Discussion:
Watermelon Gut, a sequel
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n***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 01:27:16 UTC
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Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)

I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.

Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.

This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.

And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.

But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um

And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.

What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter

And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.

Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.

Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.

My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.

I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.

My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.

But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
Stephan Pickering
2017-11-13 01:43:22 UTC
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This is plagiarism from a cybertroll

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH
Stephan Pickering
2017-11-13 05:03:53 UTC
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This is plagiarism by a cyberstalking paedophile who, 15 August 2017, lost custody of his 3 children for neglect/abuse, and hides behind multiple IPs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBAL
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 05:33:53 UTC
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Post by Stephan Pickering
This is plagiarism
The original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

by a cyberstalking paedophile who, 15 August 2017, lost custody of his 3 children for neglect/abuse, and hides behind multiple IPs
Post by Stephan Pickering
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
r***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 07:43:59 UTC
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What a masterpiece, Nancy.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 07:48:38 UTC
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Post by r***@gmail.com
What a masterpiece
Why, thank you, "River Mutant" (love that name, btw, since it is mine, after all) since I actually wrote it.

The original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

:)
r***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 08:06:14 UTC
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Will, you’re nothing but a hacking troll.
You’re just pathetic and the butt of so many jokes.
Will Dockery
2017-11-14 01:15:01 UTC
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I come here
For one reason only, to obsess over "Will Dockery".

Anyone can see it, why not admit it?

:)
c***@gmail.com
2017-11-14 03:01:08 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
I come here
For one reason only, to obsess over "Will Dockery".
Anyone can see it, why not admit it?
:)
I prefer a "watermelon gut" to a "watermelon moon" -- "gut" is lower class slang, but mooning people is naughty.
Will Dockery
2017-11-21 22:08:47 UTC
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lips have been firmly attached to
little penis
Is that your confession or your fantasy, "Brooke"?

:)
Me
2017-11-21 22:42:41 UTC
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I don’t see that about Brooke? Anyone else?
Will Dockery
2018-01-09 21:10:27 UTC
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Post by Me
I don’t see that
Anyone else?
Stupid little troll, there's plenty you never see, because you're too
ignorant to look.

:)
n***@gmail.com
2018-01-09 21:39:18 UTC
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Time to bump up and re-admire the poem that was the basis for this thread, an epic masterpiece comparable to the Iliad.

Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)

I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.

Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.

This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.

And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.

But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um

And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.

What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter

And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.

Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.

Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.

My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.

I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.

My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.

But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
Will Dockery
2018-01-09 21:43:54 UTC
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Good National Lampoon style satire, Nancy.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-22 00:06:20 UTC
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Post by c***@gmail.com
mooning people is naughty.
"Sex is dirty it it's done right." -Woody Allen
Will Dockery
2017-11-21 22:01:42 UTC
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Typical Brooke spew ignored and deleted, as always, more malicious yet
obvious lies from the anonymous stalker that calls itself "Brooke".
And so it goes...
Nice job of "ignoring" and "deleting"
Your post is gone and was ignored, so I'd say it was a darned good job.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-12-01 18:35:14 UTC
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Yet the question still remains.
What is the big difference in the thought crimes of Allen Ginsberg
from Charles Bukowski?
I am a fan of both poets from over 40 years, but both have shown
questionable preferences in sexual haits... to say the very least.
You dig?
Both were, IMHO, two of the worst, and most overrated, poets of the
past 150 years. And both were, by all accounts, reprehensible human
beings as well. As to their alleged sexual habits ... trash is trash.
Dispose of it.
And my point is both poets, while well established as two of the
greatest, had just about equally, I will admit, perverted, real life
sexual desires.
Just about the only difference in the two is Ginsberg focused on young
guys and Bukowski focused on little girls.
One can't logically condemn one while defending the other is my point.
You act as though I'd defended one of them. I detest both Ginsberg and
Bukowski equally. I detest their so-called poetry, and from what little I
know of their pedophilia, I detest them equally as individuals. I'd be
happy to burn them both in effigy, using every known copy of their
writings as kindling.
Which low-life pseudo-poet do you think I've been defending?
No, if you scroll back to the August posts, it was Jim Senetto who defended
Buk while condemning Ginsberg.

