Showing posts with label NaPoWriMo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaPoWriMo. Show all posts

Monday, April 27, 2020

Ornery Poetry + Sly Rhymes: The More Things Change (Part 2)

Image by Tibor Janosi Mozes from Pixabay

The more things change, the more they stay shitty
The words of the Orange Dolt ain't pretty
He talks like a clown
Spewing his foolishness 'round
Proving his brain is just itty bitty

~sly has spoken~

Image purchased from 123rf.com
Copyright Julia Henze



NaPoWriMo: Write a review poem of something that doesn't usually get reviewed. Well, it's a review poem anyway. I give this particular subject terrible reviews all the time. Every time I fart, it's a review of what I think of his shitty performance.

April PAD Challenge: Write a change poem. Boy, do we need a change before Vice-Admiral Shitbrain sinks not only his own ship but the whole goddamn fleet with his egotistical ineptitude.

notes
I'm keeping it simple today and just having fun, letting my snarky, politically inclined alter-ego, Sly Fawkes, take the reins. This poem isn't anywhere near good enough to share on any of my subscription platforms.

I'm using this poem for my debut on Something For the Weekend, Sir, to be published on May 3, 2020. If you enjoy discussing poets and poetry, stop by. They may not want me back after this one!

If you enjoy my work, please click here to find out how you can support me. One of the easiest suggestions pays you and me both!


Saturday, April 25, 2020

Riffin' on Jim: Poetry of the Netherworld Remix in the Style of James Schuyler, Sort Of

James Schuyler
James Schuyler (1923 - 1991)

Image from the Poetry Foundation page

This poetic remix exercise takes the titles of all poems written for this month's challenges and roughly reworks them into the style of James Schuyler's poem, Sweet Romanian Tongue.



Drew down the COVID-19 curse on broken-down America
The stench of time breaking down a corpse
We cannot sail away on the asphalt sea
Some prefer to hide in sleepy little towns
 
Why do we follow a lunatic down the road to hell?
I harbor a secret wish that there are better days ahead
Yet the masque of the Orange Idiot may prevail
Too many fall into his trap
 
Steve Mnuchin, such a waspish twit, it makes me weep
I think I will head to Mr. Lovecraft's madcap zoo
Perhaps I have fallen into a time-leak mousetrap
 
Will we all fall victim to the word that destroys
As fools with brains full of love in bloom for Trump
Refuse to get their news elsewhere away from Fox
 
We are unable to hide beneath a lead umbrella
As everything rages out of control like a fire from a cigarette dropped in dry grass
The spirit of the wood hides in pitchy night
Staring at the damage, there is no taking it back
 
"Why would you let this be your legacy, America?" it queried
"I wish this miserable red mess would wake to a blue dream."
The last, best, chosen one went on speaking nonsense
The spirit of the wood wrote a Sedoka for a lost world
 
"These are the happiest days of our lives," the orange despot bellowed
Wagging tarnished silver tongue as the wind lifted his piss-blond hair
I wrote a message to my past self, an impotent warning
"I give you a gift wrapped in horror," it read.
"Although I fear that my words may be lost in translation."
 
"The people made a troublesome choice," I warned her.
my diseased and dying body smelling of wet cigarettes
"Will Mark's train come to collect me in the pitchy night?" I wondered.
"Will social distancing save us?
Or will we all wind up lying dead in a field of rotting pumpkins
As the crows and vultures pick the sun-dried flesh from our bones?"
 
Content coyright 2020 by Cara Hartley
 
Please do not repost
 
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it.
 
Sharing a link to the poem is acceptable.
 
Quoting portions of the poem for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
 
NaPoWriMo: Use a long poem by James Schuyler as a guidepost for your poem
 
April PAD Challenge: Write a remix poem
 
This work is cross-posted in these places:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
If you appreciate my poetry, please consider picking up a copy of my first published poetry volume, Another Autumn.
 

