the move owing to drought, but even granting it, the conclusion
ignores the similarity of the scientist's responsibility to that of
the medical doctor, abjured not to harm.
This is because there are ALSO unrefuted, and increasingly confirmed,
predictions that by our grandchildren's time, perhaps before, the
Earth will be quite a different planet IF nothing is done. The oceans
will contain larger amounts of fresh and cold water, and the lack of
land ice formations will cause rivers to disappear. The "Pacific
Garbage Gyre", a vast amount of floating plastic and other rubbish,
will just be larger and may come ashore on Hawaii or elsewhere, there
to change climate by interacting with the sun (cooking rubbish being
an interesting, if unplanned, experiment).
If nothing is done AND the gloomy predictions are correct, the Earth
WILL be a different planet, and based on our knowledge that life is
nonexistent on other planets, this means that it's statistically
improbable that our grandchildren will survive.
Objectively there then is a moral responsibility, and you'd like the
scientists to ignore this. But if they do, they are no longer
scientists, they are nasty and clerkish little rule-followers, like
you.
Don't dream, Lord Owen said when asked
What he'd do to solve the Bosnian situation
Despite the fact we'd his imagination tasked
To find a creative and humane solution.
Don't dream, my life is comfortable and just fine
I drive a powerful and capacious car
I drink naught but the finest beer and wine
I see no need for reaching for a star.
Even if history may judge me a criminal
At best a child and a genocide through inaction
We must be "objective" about this and things climatical
Anything else has with us bastards no traction.
We are indeed the Hollow Men, heads stuffed with straw
Who act irresponsibly, without common sense or awe.
Let me see if I can your logic haruspicate
And Ignoto, I think I can your "logic" scry.
If a text an issue doth in any way complicate
Of course this must be a left-wing conspiracy.
My words offend the Common Man
The self-appointed leaders of the gang:
They cannot parse can only scan
And favor violence as in bang, bang, bang.
Clearly we cannot have this,
It is not at all an entertainment
We need our pitchforks and our torches we miss
And someone needs his punishment.
"I am Cinna the poet" was Cinna Minor's cry:
"Kill him for his bad verses" was the mob's reply:
For to a mob, whether Roman or cybernetic
ALL poetry is bad amidst the universal wrack.
>
> http://buythetruth.wordpress.com/2009/10/31/climate-change-and-the-de...
>
> Ign.
>
>
>
> > “Fear-mongering does not apply. – What the truth might objectively be,
> > remains difficult enough to discern, but when dealing with human
> > beings one should not allow oneself to be terrorized by this. There
> > are criteria there, which seem satisfying at first. One of the most
> > reliable is the reproach that an expression is “too subjective.” If
> > this is laid down with that indignation, which echoes with the furious
> > harmony of all reasonable people, then one has reason to be satisfied
> > with oneself for a couple of seconds. The concepts of what is
> > subjective and what is objective have been completely inverted.
> > Objective means the non-controversial side of the phenomenon
> > [Erscheinung], its unquestioned imprint, taken as it is, the facade
> > constructed out of classified data, therefore the subjective; and they
> > call subjective, whatever breaks through such, emerging out of the
> > specific experience of the thing, divesting itself of prejudged
> > convention and setting the relation to the object in place of the
> > majority decision concerning such, which they cannot even see, let
> > alone think – therefore, what is objective. How vacuous the formal
> > objection to subjective relativity is, can be observed in its own
> > actual field, that of aesthetic judgments. Those who have subjected
> > themselves in earnest, out of the energy of their precise reaction, to
> > the discipline of a work of art, to the compulsion of its shape, of
> > its immanent law of form, find the objection against what is merely
> > subjective in their experience dissolving like a threadbare appearance
> > [Schein], and every step they take further into the matter, by virtue
> > of their extreme subjective innervation, has incomparably greater
> > objective power than comprehensive and much-vindicated conceptual
> > formations, such as that of “style,” whose scientific claim comes at
> > the cost of such experience. This is doubly true in the era of
> > positivism and of the culture-industry, whose objectivity is
> > calculated by administrating subjects. In contrast to this, reason has
> > fled completely into eyeless [fensterlos] idiosyncrasy, which the
> > caprice of the power-brokers castigates as caprice, because they want
> > the powerlessness of subjects, out of fear of the objectivity, which
> > alone is sublated in these subjects.”