Apologies for that confusion, I am well aware of your dislike of just about
all "Modern Poetry", Pendragon.

Bukowski has always been a well known favorite poet of Jim's, though. If
you'll read earlier posts Jim sort of says Buk was just joking around, or
something.

:)
Will Dockery
2018-01-09 21:08:52 UTC
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Post by r***@gmail.com
Will, you’re nothing
Yet you care so much to take the time to insist on that, meanwhile obsessing
over my every move.

No, I've posted recent photographs of myself, so do what you know you wanna,
splooge yourself.

;)
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 20:33:00 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
You're not getting a lot of practice in here
in the group
Yes I am, my dear friend Corey, why just last month I wrote two sonnets.

Here's the link to one of them:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/vXEe3-YfUJY/44itYUtIBgAJ

At The Taco Stand / a poem by Will Dockery
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 20:41:06 UTC
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That's not helpful, nor are you,
as if that were something new.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 20:47:18 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
That's not helpful, nor are you,
as if that were something new.
Here, this should help, Hi.

Here is a link to the original "Watermelon Moon" poem:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

HTH & HAND.
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 20:50:59 UTC
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I can't see how that's supposed to
help me. Please explain, if you can.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 20:53:56 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
I can't see how that's supposed to
help me.
Speaking of which, who are you trying to help here, Corey?

Because it sure ain't me, pal.

:)
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 22:13:05 UTC
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How can you possibly think I haven't been helpful to you?
Every post I've made to you today has been honest and
intended for your benefit. It's not my fault if you don't get
as much from my posts as you could, or that others do.
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 10:21:02 UTC
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Parody isn't plagiarism, Pickering.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 14:59:35 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Parody isn't plagiarism, Pickering.
Not a "sequel", either, as Nancy described her satire.

Here's the original for comparison:

Watermelon Moon

I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.

Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.

This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.

And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.

But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.

And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.

What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.

And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.

Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.

Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?

Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.

Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?

Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.

With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.

-Will Dockery / written May 1976

Thanks for your interest, Corey.

:)
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 17:40:41 UTC
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You're very welcome, Will. Happy to help.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 17:44:25 UTC
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You're a great guy, Corey.

Brother Dave is wearing the Amish Mafia T-shirt you gave him... fond memories all around for you down this way.

😀
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 17:53:46 UTC
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Just trying to be helpful, that's all.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 17:59:16 UTC
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h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 18:02:08 UTC
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Thanks, that's nice, but unfortunately it doesn't help me.
Will Dockery
2017-11-29 08:59:27 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Thanks, that's nice, but unfortunately it doesn't help me.
Another worthless post due to lack of context.
Will Dockery
2019-04-18 20:19:35 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Thanks, that's nice, but unfortunately it doesn't help me.
Although you claim to be a superior writer, this sentence lacks context or
quotingm thus the writing is worthless as archival material.
Hieronymous Corey
2019-04-18 20:20:47 UTC
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Thanks, that's nice, but unfortunately it doesn't help me.
Will Dockery
2018-01-13 02:06:37 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Just trying to be helpful, that's all.
And thank you for reading and commenting.

:)
Will Dockery
2018-01-13 02:08:04 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
You're very welcome, Will. Happy to help.
See there, "What's so funny about peace love and understanding?"

