Open call: Poetry competition!

For the next issue of my zine, I want to include some more poetry (it seemed to go down well last time I did this) and I thought it might be fun to ask the population of WATMM to help out.

So... If you fancy a chance of getting some poetry printed, please respond to this thread with your entry (or PM me if you prefer / wish to remain anon).

By entering you give me the right to republish it, yada yada....

Rough theme; SYNTHESIS

(interpret as you see fit)

No actual prizes other than getting written into my zine. Please include a handle / artist name and poem title if you want credit, otherwise anon.

Probably got 2 weeks max on this so don't hang about.

Length not important although shorter works will most likely get printed!

K thx

  Quote

 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

synthesis

penises

he's, his

ISIS

 

 

i'm truly sorry...

The act of creation

By SJ Tump

Headphones on, Lever up.

Nod to the beat, say wassup

I push, I twist!

Knobs knobs knobs!

Blinking and flashing

I think this bus is crashing.

Maybe I should stick to physical manifestations

Of engineering creations

"No"

There’s a red wheel barrow

Along the back fence

Overturned in the weeds and flowers

It’s a place I go

When I need to

dump out a pot of soup

  On 4/8/2019 at 1:10 AM, Stickfigger said:

No one is more special than me and I am no more special than feces.

We fuck for fun not to propagate lives of a dying species.

 

I'll sign my signature and draw a pattern in the sand when the wind blows the grains away to rearrange it's Gods hand.

One day when this electric brain will cease

The cells will separate to suffocate and we'll greet peace

 

LiFE IS SHIT AS A TEENAGER!

LIFE Is SHiT AS A TEENAGER!

hORMONeS PUMPinG!

iN MY PANtS ALWAYS A RAGER!

synthesizer, one, two, three

I have a schlong and it makes wee 

Dictaphone-Whisk by mcbpete

The other day Moira claimed to have invented the pop-shield -

You know, that thing that goes in front of microphones.

She says she thought of it to stop her husband Nigel spitting at her when he talks,

on account of his huge tongue that sort of wobbles in his mouth gregariously.

I called her a liar and said that people have been using them since before she was born.

She sulked and tripped over the dining-room table leg due to that clumsy rage-walk she does.

In the kitchen I heard shouting out combined names of various objects she could see in there -

Toaster-towel, Fridge-clock, Chair-socket, Butter-tap, Cheese-Foil....

She claims that's how she invented the pop-shield: "a synthesis of the stuff around me"

(Though how there was a medieval protective guard and a genre of music within close proximity I'm unsure).

I still think she's a liar, poor Nigel doesn't even have a tongue,

and what the hell would Cheese-Foil be anyway ?

watmm beat poetry slam for most IDM 2019

Ride on your high horse and reach for the skies

but don't fall off and lose feeling in your thighs

and be bound to a wheelchair

and a breathing apparatus

so you'll never be forgotten for your legendary status.

How will they remember you?

Will they build a bridge in your name?

Or try to cash in on your Hollywood fame.

Though Lex Luthor was bad, and Kryptonite made you weak

You'll always be remembered as flying head over feet.

- Ode to Superman

without feeling, the

   sound

turned opal shimmer

   waves

like dreams of glass and stone

tuned as thick hide

helps me

forget

  she protect

without feeling

General Election 1992

Oh an election all shite & deception

flops on an April day,

3 puppets hang (power's a love thang)

like weebles they wobble & sway.

Birds

Birds, birds,

augury by feathered wisps in whispering wilting skies, wait a sec, yes,

whiskey is tasty.

Birds, birds,

when they take a dump on your heart, ejaculate, ejaculate, hate, crate, late, fate, twat(e),

whiskey is tasty.

Birds, birds,

augury by crows, rooks, ravens & jackdaws, charcoal mirrors of morphine & diazepam, oxycodone's bathing oxytocin, wait a thousand lifetimes,

whiskey is tasty.

Birds, birds,

waifs of distilled depravity, as a word set teeth into silence, a silence that goes "................", so you can't hear fuck all except the fridge drone,

whiskey is tasty.

**LAST CALL**

Going to print very soon....