City Eclogue, by Ed Roberson, is clearly written with heavy-handed allusions to urban settings.
There are also several references to civil rights movements, and things related to them.
In every poem, there are spaces between words that seem to indicate a pause the writer intends to convey to the reader. I find this interesting because it seems like a good way to convey tone and timing that is often lacking in most forms of writing. But for me, it just makes me imagine William Shatner reading the poems to me.

From this list of words, I made 3 poems.

compass
noggin
tablecloths
mouthwashes
garlic
chain
platinum
bulldozer
microphones
chessboard
textile
peasant
coral
midget

Here they are:

Nobleman that I am,
I enjoy the finer things in life,
my day consists of silk-woven table cloths, upon which the finest
garlic breads are eaten.
I own the finest threaded textiles,
the finest platinum jewelry.

What, then, am I to do,
When approached by a young peasant,
in full midget armor?
The pawns on Europe's chessboard
have reached their ultimatum

------------------------------------

My noggin can't comprehend
the purpose of this exercise
no matter how hard it tries

What do compasses, mouthwashes,
platinum, armor, coral,
bulldozers, chessboards and peasants
have in common?

They make for a frustrating poem.


--------------------------------------

When they give me platinum,
I up and try to flatten 'em.

When the give me chains,
I bow even to their stains

The compass of my mind points south
From my noggin to my mouth

When I see a midget,
I can't help but fidget

I pocket rare oceanic coral,
even if it is immoral

I can't help but smile
when others feel rough textile

I speak into the microphone
only when I am alone



I'm pretty sure most poets don't even know what the hell they're own poems are supposed to be about. I can admit that these make little to no sense at all.

Points of interest

Within the poetry packet, I found two particularly interesting points in poem 53 (LIII). Namely, the repeat mention of Anne's thighs from poem 55 (LV), and the F-bomb dropped on the 2nd to last line. Anne must've had some pretty hot thighs. I quote,


"Fucking is so very lovely
Who can say no to it later?"



An excellent fucking point.

I didn't write this. It's from http://www.girl-woman-beauty-brains-blog.com/category/Valentine's+Day

Here is a little Anti-Valentine ditty
You judge and tell me if it's really witty.
It's written by a Renaissance Man, my dad,
who feels life without a Valentine is a pity.

If you have been struck by an arrow from Cupid,
Don't be so naive or utterly stupid.
It's not love.
It's just gas.
Take some Pepto-Bismol,
And it will all pass.

That last one took way too long, so this one will be short and sweet*.

Bruises are blue
Violence is red
You cheating whore,
I wish you were dead

I'm not crazy, I'm just lazy.

I'm a poet and I didn't know it

*not sweet at all

Hey, it doesn't get much more anti-love than that, right?

Anti-love poems

Love Isn't...

This decade, I should say,
has improved none since that day
when I should've taken chance, and dropped my shy facade.
Did my first, true love await that day? Ask God.

How should'a, would'a, could'a my life improved?
With every indecision, did I depthward move?
Had I tried, I could've known whether or not I would've blown
the chance or received from her a nod.

Past year, I would've asked
the girl, whom in my visions basked
were it not for those already in her life.
I would have nipped the bud of mine own strife.

How would the year have shifted?
Would my marks or spirits have been lifted?
T'is too late to contemplate
whether she'd have been my wife

Last week, I could've struck
up a conversation with some luck
with the cashier at the local store.
With my worser judgement, this impulse I did ignore.

How could my week have changed?
Perhaps a date would've been arranged,
but to wonder is a blunder
and a bore.



I know some of those aren't words, but so was a lot of shit before Shakespeare threw them in a play

Intro

Welcome to my blog. My name is Steve, and I'm a paranoid schizophrenic...



...or am i?...



Awesome poems to follow. For immediate awesomeness, here is the url of the best writer in the universe: http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.com/