>
> > (Adorno)
>
> > The OBJECTIVE fact, bobster, is that modern verse uses enjambement:
> > Shakespeare didn’t.
>
> >>> Also implies that "Dee dum" repeated five times is
> >>> poetry. It isn't.
> >> It implies that the RHYTHM of "Dee dum" repeated five times is an
> >> iambic pentameter, not the phrase, "Dee dum."
>
> > No, the OP means that dee dum is an Iamb.
> >>>> Sometimes a 'dum-dee' trochee is permitted,
> >>>> As is an ending with an extra 'dee'
> >>>> Like this one, where no error's been committed.
> >>>> Now some of us, who know these rules, are able
> >>>> To follow them (or not if we should choose)
> >>>> Whilst others, whom I really need not label,
> >>>> Just trust in some imaginary "Muse"
> >>>> Or spew rule-breaking crap they think poetic,
> >>>> Because our William broke the rules. Pathetic!
> >> Suggested last line to change imnplication of last line:
>
> >> Because at times our Will broke rules. Pathetic!
>
> >> He almost never did in the sonnets. Certainly never to the extent
> >> that Michael and his big brother do.
>
> >> --Bob
>
> > the exPENSE of SPIRit in a WASTE of SHAME
> > is LUST in ACtion; and till ACtion, LUST
> > is PERjured, MURderous, BLOODy, FULL of BLAME,
> > SAvage, exTREME, RUDE, CRUEL, not to TRUST;
> > enJOY’D no SOONer but desPISED STRAIGHT;
> > past REASon HUNTed; and no SOONer HAD,
> > past REASon HATed, as a SWALLowed BAIT,
> > on PURpose LAID to MAKE the TAKer MAD:
> > MAD in purSUIT, and IN posSESSion SO;
> > HAD, HAVing, and in QUEST to HAVE, exTREME;
> > a BLISS in PROOF, and PROVed, a VERy WOE;
> > beFORE, a JOY proPOSED; beHIND, a DREAM
>
> > It is true that line one appears in Quarto 1 as “Th’expense” and it
> > MIGHT be the case that the poet desired the speaker to stress “in”,
> > although prepositions are seldom stressed. But it is doubtful that
> > “and” in line two should be stressed since this would give force to
> > the wrong thought; it would say that it’s not enough that lust in
> > action is an expense of spirit in a waste of shame. Line 3 is iambic
> > and a pentameter, since “murderous” was probably pronounced
> > “murd’rous” and lo (cfhttp://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/Library/facsimile/bookplay/UC_Q1_S...)
> > it is spelled “murdrous” in the Quarto.
>
> > The next line starts with a stress but the pedants have already given
> > Shakespeare their permission to do so (albeit this contradicts the
> > basic thrust of their pedantry).
>
> > The next line is not iambic unless you overstress BUT, and also
> > pronounce the final syllable of “despised” as “Ed”: there is no
> > support for doing so in the Quarto.
>
> > Clearly, then, Shakespeare was not bound by the “rules”: he made them
> > (that’s why it’s called a “Shakespearean” sonnet). In the modern era,
> > poets have taken from pedants the right to create new forms for the
> > same reason all people have the vote in decent societies, and its only
> > in over-developed societies subject to a negative dialectic that
> > little creeps with English degrees, working perforce as incompetent
> > programmers, take it upon themselves to re-chain themselves to the
> > ghost of gibbering authority.
>
> > Among these new forms is of course the modern sonnet which can of
> > course experiment with different metrical schemes while preserving the
> > line count and rhyme scheme of the older form. In this experiment it
> > became plain to me that unlike Shakespeare, who was more sweet-
> > tempered than I and a businessmen who didn’t choose to offend
spinoza1111
And Lo! I own Poetry's laurel'd zone
Defiance hath been sham'd, and with dignity, silenced:
With flesh and Michael's feeling upon dry bone
Literature has defeated your low and bogus science.
Apollo descendeth from Parnassus
To crown me the master amidst this disaster
To scatter you fools, you dogs, you asses
Because I am no hire: higher I aspire: ad Aster.