:)
Me
2018-01-13 11:30:38 UTC
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Nancy, just having another quick read of your phenomenonal poem.
Your way with words is astounding. You can almost hear his retching into the Hooch!
Great work Nancy!!
m***@gmail.com
2018-01-14 05:24:47 UTC
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Post by Me
Nancy, just having another quick read of your phenomenonal poem.
Your way with words is astounding. You can almost hear his retching into the Hooch!
Great work Nancy!!
It is, indeed. The humor is LOL funny, but barely hidden beneath it is the tragedy of a loser lost in the narcissistic back alleys of self-absorption and delusion. (No offense, Will -- I'm reviewing it as though it were about a fictional character.) More importantly, there's an overall feeling to it that is both poetic and beautiful. An excellent work all around.
ME
2018-01-14 05:38:47 UTC
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Pen, I completely agree with your critique.
Will Dockery
2018-01-14 05:47:22 UTC
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Post by m***@gmail.com
It is, indeed. The humor is LOL funny, but barely hidden beneath it is the tragedy of a loser lost in the narcissistic back alleys of self-absorption and delusion. (No offense, Will -- I'm reviewing it as though it were about a fictional character.) More importantly, there's an overall feeling to it that is both poetic and beautiful. An excellent work all around.
Yes, I view it as satire on the cutting, National Lampoon edge... did you ever catch any of those outrageous humor magazines they put out in the 1970s?

I almost think they wouldn't be allowed to publish material like that in these modern times.

https://mollylehman.wordpress.com/literary-criticism/is-nothing-sacred/

"Satire can best be examined as the interaction of three entities, which Simpson has called the satirized, the satirer, and the satiree (8). The satirized is the “victim” of the work, or the institution or individual being targeted; the satirer is the work’s producer or author; and the satiree is the audience to whom the work is directed..."

"If, for instance, the audience identifies and sympathizes with the object being targeted and ridiculed, the author will face considerable difficulty in eliciting a positive response from its members. The nature of the satire itself also has the capacity to change the audience’s response and position. If the author offers a satire that is perceived as cruel, obnoxious, or unfair, for instance, the audience will often draw closer to the object in freshly felt sympathy, as a reactionary protest against unwarranted satiric attack. Successful satire, on the other hand, will result if the audience sympathizes with its sentiments and finds it relevant and justified. These satires may function to strengthen the bond between author and audience or weaken the bond between audience and object..."
ME
2018-01-14 05:51:54 UTC
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Waaa waaa waaa. What a fucking crybaby you are will.
Shut the fuck up.
Will Dockery
2018-01-14 05:55:43 UTC
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I agreed it was good satire, "Me".

Slow down and try to comprehend.

😀
n***@gmail.com
2018-01-14 16:34:06 UTC
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We thank Me and Michael for their generous praise for our Watermelon Gut poem. That one was fun to write and flowed easily. Will, you should read the poem again for insights and lessons pointed directly at you.
Post by m***@gmail.com
Post by Me
Nancy, just having another quick read of your phenomenonal poem.
Your way with words is astounding. You can almost hear his retching into the Hooch!
Great work Nancy!!
It is, indeed. The humor is LOL funny, but barely hidden beneath it is the tragedy of a loser lost in the narcissistic back alleys of self-absorption and delusion. (No offense, Will -- I'm reviewing it as though it were about a fictional character.) More importantly, there's an overall feeling to it that is both poetic and beautiful. An excellent work all around.
s***@gmail.com
2018-01-14 16:40:57 UTC
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Post by n***@gmail.com
We thank Me and Michael for their generous praise for our Watermelon Gut poem. That one was fun to write and flowed easily. Will, you should read the poem again for insights and lessons pointed directly at you.
Post by m***@gmail.com
Post by Me
Nancy, just having another quick read of your phenomenonal poem.
Your way with words is astounding. You can almost hear his retching into the Hooch!
Great work Nancy!!
It is, indeed. The humor is LOL funny, but barely hidden beneath it is the tragedy of a loser lost in the narcissistic back alleys of self-absorption and delusion. (No offense, Will -- I'm reviewing it as though it were about a fictional character.) More importantly, there's an overall feeling to it that is both poetic and beautiful. An excellent work all around.
Shalom & Boker tov...a new name for NaziGene: JennaTalia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
NancyGene
2019-04-18 20:37:26 UTC
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Post by n***@gmail.com
We thank Me and Michael for their generous praise for our Watermelon Gut poem. That one was fun to write and flowed easily. Will, you should read the poem again for insights and lessons pointed directly at you.
Post by m***@gmail.com
Post by Me
Nancy, just having another quick read of your phenomenonal poem.
Your way with words is astounding. You can almost hear his retching into the Hooch!
Great work Nancy!!
It is, indeed. The humor is LOL funny, but barely hidden beneath it is the tragedy of a loser lost in the narcissistic back alleys of self-absorption and delusion. (No offense, Will -- I'm reviewing it as though it were about a fictional character.) More importantly, there's an overall feeling to it that is both poetic and beautiful. An excellent work all around.
What a wonderful poem we wrote! Again, much better than Will's material.
Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
2019-04-18 20:39:29 UTC
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On Thursday, April 18, 2019 at 1:37:27 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene's delusional gift...
What a wonderful poem we wrote! Again, much better than Will's material.



STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
לעולם לא אשכח

IN PROGRESS: Shabtai Zisel ben A
Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
2019-07-17 02:24:54 UTC
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Post by NancyGene
What a wonderful poem we wrote! Again, much better than Will's material.
Shalom & Erev tov, everyone...NaziQueene is hiding behind various fake addresses...



STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
לעולם לא אשכח

IN PROGRESS: Shabtai Zisel ben Avraham v'Rachel Riva:
davening in t
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-17 03:38:36 UTC
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Post by Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
Post by NancyGene
What a wonderful poem we wrote! Again, much better than Will's material.
Shalom & Erev tov, everyone...NaziQueene is hiding behind various fake addresses...
So... yesterday I remind you of the documented and archived (by the Syracuse University Library, no less!) evidence of your having spent at least the first 8 years of the 1960s in Bakersfield, CA (as opposed to your claims of Toronto and Israel) and you... having had your own fake addresses publicly exposed turn around and project your own public shaming onto NancyGene?

Could you possibly be more delusional?

Michael Pendragon
“Pulling at the skin flaps on yourself will never grow a penis...or brain tissue.”
-- Stephen “Lady Pickles” Pickering, the voice of experience
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 15:13:43 UTC
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The parody is better written than the original.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 15:21:19 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
The parody is
<snip>

I don't know, I didn't read the "parody" or satire. The original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

Thanks for your interest, Hi.

:)
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 15:28:03 UTC
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You're very welcome. Happy to help.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 15:44:44 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
You're very welcome. Happy to help.
If you say so...

The original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

:)
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 15:48:41 UTC
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I do, and it's my pleasure, even when people
obviously don't appreciate the help they're given.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 15:50:55 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
I do, and it's my pleasure, even when people
obviously don't appreciate the help they're given.
Who are you trying to "help", here?
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 15:56:49 UTC
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Anybody who can, and is willing to read both Watermellon poems.
If a writer's wit and intelligence is reflected in their writing, then the
parody is obviously much better written than the original in terms of
syntax, sentence structure and word choice. Since you didn't read
the parody, you wouldn't know that, but others might be helped.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 16:04:22 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
If a writer's wit and intelligence
<snip>

Not to mention originality in the creation of the piece in the first place, and let's make it clear that there's no dispute there that I created this work, right?

The original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

That's the real thing, all others are pale imitations.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 19:36:02 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
I help myself by helping others.
That's my philosophy, also.

:)
--
"Watermelon Moon" / a poem by Will Dockery:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

--
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 19:43:41 UTC
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Practice your philosophy.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 19:52:51 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Practice your philosophy.
Getting in a lot of practice here, at least three days a wee

Music and poetry of Will Dockery -

https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery:
Will Dockery
2017-11-29 09:02:31 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Practice your philosophy.
I do, every day.
m***@gmail.com
2017-11-29 13:24:11 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Post by h***@gmail.com
Practice your philosophy.
I do, every day.
Will, do you realize that you've just reopened a thread that ended just over a week ago -- solely to attempt to antagonize Corey into a fight?

Why would you possibly want to do this?

What purpose do you hope to achieve by rekindling a flame war that had burnt itself out?

Is this a desperate ploy to divert attention from yourself? Or from your nutjob, pedotroll friend, Pickering?