Rotting Pumpkin Sestina by Sly Fawkes

tRumpkin
Image copyright Deedster on Pixabay
https://pixabay.com/photos/pumpkins-halloween-trump-trumpkin-1580968/
This snarky Sestina is composed by Aunt Cie's snarkastic pundit alter-ego, Sly Fawkes.
I
with a brain like the inside of a rotting
pumpkin, Dear Leader 45 takes the stage
spouting out misleading misinformation
telling his audience to mainline Clorox
"It will kill the coronavirus," he says
"You just change the pH balance of your blood"
II
never mind that he knows nothing about blood
please ignore the fact that his mind is rotting
or that he is just a ham who loves the stage
spreading deadly lies and misinformation
you'll die shooting up an I.V. of Clorox
you should not ever trust what Pumpkinhead says
III
our Dear Leader with rotting pumpkin brains says
he thinks you should inject bleach in your blood
to make the coronavirus start rotting
please do not concern yourself about the stage
leading to death from his misinformation
coronavirus is not cured by Clorox
IV
you can wash dirty laundry using Clorox
please pay attention to what the label says
do not go injecting Clorox in your blood
for if you do, then you will soon be rotting
death can be anticipated at the stage
following Pumpkinhead's misinformation
V
a four-year onslaught of misinformation
the White House needs a good cleaning with Clorox
and since we can't trust what the red leader says
we need an injection of blue in the blood
this once-great country from within is rotting
get the pumpkin-headed ham off of the stage
VI
hopefully, we have come to the final stage
of daily ranting and misinformation
clean up the rotting pumpkin stains with Clorox
and really hear the words each candidate says
we can't let their charisma poison our blood
scandal addiction leaves our country rotting
VII
a scrubbing with Clorox
may relieve the rotting
it's time to clear the stage
~sly has spoken~
what does the fox say
Royalty-free image copyright Julia Henze purchased from 123rf.com
Content coyright 2020 by Cara Hartley
 
Please do not repost
 
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it.
 
Sharing a link to the poem is acceptable.
 
Quoting portions of the poem for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
 
NaPoWriMo: Write a poem about a fruit. I was initially going to compare Cheeto Stalin to the Annoying Orange but decided that a rotting pumpkin was more appropriate. 
 
A pumpkin is, in fact, a fruit. Here is a fun page that explains why.
 
April PAD Challenge: Write a nature poem. I may have done the reverse of this because the Rotting Pumpkin-Head in chief is utterly unnatural.
 
This work is cross-posted in these places:
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

Monday, April 20, 2020

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 20 + April PAD Challenge Day 20: A Gift Wrapped in Horror

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

could it be a gift
exposing social failings
in isolation
not everyone has to work
in external location

~sly has spoken~

image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com



NaPoWriMo Day 20: Write a poem about a gift

April PAD Challenge: Write an isolation poem

notes
I have felt for years that certain jobs could be done remotely. This would both reduce the amount of traffic on the road, resulting in reduced pollution and reduced stress levels, and would allow more disabled people the opportunity to work. I would like to think that maybe some companies will see the proverbial light and continue to have certain jobs be done remotely. I won't hold my breath, because experience says that people are stupid, apathetic, lazy, and generally evil, and I don't trust them to do the right thing.

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Thursday, April 16, 2020

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 16 + April PAD Challenge Day 16: The Last Best Chosen One

Image by David Bruyland from Pixabay

the last bigly best forever president
is a very stable genius, just ask him
"I am the chosen one," he says, looking up
he makes the best jokes, right?

"Trump is doing a very good job," he says
giving himself a gold star and Nobel prize
he is the best at complimenting himself
often in the third person

the last bigly best forever president
thinks he deserves a military parade
Kim Jong-un gets one, so when will Trump get his?
don't care how, he wants it now

the last bigly best forever president
knows everything that is going to happen
he was chosen by God to be the messiah
at least if you ask him

the last bigly best forever president
would not still be in office fucking things up
if Congress had the guts to remove his ass
impeachment means shit

~sly has spoken~

image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com



Tuesday, April 7, 2020

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 7 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 7 + April PAD Challenge Catch-Up Countdown Day 3: Hey Steve!

Steve Mnuchin, Secretary of Clueless Rich Bastards
Photo copyright Chip Somodevilla @ Getty Images

Steve Mnuchin is way out of touch
He thinks twelve hundred bucks is so much
If you pay rent you starve
If you eat you live in your car
Most folks don't have a fat money clutch

~sly has spoken~

image copyright juliahenze@123rf.com



notes
NaPoWriMo: write a poem about a news article

April PAD Challenge: Write a lucky or unlucky poem. Aren't we all ever so lucky to have our big-hearted and insightful Cousin Stevie looking out for our well-being?

April PAD Challenge Countdown Catch-Up Day 3: Write a response poem. This is Sly's response to Steve.

Steve's lurvely wife, Louise Linton, is a real feckless See You Next Tuesday. They're the perfect match made in hell.