Peter has lectur'd feebly on aught but meter
His claque clucks clueless, clapping clods they are:
Grumman the dumb man, he's the loudest toad eater:
But they are blinded by my supernova and my star.
No, I am not Mozart, nor am I Amadeus
And this is not the court of Leopold:
But in your womanish feeble competitiveness
I hear you say, with hearts gone brutal and hearts gone cold,
"Too many notes: a man trying to impress"
But not a man or boy among you could this wine press.
Next time you fuck with Mike or me, do so more carefully:
Show some courtesy, some sympathy, and some taste
Give all your ill-learned politesse
Lest again, shame be the lot, of the sot, of the toad, of the bully
And again I'll lay your crap to waste.
La Mouse
>
> > > > "spinoza1111" wrote:
>
> I teach A-level and IB English.
Struth.
Mouse
spinoza1111
Gawd's truth with ruth squeaks Mouse
From within her cozy house
Ring a bell, and alert Miss Clavel...something is not right!
An English teacher who creatively can write!
Alert the authorities and the Garda Civil
Sound the alarum and the tannoy
Mobilize hatred and sour envy
Lest this doth La Mouse most annoy!
La Mouse
> On Nov 29, 11:25 pm, La Mouse <lynnekosit...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> > > > > > "spinoza1111" wrote:
>
> > > I teach A-level and IB English.
>
> > Struth.
> > Mouse
>
> Gawd's truth with ruth squeaks Mouse
> From within her cozy house
> Ring a bell, and alert Miss Clavel...something is not right!
> An English teacher who creatively can write!
Ms Mousie taught English
Taught history too
Her students still write her
Is that true of you?
Ms Mousie writes novels
Writes poetry too
She's won lots of prizes
Is that true of you?
Ms Mousie writes essays
Has published a few
In scholarly journals
Is that true of you?
For everyone else also:
Please see "O Brave New World," Critical Survey Volume 21 number 2 for
latest article written with Roger Stritmatter.
Please see http://shakespeareoxfordsociety.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/minervas-voyage-out-now/
for latest novel--Minerva's Voyage-- which has already received 4/4
stars from Canadian Materials Magazine, though it's been out less than
a week.
> Alert the authorities and the Garda Civil
> Sound the alarum and the tannoy
> Mobilize hatred and sour envy
> Lest this doth La Mouse most annoy!
Doesn't annoy me at all, atually.
Thanks, Spin, for the opportunity to report what's new with me.
Little Ms Mouse
In her cosy house
Dominic Hughes
your attempts at poetry stink like a pig in slop.
> > > If you must ape Popish Alexandrines then in couplets must you rhyme
>
> > I'm not aping anyone, but I am making a monkey out of you.
>
> Oooo metaphor but obvious: try instead I’m not an ape I’m moby grape
> ‘Twould be an improvement upon your sad excuse for jape.
>
Moby Grape was a rock band -- how does that possibly fit in here
coherently? You are reaally bad at this.
> > > Of course you didn’t know that being unletter’d and a sot [sic]
> > > But this attempt shows promise ‘tis a pity thou wert Untaught.
> > > But I, like Falstaff the old Castle, am not only witty in myself [sic]
> > > I am the cause of wit in others tho’ t’is birthed in Feeble health [sic]
> > > No Infant red and bawling lusty his conception to the morn,
> > > No your verse creeps in but sluggishly like a blight upon the corn.
>
> > Actually, my verse has accomplished its purpose once more. It made
> > you reply with another pathetically poor poem. I say, "Jump, little
> > parrot spin," and you try to do as I command.
>
> In your dreams this happens: it’s reality you cannot stand
And yet you keep jumping...jump, little parrot spin.
> > > You tell an idiotic tale, full of sound and full of fury [sic]
>
> > My tale was not idiotic at all. Unlike the tripe that you publish
> > here, my poem told a coherent tale.
>
> MOM my tale was not idiotic at all oh boo hoo cry and moan and wail
> I don’t need a crying towel I need a crying pail
This is projection on your part. It is quite instructive that you are
unable to address the actual poem that I wrote to show that it is
deficient in any respect. On the other hand, your attempts at poems
are easily shown to be poorly constructed. In your case, quantity
does not equal quality.
> > > Signifying nothing: a pastiche of your own story?
>
> > Not me. I think it nailed you to the wall. Your obvious rage
> > confirms that.