Or is this just a pathological need for attention?
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-29 13:36:59 UTC
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Permalink
I no fight.
I go run.
I no write.
Run so fun.
Bye, bye, Mike.
See you later,
when I be like
a couch potater.
Will Dockery
2017-11-29 13:42:10 UTC
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Permalink
Post by h***@gmail.com
I no fight.
I go run.
I no write.
Run so fun.
Bye, bye, Mike.
See you later,
when I be like
a couch potater.
Not true, Corey...

I don't want to fight with you, or anybody.

:)
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-29 16:05:34 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by h***@gmail.com
I no fight.
I go run.
I no write.
Run so fun.
Bye, bye, Mike.
See you later,
when I be like
a couch potater.
Not true, Corey...
I don't want to fight with you, or anybody.
:)
I wrote that, but not to you,
and every word of it is true,
so if you feel you have to lie
down, the ground is soft and dry.
Will Dockery
2017-11-29 13:45:13 UTC
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Permalink
Post by m***@gmail.com
attempt to antagonize Corey into a fight
I'm not doing that, Michael.

I was on the Eternal-September newsreader, and when there I just go down the list, batting out responses to posts I missed earlier.

No big deal, just another way of posting, for me.
Me
2017-11-29 13:49:53 UTC
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Bull Shit will.
m***@gmail.com
2017-11-29 16:24:41 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Post by m***@gmail.com
attempt to antagonize Corey into a fight
I'm not doing that, Michael.
I was on the Eternal-September newsreader, and when there I just go down the list, batting out responses to posts I missed earlier.
No big deal, just another way of posting, for me.
Yeah, it's called "trolling."

We know.
b***@gmail.com
2017-11-29 16:29:09 UTC
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He's attempting to deflect from the main topic, his being exposed, once again, as a lying troll/bully.
u***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 08:08:52 UTC
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Post by n***@gmail.com
Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.
Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.
And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.
But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um
And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.
What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter
And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.
Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.
Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.
My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.
I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.
My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.
But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
Awesome original work noted and archived!
George J. Dance
2017-11-13 20:33:46 UTC
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Post by u***@gmail.com
Post by n***@gmail.com
Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
<trashsnip>
Post by u***@gmail.com
Awesome original work noted and archived!
Wonderful news. Can you give us a link, so we can read it, too?
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 20:39:58 UTC
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Post by George J. Dance
<trashsnip>
Post by u***@gmail.com
Awesome original work noted and archived!
Wonderful news. Can you give us a link, so we can read it, too?
Right here, George, the original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

And... soon to be released as part of the "Earlier Poems of Will Dockery" paperback, to rest on my knee...

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 08:14:39 UTC
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And here you are, "River Mutant", sniffing and slobbering over my every move just like the good little obsesso that you are.

Keep it up, little troll...

You know you can't help yourself.

😀
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 10:03:16 UTC
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This is both funny and poignant.
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 16:09:05 UTC
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To my knowledge, no. Nobody is disputing your original creation.
Of course, the parody poem is just as original as your creation.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 16:16:04 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Nobody is disputing your original creation.
That's good.

The original, "Watermelon Moon", can be found here:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

Soon to be collected in the "Earlier Poems" volume.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 18:05:35 UTC
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Are you looking for help, Hi?

😀
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 18:18:36 UTC
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Help doesn't require looking for.
I help myself by helping others.
drive-by
2017-11-13 18:23:27 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Help doesn't require looking for.
I help myself by helping others.
whack-a-mole1
/ˈwakəˌmōl/
noun
an arcade game in which players use a mallet to hit toy moles, which appear at random, back into their holes:
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 18:29:48 UTC
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Permalink
You know, the only reason you repeat
the whack a mole routine is because
you're afraid to deal with me directly,
intelligently, openly and honestly, Jim.
Will Dockery
2017-11-29 09:00:44 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
You know, the only reason you repeat
the whack a mole routine is because
you're afraid to deal with me directly,
intelligently, openly and honestly, Jim.
More likely Jim was just tired of your worthless postings at that time.
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 18:25:49 UTC
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Deleting your posts behind mine doesn't help you, Will.
Will Dockery
2017-11-29 09:01:33 UTC
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Deleting your posts behind mine doesn't help you, Will.
The posts are still on Usenet anyhow, Corey.

