Write Me a Damn Poem
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Ah, fickle frickin' readers, commenting of a bleu cement moon and erstwhile concrete ingnorers of Jess Killmenow. Here you are, silent lurking, just beyond the skill of my feeble technology to hunt you down, laughing hysterically at my sparkling wit while I make cents if not sense or scents. A poem I write you, again, a poem for my silent invisible friends, or a stream of semi-consciousness, I'm mad, mad, crazy and psychotic, there's no one there. You are with your new boyfriend or your old girlfriend, wife, family, friends, while what have I got, hmmmmmm???? I, a fig meant for too dimentia, a cartoon, flat as two pancakes on the desert, folded on a piece of paper with your spent gum and destined only for the forgetful merciful darkness of the landfill, what matter I? Paper, crayon wax. What matter? What energy for that matter, or this, or THIS?
No, no, no, you don't care. You just use and abuse, use and abuse, blistering frictional abuse worse than any eraser, erasures spread like twisted ties across the floor, my skin a mass of erasure abrasion, upbraided by your careless overuse. Oh, please, please come back and use me again! Again and again and again! What a sickness it is! Oh, the humanity! Oh the reflected light that is me! The quantum mechanics of a cartoon!
Go ahead, import me into Photoshop and get out the smudge tool. I would, too, if I were you. Your treatment already straightens me. Yes I am straight! How dare you? Go ahead, stretch my face beyond all recognition. Smear me to oblivion. Change my gender. Make me a Golden Doodle. That's it. I'm sure you're happy now, you and your happy. Be happy. Go ahead. Make me hay, hey. Hey, you can be Jess Happynow!
Oh, sure, go ahead. Light the candles, make love. I'll just lie here in this book, marking your place for the next time she's or he's or it's gone and you're bored enough to seek me out, Jess Killmenow, the cartoon of last resort. If I was inflatable and had a mouth shaped like an "O" at least I'd be useful. Listen, if you want to be bored, I'll bore you. I'll bore you real good, believe me. I see you do.
Thanks a LOT, you ungrateful to the entertaining drawing, drawing on his meager existence to make you smile or wonder. What good am I? What is art?
This is what I want. I want all of you low-lifes to write me a poem, right here, right now. I know you've got one in you. If you don't, I'll help you out. I'll put one in you. Write me a poem, a fictional poem, making believe I am not worthless, as if - gasp! - you like me, as if you would actually call me on the phone and talk to me for five minutes to keep me from going insane. You would never do that. I've only given you my number about nine hundred times I can take a HINT. Nevermind you don't know the area code for Cartoonland.
If I jumped into the Seine, I could be insane in the Seine. But I'm sure it's been done, n'est pas, excuse my lack of Francophile.
So write me a goddam poem. It's the very least you can do, and I know from experience, you will do the absolute very least you can do. Thanks in advance. I'm turning my back now. When I turn around, I EXPECT TO SEE A POEM HERE!
(whisper) (thank you)
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Write Your Damn Poem Here
Where's my poem, dammit? Nobody listens.... :)
you are not as flat as you appear
you with a maelstrom of thoughts
violently circling inside your cardboard brain
I imagine you pull them through an orifice
(I won't tell you which)
with a crochet hook
and lay them on the page
strand by sticky strand
an endless supply of endless thoughts
ending in either a migraine or masterpiece
you are a poetic wonder
I wonder if you are sane
Now, see, you did that way too good. Everybody is going to be intimidated now :)
With your 2-D flute you make them dance
Like some Pied Piper and they’re in a trance
Those words just seem to come to life
At your bidding like some Ruth-like wife
Jess you might a cartoon be
And I like the back too – what I can see
But you have that awesome power you do
As you make those words dance to your tune!
My two-dimensional flute, very nice! I can really envision that. And words dancing, too. Thanks, Shalini!
orange
death by humor if not
by facade either way
you kill me everytime
and i join you, rapt, in
your two-dimensional
hell, or heaven, that's
more powerful than
the hippie-era Agent
and Tori's knickers
I'm in love
with a cartoon
of a man I'll never meet
of a man who will never be real
never to be touched or kissed
Oh, he is so lovely
I imagine him in my dreams
where he comes alive
we are entwined in passion
He is real, he does exist
His lips, his touch, oh
He is real
then I awaken
alone
Thank you, Master Cris! I'm not sure anything is more powerful than Tori's knickers! :)
Who says you'll never meet me, Sarra? :) Thank you!
We have met Jess, damn what a great dream!!! :)
Oh, that was you! Well, thank you very, very much again :)
i so the like the back of you, and i have written a poem, but as you are here feeling sorry for yourself you have not seen it, so maybe i will erase you from my memory... in loving memory so the story goes
I wanna see my poem. C'mon. :)
Just when I thought I had read it all. lol you are too funny
dori
Hey, well, if I don't get a poem, at least I get a laugh! Thanks, Dori!
LOLOLO! I have written you damn poem! hahahaha...I will post it today. :)
Ok then! Let's see my damn poem! :)
What else am I to want too do,
other than to cling to you?
Sometimes I wish I was a kangaroo,
with a pouch, and you my joey;
I'd keep you warm when it was snowy
(in Australia?), okay, so perhaps
a kangaroo in zoo,
maybe Chicago will do?