I'm just gonna leave this here for reasons

Sunday, April 5, 2020

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 5 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 5 + April PAD Countdown Catch-Up Day 5: The Masque of the Orange Idiot

Image by John Hain from Pixabay

Like a pigeon from hell
The Red Death tripped the light fantastic in the door
To a nation helmed by a megalomaniac so wrapped up in himself
That he didn't hear it knocking
He didn't see it coming
He didn't smell the decay
Of the bodies lying in the streets
He was too busy tasting the saccharine
Of the lies he told himself
About how wonderful he was
To touch upon the truth
And so he heard the death knell
As a victory march
And his mind burst forth fireworks
In celebration of his assured triumph
Donald Trump, the despot monarch
Of the land of the freely dying
He said he didn't see this coming
Then argued that he always saw it coming
And took to Twitter to shitpost
Some stupid memes he cooked up
To magically distract from his cock-up
As the Red Death painted the town
King Don said the Red Death was all the fault
Of the Lamestream Media
And Hillary Clinton's emails
And Obama's microwave
Because they let the Chinese Virus
Come across the Mexican border
He emitted smoke from seven orifices 
Proclaiming he had other pussies to whip
So Nancy Pelosi better stop ironing his head
Raving narcissist lacking empathy
As stable as a sleeping volcano
Being rudely awakened
He flew through the corridors of the White House
Proclaiming "that ornery old lady Cie is a nasty woman"
"I will lock her up!" he cried
"She claims I am bigly responsible
For the Red Death dancing through the streets
But I will pound his ass into a quivering jelly
Because I am a very stable genius"
King Don continued ranting
Det ligger en hund begraven
There was no magic in this moment
The American flag dropped to the ground in despair
Night fell over the homeless sleeping in parking lots in Las Vegas

~sly has spoken~

image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com



notes
This poem was penned by my politically-minded alter-ego, Sly Fawkes
Here is the list of prompts followed to create this poem.

Also included are the prompt Moment (for April PAD Challenge Day 5) and Magic(for April PAD Countdown Catch-Up Day 5)

Begin the poem with a metaphor.
Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
Use a phrase from a language other than English.
Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.

Det ligger en hund begraven means "there's a dog buried here," a metaphor for someone not telling the complete truth.

Friday, April 3, 2020

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 3 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 3 + April PAD Countdown Catch-Up Day 7: Follow the Leader Down the Road to Hell

Image by John Hain from Pixabay

Follow Dear Leader
Down the road to hell
As he spouts lies and bullshit
Out both sides of his mouth

People are dying of a contagious disease
For which there is currently no cure
He advises us to pack the churches
Because apparently thoughts and prayers will make us immune

If only 100,000 people die
He will have done a really good job, he says
Do not be afraid, because
His ratings are better than The Bachelor's
And his ranking on Facebook is at an all-time high

Surely you will sleep better tonight knowing
That Dear Leader is tweeting in the third person
About his Bigly popularity
Just have a cup of covfefe and relax
Don the Con is in charge

~Sly Has Spoken~

Courtesy of my politically opinionated alter-ego Sly Fawkes
Image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com
Sly is feeling the Bern again
But she will vote blue no matter who



notes
The only prompt I followed today was the April PAD challenge prompt. I wasn't feeling the NaNoWriMo prompt and the day 7 PAD countdown prompt didn't quite fit.

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

NaPoWriMo 2020 Preview Poem: American Breakdown

Image by moonzigg from Pixabay

America, America, alas
the cracks in your facade are on display
how many dead when all has come to pass
how many dead because of the delay
addressing a disease that came to stay
you told us it would all be over soon
deluded jackass braying at the moon

~Sly~

Image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com
Sly and Snarky

notes
This Rhyme Royale was penned by my snarky political alter-ego Sly Fawkes with love to the village idiot currently occupying the White House--as much love as he deserves, anyway.

The prompt was to write a poem about my favorite birds. The bald eagle is one of my favorite birds. This one looks angry.


Friday, April 20, 2018

Shadorma: Get Sick and Die




Despite the
 Worst efforts of the
 New order
 To insure
 My early death, I live on
 And I will fight them

~The Real Cie~ 


Notes:
This piece was inspired by this post about the treatment of sick and poor people in Lord Dampnut's Amerikkka. As part of the working poor class, and as a disabled person, living in Lord Dampnut's Amerikkka is terrifying.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017: Day 22: Sad State of Affairs


There once was the worst politician
Who obtained the highest position
T'was a sad state of affairs
Instead of making repairs
To destroy everything was his mission

~Sly~




Notes:
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today was to write a Georgic.
This is not a Georgic.
It is a limerick.
Nonetheless, it was inspired by that prompt.

Cross-posted to:
Sly's Free Speech Space

Copyright juliahenze +123RF.com