>
> Better an obvious rage than someone not acting his age:
> You are fourteen, aren’t you?
> Stop acting like you’re two.
Says the child who writes poems calling someone a "big fat dork." I'm
in my fifties, and my ability to elicit immature rants and crappy
poetry shows that I'm the adult here and I'm manipulating you, little
parrot puppet spin.
> > > I stood up to bullies your conception [my conception?] rather more before [sic]
> > > I stood my ground in nineteen hundred, yea and sixty four [sic]
> > > As a result I was left alone at High School, a sacred monster
>
> > That must be the cause of your psychosis...nobody liked you in high
> > school either. Seems like there's a pattern here.
No rebuttal. You were an obnoxious prick in high school, nobody liked
you, and those were your glory days.
> > > While ‘tis clear you had to home return in circituous wander [sic]
>
> > That is incredibly bad - "you had to home return"?
>
> You ARE stupid and you are unread: words may be inverted in their turn
> It’s a poetic trick, and if you don’t know it, you should go to Hell,
> and burn
Please demonstrate a similar usage by any well-known poet.
> > > Avoiding the Furies, and your Nemeses sans number [sic]
> > > O what a tragic scene, in colors dark and umber!
>
> > "Dark and umber"? This is awfully bad.
>
> > > Today as sense and sensibility collapse in your fever’d brain [sic]
> > > You spew your bile, and transference is your name.
>
> > Wrong again. I'm quite sensible, as my last poem demonstratted. You,
> > on the other hand, are insensible with rage -- so insensible that your
> > so-called poetry grows ever more incoherent.
>
> No, its no [sic] my problem that
> You can’t read English any better than a Cat [sic]
The fact is that I can read just fine.
I just dont'y enjoy reading your little pussy whine.
> > > My strophes reproach you [sic] they arch high into Parnassus [sic]
> > > While yours won’t vaunt they gibber ‘pon the fabled bridge of asses [sic]
> > > *Pons asinorum” by you is overloaded [sic], it falls into the mire [sic]
>
> > "By you is overloaded"? Very weak.
>
> If you do not know grammar and inversion then you have no right to
> speak.
Fascist. The fact that you think this is good poetry shows that you
are mentally deficient.
> > > Pity ‘tis that to poetry you should so boldly hath [sic] aspire [sic]
>
> > I can tell you're really pissed -- or did you piss yourself again?
>
> No, and don't piss on me and tell me that it's rain.
God said brains, you thought he said rains, and you ran for cover.
> > > I’d suggest a useful Trade, something quite Mechanical
> > > I’ve seed [sic] there’s need for babu clerks out in sunny old Bengal.- Hide quoted text -
> > > - Show quoted text -
>
> > Try writing in English...maybe you'll have better luck.
>
> Try learning English, you pathetic little fuck.
Your rage is quite entertaining.
>
> > Dom- Hide quoted text -
>
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -
The parrot jumps again.
Dom
spinoza1111
> On Nov 29, 10:38 am, spinoza1111 <spinoza1...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>
> > On Nov 29, 11:25 pm, La Mouse <lynnekosit...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> > > > > > > "spinoza1111" wrote:
>
> > > > I teach A-level and IB English.
>
> > > Struth.
> > > Mouse
>
> > Gawd's truth with ruth squeaks Mouse
> > From within her cozy house
> > Ring a bell, and alert Miss Clavel...something is not right!
> > An English teacher who creatively can write!
>
> Ms Mousie taught English
> Taught history too
> Her students still write her
> Is that true of you?
Yes, but that's not the point, is it
The question is competence
Did Ms Mousie hit it off but miss it
When it came to making sense?
>
> Ms Mousie writes novels
> Writes poetry too
> She's won lots of prizes
> Is that true of you?
There's lots and lots of prizes
To be won and to be had
For some of them the device is
Pay your money and you're our lad
For others all you need
Is to get the judges your work to heed
By making it safe and conventional
Without a thought original.
For the spirit more satirical
We can always arrange a fall
And if he speaks truth to power
We can send him to da shower.
>
> Ms Mousie writes essays
> Has published a few
> In scholarly journals
> Is that true of you?