No, no, that will never do.
Think again, now I choose:
a praying mantis,
I'd eat you up
with lovely semantics,
but then you'd die,
and I would cry,
or at least I think I would,
feel so numb
no tears would come.
Hehe, I'm back. I posted Ponderosa.
Rob, what an excellent and perfect poem for Jess Killmenow! thank you
Raven, I'll check it out right away!!!! :)
First you say you want a smile
Then you say write you a poem
What about what I want?
Haiku to you!
very unusual but I enjoyed it.
Thank you, Queenbe. I have done well in the poem department here, wouldn't you say? My peeps really came through, yes they did!
Depressed dried husk of a man,
Crying out to virtual land,
Entertain me, make me laugh
Make me feel that you care.
Even if it isn't the real me that I share.
All I want is someone to acknowledge my existance.
If I have to I'll harangue you with persistence.
sort of Kerouac, your style. The book "Pomes all Sizes" he purposefully misspells "poems"...
I'm not a poet but I might say that you're the loveliest cartoon ever, and the smartest one too. I can picture you as a nice unkempt dude, chewing a cig and writing lazily! Is that right?
Never depressed I anymore am, nor a husk but still strong, yet not to longing immune, nor immune to beauty such as these lovely words of yours, IJM. Thank you
Very complimentary to compare me to an icon like Kerouac, Catwoman, thank you!
Shamel, my friend, the cigs went with negotiations and I maintain myself with some joy, though still unkempt around the edges, and I write rather frenetically, on my time so many claims. But lovely is as lovely does. Thanks so much for your warm and beautiful comment. :)
This would be a minimalist poem...
God you're slippery like oil! Everytime I corner you with a question, you answer me so eloquently!!! I love your hubs Jess. Glad to be your eager or meager reader... :) See, I can rhyme too....
Yay I got another damn poem! :) LOL
The man behind the drawing,
Is as real as can be,
With ability to release his passion,
Slowly setting him free.
He broke away from the norm,
And conservative styles,
And spread his wings,
To the open skies.
Full of ecstasy,
And bliss.
His shares with us,
His gentleness.
Free of inhibitions,
He candidly states,
His lusts,
his desires,
his cravings,
his mistakes.
He can only be,
Who he is,
And nothing more,
Or less.
He is a good friend,
I am glad to say.
And on that note,
I’d say I‘m blessed!
Wow, thank you, JJ. Your lovely poem really shows me true. I am obviously also very blessed. :)
Jess, I loved reading this...so much fun.
Glad you enjoyed it, Sherry! I had fun, too
If i kill Jesskillmenow,
I wonder --
will his fans cry out in sorrow?
Fazed and daunted,
will this page be forever haunted?
A cross i put on top of this hub.
Sticks and bricks,
I filed atop.
And me on a brink-
hiding beneath the sink.
If jesskillmenow comes back to life,
will he hunt my nick?
Happy Halloween Jess!
Yay, my first threat of actual erasure! Goldstring's got her Eberhard in hand. Wait, that doesn't sound quite right....
I like Poetlorrain's poem it captures the oneness and the emptiness at the same time. True minimalism at its lanconic peak!
Now here's another damn poem. :)
Madly coumadin here
fox locks Lovenox
but love is not a blood clot
nor a tulpa that haunts the drawers
of pomegranite poets hoping to appease
her almighty Aphrodite
but I am Marsian gal
or a red eyed cyclon
what do I know
about love?
Plus you've created this thing in my drawers with your thoughts. Where am I supposed to keep my socks and T-shirts now? Thanks for another damn poem, Raven! :)
Your Eberhard I have accepted.
On my monitor screen,
you i have tried to erase.
Back and forth,
up and down,--
silly me,
this cartoon guy just can't be erased!
Wait, that Eberhard must be fake!@
Trick or threat? :)
Flicking through the pages of Hub,..
I ran across a "great mind" I thought....
He seems worried
he seems sad
He seems angry but for what?...
What woes....
what worries does he have....
May be that no body likes him?...
Hmmm....
That's too bad....
He yells, he talks,he whispers in his thoughts
He has landed a landmine ; here at Hubs...
Be it by money, be it by writes, be it through friendships
far out of sight.....
He let's out his feelings...
his worries
his thoughts
while writing great writes here at the hubs...
worry not my cartoonish long distance friend ...
I'm sure all hubbers will stick with you to the end...
Goldstring you are priceless. Thank you.
That's one nice damn poem, Morewrite, thank you!
No problem.. Check out the new hub I just wrote inspired by you thanks...
Wow! I inspired someone :)
I'll go check it out RIGHT NOW!
Jess, forgive me I cannot give you a poem..I'm a horrible poet. You'll have to make do with my begging you to keep writing your wonderful bits that keep us all in stitches :) (See, I can't even rhyme!@)
Wait a minute, what rhymes with...? Thank you, Lissa! :)
LOL!! You big pomegranate chicken, don't worry the thing in your drawers needs to keep warm so it definitely needs socks!
hahaha!
I always wanted a pet. Thanks! :)
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GusTheRedneck says:
2 months ago
Jess - I used to think that I was the only one who was crazy. Thanks. You have relieved me of that idea. :-)))