Tittle: "self-multiplication and self-granulation"

My visible ribcage
is an elegant affront
--to passers by
thighs propelled
by a dutiful fear....


Yet I, so thin and dry
leer
at the flowing fat
propelled
by the lightest of breezes

A disappointing piece of work. Doesn't scan well, and makes little literal or metaphoric sense. Would suggest that the 'author' spend some time reading some proper poems (certainly not the content of this site) to gain some inspiration. Magee.
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So sorry to disappoint you. Actually, I don't read ANYONES's content on this site.
(with just 2 exceptions, other than my"self").
The fact that you really want 'literal' (in a poem? really?) or 'metaphorical' simply means that you wouldn't impress me either...with your tastes or your creations. I could be wrong though..after all, I've learned to like things such as monogamy. You can't be that bad.
I'm feeling expansive....i' think i'll keep hitting these keys...........
(HEADLINE: "Gluttonous Shits Disrupt Downtown Area While Escorting Worthless, Ungrateful Offspring to a Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana (easy target, i know) Rally")
Going back to my disappointing piece of "work"; well, it IS a simple fact that my visible ribcage is indeed an elegant affront to passers-by whose portly thighs somehow move their upper-bodies reluctantly across my path...and yes, I DO stop there in the street, leering at their self-inflicted parody of physical grace.
I, Symon, watch in Awe: at these massive bodies ( with lewd loads of chicken-McBacon-Bugers and diet Coke topped with chocolate porno-sprinkles oozing from their various grease traps )in AWE of these 2-ton former-humans so easily swayed, like empty grocery bags, by the most base ploys of commercial huckterism; from storefront to billboard...from news-stand to Disneyland - all blown about by the the easy, aimless breeze of boredom.
So, i suppose I've contradicted myself; my "poem" was literal.
But, I'm not asserting I've written a great poem. I see its many flaws (after all, i do these quickly/spontaneously [to see if i surprise myself])'
I've a question or 2 for you, though. You seem to be a thoughtful person; Who is your "proper" poet/inspiration?
Unrelated: Call your mother. She misses the piss out of you. ---Fox New$---
----I'm the worst of the best. I do nothing all day
due to the compound interest
i was smart enough to swindle
from my father's account. He was a REAL poet,
hence is is now dirt poor.
(Love you dad, happy fathers day)
How could you possibly
believe (or care if) this is
really Symon?,
-Symon
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Well, if I'd known you were so sensitive Symon I'd have probably licked your asshole for you and told you what a wonderful 'poet' you are! Ted Hughes, Ogden Nash, Fiona Pitt-Kethley and John Hegley are currently top of my reading list. Magee.
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Ho there, Magee!

oh, come off it, mon chapeau!
I refuse to believe you took that ludicrous headline, etc literally (or sincerely emotional).

I admit there was some truth to it...I REALLY DO Nothing all day(in a "work" kind of sense).
I really do live off of compound interest, and never lift a finger except to pour cocaine on my little steel platter, or touch my girlfriend. or both. I did'nt victimize my father to acquire my chosen mode of living, though. Yeah...he just simply kicked it.

but really, did you call your mum? We alight this world's stage for but an hour.
Show her yr appreciation while we're all still young & able to get about...hmmm, guess that makes me sensitive, after all. But cocaine does that to me.
-Symon

P.S. Thank you for your list of favorites/recommendations; I'll look into them.
I currently love Paul Eluard, Petrarch, John Donne, Arthur Rimbaud, John Keats, Oscar Wilde, J. K. Huysmans, Ezra Pound & Apollinaire.
-Symon
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not to butt in or anything, but.. allow me to butt in.

lol @ the diminutive 'mon chapeu'..

i would have thought you'd be snorting cocaine from the smooth skin of runway models by now, symon... twiddling with your greased salvador dali moustache while lounging in your silk smoking jacket until noon.. i know i do. except the compound interest i live on looks more like a cardboard box. and the cocaine is really ground up vitamin C tablets. and the smoking jacket is really large, strategically positioned pieces of tinfoil.

once again i've said too much. i'll butt out now.

amber
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amber,
I never tire of your eloquence. And I'm happy to know you're still out there.