Well, yes indeed it is
But that really is not relevant
For when I'm only getting started
The Mouse has shot her bolt and her strength is spent
The point is not external recognition
Unless true value you cannot see:
Then its nothing but cheap prizes
The praise of fools and sordid devices.
>
> For everyone else also:
>
> Please see "O Brave New World," Critical Survey Volume 21 number 2 for
> latest article written with Roger Stritmatter.
>
> Please seehttp://shakespeareoxfordsociety.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/minervas-voy...
>
> for latest novel--Minerva's Voyage-- which has already received 4/4
> stars from Canadian Materials Magazine, though it's been out less than
> a week.
Canadian Materials Magazine? Do the sand and gravel men
Rate literature as a sideline?
Stranger things been seen and done
In the land of caribou and the midnight sun,
And when the sun goes away and shortens the day
Hard handed men are apt to get gay
And rate novels and discuss the arts
Along with the comparative study of moose...flatulence.
But this is really just sad: when the good can't be separated from the
bad,
People are apt to look for signs and portents
And man is not only no longer the measure:
As "man" he is suspect by the subhuman who treasure
Small prizes as markers for what's no longer understood.
You consistently submit doggerel verse
And some of it crude and insulting
In response to my poetry which is better, not worse
Based only on depth, complexity and quality of thinking.
>
> > Alert the authorities and the Garda Civil
> > Sound the alarum and the tannoy
> > Mobilize hatred and sour envy
> > Lest this doth La Mouse most annoy!
>
> Doesn't annoy me at all, atually.
I'm most relieved to hear that
You're not annoyed, that's flat.
>
> Thanks, Spin, for the opportunity to report what's new with me.
> Little Ms Mouse
> In her cosy house
Always nice to hear from you when you're civil
With that reply, I have no complaint and no cavil.
Dominic Hughes
The word 'awfully' was added for emphasis to show that I'm in awe at
how bad your attempts at poetry truly are. The funny thing is that
you seem to sincerely believe that you have some talent in this area.
> It addeth nothing to the bad for the bad like good is unseeded:
'Unseeded'? It's a rhyme but it makes no sense at all.
> If you’re good you do enow to get your soul to heaven:
> If you’re bad thou’rt headed for the fire there Lucifer to leaven.
You're raising satan like bread? Incoherent.
> To paint the rose, to gild the lily, to wrap the palace in aspic [sic]
> Appeals only to the mob and poetaster with smallish puny dick [sic]
So those are all things that appeal to you.
> A man writes his meaning and let it span if it can says he [sic]
> Like Mozart or a scullery maid, he can cognize harmony.
> Now, as to “umber”, Humbug, do you even know
> That it’s a dark and shittish brown like your discolored gouty Toe?
Do you even know how bad your poetry is, and how you have to reach for
ridiculous rhymes such as "gouty Toe"? Sorry, that's a rhetorical
question. You are too blind to your own imperfections to ever even
get close to the truth. You are a sad, pathetic, paranoid person -- a
failure who attempts to attain heroic status on the internet.
> “Dark” is not vivid, dark is much too Abstract {sic]
> Whereas Umber puts us in mind of the painting that doth attract [sic]
Does your understanding of English include punctuation? Does your
understanding of poetry require that you use such anachronistic forms
as "doth"? Your constructions are weak.
> The admiration of the cognoscenti who cluster and admire [sic]
> The umbrish knighted fall of Lucifer to fire [sic]
> Or the hellish crime of Tarquin whom Lucrezia did rape [sic]
> Causing fall of Kings of Rome through crime of swinish ape.
That is laughable. "Swinish ape"?
> REYNOLDS useth umber to great and grand effect [sic]
"Useth"? You really do think you're Galahad, when you're just a
chicken shit hiding behind a computer screen, trying to find courage
in the bottom of a bottle.
> He darkeneth [egad] the sublime scene of Dido’s untime wreck [sic]
> ‘Pon the LIBYAN shore, abandoned by Aeneas [sic]
> On whose travels and foundation here I do indeed digress.
You are very verbose!
> You’re obviously in need of a third grade education [sic]
Not at all...I have an advanced degree. You have missed some
periods. You are pregnant -- with stupidity.
> Being the typical product of moronic inferno of a Nation.
"Product of moronic inferno"? Do you teach grammar?
