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C C
Feb 5, 2020 09:49 PM
(This post was last modified: Feb 6, 2020 12:35 AM by C C.)
(Feb 4, 2020 05:50 PM)Zinjanthropos Wrote: (Feb 4, 2020 05:21 PM)Leigha Wrote: Has kind of a rap feel to it, Z.
Never thought that...lol. Actually the tune going through my head was the Oom-Pah-Pah song from the movie version of Oliver. I just changed the lyrics. I don’t watch Cold Case Files so the words aren’t well researched, just how I imagine the show I guess. Why Oliver? Don’t know. The tavern scene with Nancy singing while trying to protect the boy from Sykes has always been a favourite of mine.
Title-wise, I get that confused with the " oompa loompa" song of Willy Wonka.
https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/OlKccuS_ayk
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Zinjanthropos
Feb 6, 2020 12:31 AM
I’m pretty sure oom pah pah is a double entendre if you know what I mean. Oompa Loompa I’m not sure about....I think it means dwarflike but not sure.
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Leigha
Feb 10, 2020 04:57 AM
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Secular Sanity
Mar 31, 2020 03:56 PM
I could sense him coming as he’s done so many times before.
I could hear him tap-tap taping at my door.
His scent seeped in through the holes and the cracks.
"Time to get down to brass tacks."
I could hear his keys rattling the chain.
No-no-no, don’t touch me, I screamed in vain.
I didn’t recognize him. Something wasn’t right.
His cold hands reaching for me in the middle of the night.
It was unpleasant, no longer sweet.
He was pulling at my blankets tugging at my sheets.
I tried to resist, tried to fight,
but he was strong and his grip was tight.
He slurped up my sleep.
"Don’t make peep."
He covered my screams,
as I clawed at my dreams.
He forced his way in. I couldn’t keep him out.
It was him, Reality, no doubt.
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Zinjanthropos
Mar 31, 2020 07:47 PM
(This post was last modified: Apr 1, 2020 12:05 AM by Zinjanthropos.)
Describing the room I'm in right now just for something to do. See if I can make a poem out of it.
There's a black vinyl chair
It's sitting on wheels
I'm currently in it
Floor touching my heels
A PC, a router,
Screen in between
My cell phone, two notebooks
Blood pressure machine?
A desk made of plastic,
Metal and glass
Epson top shelf
Some wires, some brass
Empty ink cartridges
One full in a box
Paper in printer
An absence of clocks
One lonely zip drive
My favourite pen
Old invoice to pay
In a 10 by 12 den
Laminate flooring
Brown paint every wall
Closet's white doors
About 6 feet tall
Artwork's been hung,
Waxy wicks on a canvas
Four paintings of flora
Like nobody else has
Mirror hangs lonely,
Three candles on brackets
A memoir of Oma
Potpourri packets
In the corner a table,
Photos for looks
Shelves are behind me
With some science books
My window is closed
Open white blind
Beige curtains as well
That’s all I can find.
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Secular Sanity
Mar 31, 2020 10:47 PM
Not bad, Zinman. I'm a minimalist. Mine would be short. I loved this one.
https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/sP40WX-nRcU
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Zinjanthropos
Apr 1, 2020 12:13 AM
(Mar 31, 2020 10:47 PM)Secular Sanity Wrote: Not bad, Zinman. I'm a minimalist. Mine would be short. I loved this one.
https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/sP40WX-nRcU
Great stuff. Feel inspired but it’s a mood thing for me. When time is right I’ll take a run at the virus.
In case anyone wondering why I mentioned a blood pressure machine it’s because doc had asked me to log BP readings for 10 days as a prerequisite to having a prescription refilled. Just talked with her today by phone, didn’t have to go to her thanks to virus. I’m good for another year.
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Leigha
Apr 1, 2020 03:48 AM
(Mar 31, 2020 03:56 PM)OSecular Sanity Wrote: I could sense him coming as he’s done so many times before.
I could hear him tap-tap taping at my door.
His scent seeped in through the holes and the cracks.
"Time to get down to brass tacks."
I could hear his keys rattling the chain.
No-no-no, don’t touch me, I screamed in vain.
I didn’t recognize him. Something wasn’t right.
His cold hands reaching for me in the middle of the night.
It was unpleasant, no longer sweet.
He was pulling at my blankets tugging at my sheets.
I tried to resist, tried to fight,
but he was strong and his grip was tight.
He slurped up my sleep.
"Don’t make peep."
He covered my screams,
as I clawed at my dreams.
He forced his way in. I couldn’t keep him out.
It was him, Reality, no doubt. I really like this, SS. Gripping, which isn’t easy to do with poetry.
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Secular Sanity
Apr 1, 2020 01:08 PM
(Apr 1, 2020 03:48 AM)Leigha Wrote: I really like this, SS. Gripping, which isn’t easy to do with poetry.
Thanks, wegs.
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C C
Apr 2, 2020 09:51 PM
(This post was last modified: Apr 2, 2020 09:55 PM by C C.)
(Apr 1, 2020 03:48 AM)Leigha Wrote: I really like this, SS. Gripping, which isn’t easy to do with poetry.
Ditto.
(Mar 31, 2020 07:47 PM)Zinjanthropos Wrote: Describing the room I'm in right now just for something to do. See if I can make a poem out of it.
If not for accusations of cultural appropriation, you could be on stage or in youtube studio presentations doing spontaneous, ad lib rap-music (dates back to the '70s, so there are old-timers now, not just a yutes thing). Some of those guys start out looking down at their shoes or anything, as an initial trigger for inspiration.
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