:)
Richard Oakley
2017-11-13 19:18:33 UTC
Reply
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Post by n***@gmail.com
Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.
Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.
And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.
But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um
And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.
What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter
And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.
Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.
Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.
My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.
I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.
My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.
But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
You know why
shit gets views?

‘cause it stinks.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 19:41:49 UTC
Reply
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Post by Richard Oakley
You know why
shit gets views?
‘cause it stinks.
Plus, you skip the legit posts to respond to this.

Here is a link to the original "Watermelon Moon" poem:

https://groups.google.com/d/msg/alt.arts.poetry.comments/6y437zWEPU4/ry5ErxDwAAAJ

Comments and critique are welcomed, there.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 19:56:59 UTC
Reply
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Post by h***@gmail.com
Practice your philosophy.
Getting in a lot of practice here, at least three days a week.

Music and poetry of Will Dockery -

https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery:
h***@gmail.com
2017-11-13 20:04:38 UTC
Reply
Permalink
You're not getting a lot of practice in here
in the group. Somebody took the time and
effort to write a parody of your poem, and
did a reasonably good job of it. You do both
yourself and them a disservice by not reading
it and showing appreciation, not to mention
demonstrate a complete lack of humor about
yourself and work. How many extra clicks do
you think your link gets by virtue of repeated
posting? You don't help yourself very much.
NancyGene
2019-07-16 20:29:20 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Time to bump up this classic poem, since the topic is of such great interest on AAPC.

Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
by NancyGene

I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.

Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.

This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.

And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.

But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um

And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.

What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter

And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.

Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.

Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.

My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.

I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.

My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.

But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.

---

This should definitely be on Instagram.
Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
2019-07-16 21:35:12 UTC
Reply
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On Tuesday, July 16, 2019 at 1:29:21 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene is not female, but a fraud, liar, plagiarist...
Post by NancyGene
This should definitely be on Instagram.
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
לעולם לא אשכח

IN PROGRESS: Shabtai Zisel ben Avr
NancyGene
2019-07-17 11:01:05 UTC
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Post by Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
On Tuesday, July 16, 2019 at 1:29:21 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene is not female,
That would be a surprise to our friends and family. IOW, you have no idea who we are. What happened to all the legal proceedings that you had started? Did your mail-order lawyer abandon you? He lives in your mind along with fake children, licenses, books and scholarship.
ME
2019-07-17 11:53:55 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by NancyGene
Post by Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
On Tuesday, July 16, 2019 at 1:29:21 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene is not female,
That would be a surprise to our friends and family. IOW, you have no idea who we are. What happened to all the legal proceedings that you had started? Did your mail-order lawyer abandon you? He lives in your mind along with fake children, licenses, books and scholarship.
I think I’ll post my responses to pissbum on this thread today.
Bumping his threads to the top by responding to his stupid and idiotic post, isn’t something I wish to do. It would be doing exactly what little willy piss pants wants us to do.

Just saying............
ME
2019-07-17 12:01:40 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by ME
Post by NancyGene
Post by Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
On Tuesday, July 16, 2019 at 1:29:21 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene is not female,
That would be a surprise to our friends and family. IOW, you have no idea who we are. What happened to all the legal proceedings that you had started? Did your mail-order lawyer abandon you? He lives in your mind along with fake children, licenses, books and scholarship.
I think I’ll post my responses to pissbum on this thread today.
Bumping his threads to the top by responding to his stupid and idiotic post, isn’t something I wish to do. It would be doing exactly what little willy piss pants wants us to do.
Just saying............
————————-
Pissbum:
That doesn't change the fact that his poem "is not very good"... that judgement would be the same whether I existed or not.
———————————-