Actually, it is I who've said too much lately. You see...The magical snuff goes up my nose, then out my fingertips, to the keyboard, then straight to this site. Then 15 minutes later, i discover I've hacked out 5 crazed paragraphs trying to explain The Mystery to people for whom mystery means nothing...o well, at least I had fun doing it. Incindentally, you are one of the 2 exceptions I was referring to above, in my 1st comment.
adieu adieu,
Symon
P.S. I like Vitamin C too, but if you ever visit L.A., let my butler know...he'll make sure you get some proper drugs and a steady course of vegetarian cuisine. His email is naughtysanta@bluebottle.com ....seriously

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I have never respected coke addicts at all. In fact, I think this should be in the rough section cause it's definately an over 18 subject. Lewd sex poems...whatever...but self destruction presented in a fashionable fashion is a really lame thing to do to children and impressionable adults like Amber. Kiss my ass symon...James
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i deeply appreciate the offer, dear symon.. alas, i am not in the habit of mooching off the wealthy, nicely hooved and shined though i envision your butler may be. and i do find that a pre-poetry shot of wheatgrass packs more of a punch for me in terms of finger-tingling creativity than the peruvian bolting powder. it awakens my whirling dervishes and inspires me to enter into the Dance.

yet again our dear and deeply misguided friend james has sadly misunderstood the tongue-in-cheek nature of this exchange, demonstrating once again that the I.Q. cupboard is bare at IPP (your present company excluded, of course) and its children have all gone hungry. illustrating yet again that when one visits the morgue of reality in the morning of discernment, it's best to ask the nurse of effortless perception to close all the windows of awakening afterward.

amber
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p.s. further substantiating that addicts, though tragic, are overwhelmingly preferable to tee-totalling poopypants dickheads.
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Let's all stop sucking each other's dicks/pussies shall we.
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gettin' righteous...For the kidz!
O my! thats too funny to pass up...
James, gullible james; do you mind if i riff on yr righteous anger?
---But before i get to the fun stuff, i must say that for YOU(?!) to call amber an "impressionable adult" (THAT coming from the biggest, softest doughboy on the IPP) means:
1.) You are not familiar with her work; which is characterized by dry, elegant wit, incisive critique, and a fierce independence of thought....or
2.) you don't actually know the definition of "impressionable"...or
3.) probably both.
After all, your reading comprehension is demonstrably retarded. Many of us here have noted how often you completely miss the point of someone's comment that you're responding to. In fact, i bet you've no clue what I've just said. ----

Right-o, back to my cheap fun at your expense...
your moral authority is about as legitimate as your ape-like sexuality is erotic....You did'nt understand that, did you? So I'll draw a picture for you:
You= booze-loving glutton who'll "Date" rape any female willing to pass out in your vicinity, (or at least express such a fucked up attitude toward women in your writing) .

WWJD (wut would Jamez dew?):
1. If the girl is under 13, don't get her drunk just to see how far she'll go. 13 year olds may look hot, but they're made of cocaine, and THAT"S IMMORAL, bros! It says so in the Chuck Norris Bible.

2. Throw a really cool oyster roast. put all your Dave Mathews in the CD changer, & invite any girl who's at least 14 yearz old. Get them all drunk ( Jamez-Tip: use the cheapest beer you can find to save some dough, bro!), make sure they pass out so you can "rape" 'em (u know they really want it, bros!) either till they wake up or vomit up those cheap oysterz.

3. Woot! You did it, bro. Now reward yourself with a cold Corona and a lil' internet porn! Oh, and don't worry if those stupid yesterday's chicks wake up crying, run out the door, and never speak to you again. They're just tryin' to ruin your Sunday....CHICKS FUCKIN'SUCK!

4. Walk around the mall or the internets. Find some children, and make sure there aren't some smug innelctuals standing there, joking about the serious threat of cocaine addiction within earshot of the innocent children. These cunts could care less how glamorous it sounds to those kids and curious adults (who have nothing better to do anyway). Specially if you see symon, say "kiss my ass" becUSE HE WILL ACTUALLY DO THIS AND IT FEELS KINDA GOOD. But then immediately citizen-arrest that pretenshiss vegetsren asshole and flush his illegal drugs down the toilet.