> > > Today as sense and sensibility collapse in your fever’d brain [sic]
> > > You spew your bile, and transference is your name.
>
> > Wrong again. I'm quite sensible, as my last poem demonstratted. You,
> > on the other hand, are insensible with rage -- so insensible that your
> > so-called poetry grows ever more incoherent.
>
> > > My strophes reproach you [sic] they arch high into Parnassus [sic]
> > > While yours won’t vaunt they gibber ‘pon the fabled bridge of asses [sic]
> > > *Pons asinorum” by you is overloaded [sic], it falls into the mire [sic]
>
> > "By you is overloaded"? Very weak.
>
> > > Pity ‘tis that to poetry you should so boldly hath [sic] aspire [sic]
>
> > I can tell you're really pissed -- or did you piss yourself again?
>
> > > I’d suggest a useful Trade, something quite Mechanical
> > > I’ve seed [sic] there’s need for babu clerks out in sunny old Bengal.- Hide quoted text -
> > > - Show quoted text -
>
> > Try writing in English...maybe you'll have better luck.
>
> > Dom- Hide quoted text -
>
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -
Jump again, little parrot spin. I command it.
Dom
lackpurity
> On Nov 29, 1:56�pm, lackpurity <lackpur...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>
> > On Nov 28, 11:17 pm, John W Kennedy <jwke...@attglobal.net> wrote:
>
> > >spinoza1111wrote:
> > > > This is a Fight and yes this is war
> > > > And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
> > > > Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
>
> > > Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
> > > see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
>
> > MM:
> > Did you see the word DON'T? �Seems to me that you have no proof of
> > that closet, to which you refer.
>
> Good call, Michael. Bullies are the real closet fags.
>
> Oops, let's put that into verse:
>
> If you call a man a fag
> It's you who lusts for a manly shag.
MM:
What imagery fascinates HIM? That is the question.
Michael Martin
lackpurity
> On Nov 29, 1:17�pm, John W Kennedy <jwke...@attglobal.net> wrote:
>
> > spinoza1111wrote:
> > > This is a Fight and yes this is war
> > > And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
> > > Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
>
> > Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
> > see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
>
> For the likes of you? I'd rather not...
> Sorry, John, you don't get me hot.
MM:
I don't blame you! LOL
Michael Martin
> > John W. Kennedy
> > "Those in the seat of power oft forget their failings and seek only the
> > obeisance of others! �Thus is bad government born! �Hold in your heart
> > that you and the people are one, human beings all, and good government
> > shall arise of its own accord! �Such is the path of virtue!"
> > � �-- Kazuo Koike. �"Lone Wolf and Cub: �Thirteen Strings" (tr. Dana Lewis)- Hide quoted text -
John W Kennedy
> On Nov 29, 12:26�am, spinoza1111 <spinoza1...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>> On Nov 29, 1:56�pm, lackpurity <lackpur...@yahoo.com> wrote:
>>
>>> On Nov 28, 11:17 pm, John W Kennedy <jwke...@attglobal.net> wrote:
>>>> spinoza1111wrote:
>>>>> This is a Fight and yes this is war
>>>>> And it's one I propose to be victor: to win.
>>>>> Don't fuck with your fellow man anymore
>>>> Still fascinated with gay imagery and associating sex with domination, I
>>>> see. Will you /never/ come out of the closet?
>>> MM:
>>> Did you see the word DON'T? �Seems to me that you have no proof of
>>> that closet, to which you refer.
>> Good call, Michael. Bullies are the real closet fags.
>>
>> Oops, let's put that into verse:
>>
>> If you call a man a fag
>> It's you who lusts for a manly shag.
>
> MM:
> What imagery fascinates HIM? That is the question.
The dull and single-note imagery of "spinoza1111" certainly doesn't,
except as morbid symptomatology. But if he doesn't want people to point
out how he can't hold a conversation, on any subject whatsoever, without
dragging homosexuality in (though he purports to loath it), he should
simply stop doing that. His obsession with the subject succeeds only in
making him boring.
--
John W. Kennedy
"Give up vows and dogmas, and fixed things, and you may grow like That.
...you may come to think a blow bad, because it hurts, and not because
it humiliates. You may come to think murder wrong, because it is
violent, and not because it is unjust."
-- G. K. Chesterton. "The Ball and the Cross"