4?) no, wait...lost my count
Ok 5.) Cyborg-sex: Meet smart Sexy babes online! especially on poems websites like "Interactive Poetry Pages." These hotties go nuts for poet-men. Wannna score? Then write more! just use your latest sexxxual exployts from that sexy oyster roast (refer to WWJD Tip #2) as s poetic inspuration. Give it some high-falutin title like: "Perchance upon a jailbait arse, perchance?" Or maybe you're after a more edgy (i.e. kinky) "poet"...then use future sex-goals as litterairy fodder, with titles like "Wanna Travel to Ibiza and Get Laid!"

---------------WWJD has ben brought to you viagra.com in associoation with The War on Drugs, and sadly, Cocaine Cowboys. Sherlock Holmes and Sigmund Freud would like a present a counter-point, but they've died after being forced, by the unfashionable decree of the Burger King, to kiss james' ass.

Cirnered by the press in the aftermath, James offered these words of comfort for those of us swallowed in darkness, "fashionable fashion is a really lame thing to do to children."
Wise words from a sexual man. Wisdom unsullied by the Blakean glamour of cocaine.
But what what does this complicated anti-cocaine civil rights giant have in store for us as we seek a brighter, child-friendly tomorrow? "Lewd sex poems...whatever..."

-Symon

(reporting from the glamorous frontlines of oganically ptocessed cocaine donated by Symon to
Interscope Records,
children, and
impressionable adults)

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Amber, I'm not thinking about IQ cupboards or even how funny it was...I laughed. Shamefully. But then I realised that this is pretty scarleted content for a child to see. After watching on a documentary the problem of oxy conten (you're the pharmacist...you know how it's spelt) I thought this humor to be absolutely trash. Vitamin C...is that an impotency cure?
Between symon and the pharmacist and the prescription pad auto writers american doctors must be.....you could very well doom at least 1 child who has the misfortune to read such thoughtless crap. I really hate to be a censor or something you know. Just take it to the +18 salon. And Symon, I realise that we all make spelling errors from time to time, but get a grip man! James
PS:I can't believe that I am the one having to say this...
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O and one more thing I guess I should say to balance this tradgedy in the making out. I had a poet room mate who was a coke junkie. Yep, I used to watch him and his hooker gf shoot up. It was always a real treat watching her cry as she dug into her arm with a needle trying to find a vein. Seriously romantic, Symon. Especially with the dirty needles on the floor.
To think of all the legions of misguided addicts slowly mutilating themselves and writing poetry about how painful and fucked up it all is. I guess this parody of pain must have hit a nerve. James
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Through an unprecidented series of coincidences, I have just been ordained the Pickle Queen Pope of Bivalve, NJ!
Chaka Khan!
...3mj
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if only i were a pharmacist, poor insufficient james, for i could then self-administer something to alleviate my annoyance at your stupidity, but given that you suck at reading comprehension (i have already mentioned my profession many times previously, and it isn't pharmacy, as you seem to believe) as well as lack general intelligence i suppose i can't be too hard on you-- life must already pose quite the challenge. given that brilliant symon has experimentally demonstrated the Maillard reaction on your roast beef hide, carmelizing you with his wit to a potent crisp, now all that's left is for us to joyfully dig in to the troll feast he's tenderly prepared. mmm! well-flamed, symon, well-flamed.

i can't recall the last time someone was so thoroughly lambasted and tanned here at IPP, but today will be a day to remember.

does this mark the beginning of troll hunting season? i think it might.

amber
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Are you suggesting that amber is a 'troll'? I would wholeheartedly agree if you were. Ming.
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O yes...its all about the psychology. Hmmm....well, I guess that makes it worse in thoughtful perspective Amber. Yep, just to make it easy for you...
I love the way that drug addiction is cool in this piece. It makes me envision nausiatic delights such as a girl digging up the veins in her arm with a needle she picked off the floor in an act of...what shall we call it? Self con-trolling? Lol.ew ew ew What a happy ending!! la dee freakin da. People of IPP, forgive me for suggesting that this should be hidden away from children's eyes in a place that is for people over 18. What is wrong with that?
I didn't mean to insult your poetic prowess there symon, and I certainly didn't mean to come across that I think I am better than a junkie's habit. Well, actually I did.
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Now I suppose IPP is poisoned (once again) with this time social and moral conflict. Well, forgive me once again for being a poem closer, but I don't think that this piece is gonna do this site any good anyways. James
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LOL-- you just don't want anyone to see your public humiliation at the hands of symon!

amber