You really are that stupid, aren’t you, pissbum.
Any way you can gain attention is better than being ignored, according to you.
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-17 13:18:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by ME
Post by NancyGene
Post by Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
On Tuesday, July 16, 2019 at 1:29:21 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene is not female,
That would be a surprise to our friends and family. IOW, you have no idea who we are. What happened to all the legal proceedings that you had started? Did your mail-order lawyer abandon you? He lives in your mind along with fake children, licenses, books and scholarship.
I think I’ll post my responses to pissbum on this thread today.
Bumping his threads to the top by responding to his stupid and idiotic post, isn’t something I wish to do. It would be doing exactly what little willy piss pants wants us to do.
Just saying............
I think you're mistaken about Pissbum, ME.

He's stupid (okay, he's beyond stupid), but he's not stupid enough to believe that bumping threads has any significance.

What he's really doing is throwing a tantrum.

If any of us ask him, however politely, to refrain from any of his annoying, repetitive and unimaginative comments, practices, etc., he responds by stamping his foot and declaring that he will do whatever he darn well pleases. And he will proceed to back up his claim by committing the same offense with increased frequency.

This is a childish (toddlerish?) power play wherein Pissbum's inner child receives satisfaction by saying "I won't stop! You can't make me stop!" and proving beyond any and all doubt that he is, in fact, correct. No one can make him stop.

It doesn't matter how much one reasons with him, or how much one mocks him. He will not be told what he can and cannot do -- and he will not be silenced.

He bumps his threads because we have all complained about his having bumped his threads in the past. And the more we complain, the more threads will be bumped.

Having failed in life, Pissbum feeds on the false sense of power he derives from our collective inability to silence him here -- or even to get him to stop reposting the same inane "poetry" and comments over and over again.

There is no way to stop him.

As long as he or his Bunny sock makes the final post (or posts) in given thread, he has "won." We have failed to silence him.

Nor does it make the slightest bit of difference whether we respond to his posts or ignore them. He will continue doing whatever we'd asked him to stop (or cut back on) regardless; because each time he does, he proves that he makes his own rules; that he is in command of his life; that he is the all-powerful Ayn-Randian hero whose indomitable will cannot be bent.

After which, he passes out in a drunken stupor in his brother's shed.


Michael Pendragon
“Hard to miss that he generally considered you [Will Dockery] to be an illiterate oaf - indeed. It's was probably due to your constant display of... the opinions of a dishonest ignoramus who scribbles unspeakable shit.”
-- Rafael Corazon
Will Dockery
2019-07-17 19:18:27 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by ME
Post by NancyGene
Post by Chafetz Chayim ha'Yehu'di
On Tuesday, July 16, 2019 at 1:29:21 PM UTC-7, NaziQueene is not female,
That would be a surprise to our friends and family. IOW, you have no idea who we are. What happened to all the legal proceedings that you had started? Did your mail-order lawyer abandon you? He lives in your mind along with fake children, licenses, books and scholarship.
I think I’ll post my responses to pissbum on this thread today.
Bumping his threads to the top by responding to his stupid and idiotic post, isn’t something I wish to do. It would be doing exactly what little willy piss pants wants us to do.
Just saying............
I think you're mistaken about Pissbum, ME.
He's stupid (okay, he's beyond stupid), but he's not stupid enough to believe that bumping threads has any significance.
What he's really doing is throwing a tantrum.
If any of us ask him, however politely, to refrain from any of his annoying, repetitive and unimaginative comments, practices, etc., he responds by stamping his foot and declaring that he will do whatever he darn well pleases. And he will proceed to back up his claim by committing the same offense with increased frequency.
This is a childish (toddlerish?) power play wherein Pissbum's inner child receives satisfaction by saying "I won't stop! You can't make me stop!" and proving beyond any and all doubt that he is, in fact, correct. No one can make him stop.
It doesn't matter how much one reasons with him, or how much one mocks him. He will not be told what he can and cannot do -- and he will not be silenced.
He bumps his threads because we have all complained about his having bumped his threads in the past. And the more we complain, the more threads will be bumped.
Having failed in life, Pissbum feeds on the false sense of power he derives from our collective inability to silence him here -- or even to get him to stop reposting the same inane "poetry" and comments over and over again.
There is no way to stop him.
As long as he or his Bunny sock makes the final post (or posts) in given thread, he has "won." We have failed to silence him.
Nor does it make the slightest bit of difference whether we respond to his posts or ignore them. He will continue doing whatever we'd asked him to stop (or cut back on) regardless; because each time he does, he proves that he makes his own rules; that he is in command of his life; that he is the all-powerful Ayn-Randian hero whose indomitable will cannot be bent.
After which, he passes out in a drunken stupor in his brother's shed.
Michael Pendragon
“Hard to miss that he generally considered you [Will Dockery] to be an illiterate oaf - indeed. It's was probably due to your constant display of... the opinions of a dishonest ignoramus who scribbles unspeakable shit.”
-- Rafael Corazon
Spot on, Pendragon.
ME
2019-07-21 18:18:58 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by n***@gmail.com
Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.
Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.
And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.
But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um
And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.
What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter
And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.
Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.
Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.
My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.
I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.
My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.
But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
==================
Michael:

I think you're mistaken about Pissbum, ME.


No, I’m not Michael.
Bumping himself to to top of the list, no matter how sad and pathetic his behavior must become, that’s his main objective here.
He demands and agitates until all attention is on or about him.
But you’re entitled to your opinion.
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-21 19:39:54 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by ME
Post by n***@gmail.com
Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.
Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.
And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.
But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um
And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.
What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter
And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.
Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.
Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.
My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.
I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.
My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.
But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
==================
I think you're mistaken about Pissbum, ME.
No, I’m not Michael.
Bumping himself to to top of the list, no matter how sad and pathetic his behavior must become, that’s his main objective here.
He demands and agitates until all attention is on or about him.
But you’re entitled to your opinion.
It's true that bumping his posts seems to be both his and his Bunnysock's sole avocation in life, but as I've noted, it's not so much about receiving attention as it is about asserting his power.

Pissbum and Pissbunny are at the absolute lowest rungs of the social ladder. I mean... they're bums, for cryin' out loud. People who pass them on the street do so with an averted eye and a quickened gait.

The semi-anonymity of the internet cuts through many of the social barriers and prejudices that they are confronted with on a daily basis. It is a haven for homeless derelicts to rub elbows with their social and intellectual betters.

It isn't attention that they want, so much as acceptance. They desperately want to be part of a part of society (the educated portion) that would otherwise shun them as illiterate, unwashed... pissbums. Think how Plod ingratiatingly slurps *every* post by everyone who comes here... until they grow weary of his mindless fawning and tell him to fuck off.

But when the online community rejects them (as this community has repeatedly done), their last bastion of equality has been stripped away from them. One "Shut up, Todd," and they are back to staggering down the Riverwalk where the decent folks passing by them will inevitably give them wide berth.

This they cannot, and will not, abide.

Nor do they have to, as we have no means of blocking them from posting here.

Which explains why they are posting here 100 times a day. They are asserting their power against us. They can intrude on our discussions as much as they please, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it.

Laughing at them won't stop them. Openly exhibiting our disgust for them is fruitless. Ignoring them won't work, but it is the best policy in that it rams home the fact no one cares to have any interaction with them. I prefer to employ a combination of ignoring the vast bulk of their posts, speaking disdainfully of them and mocking them whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Of course it won't do any good -- other than providing some momentary entertainment. Pissbum has been waiting out his detractors for the past two decades, and will continue to do so until his dying day (may if be soon!). Until such time, the best we can do is to conduct our conversations around them, and to enjoy their buffoonery as much as possible.
ME
2019-07-21 20:14:46 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by ME
Post by n***@gmail.com
Watermelon Gut
...a sequel to Watermelon Moon (W. Dockery)
I'm going to drag this thing out
to the bitter banal end.
The poems have turned malodorous
and gone downhill but I persist.
Bill collectors collect at the windows
and my joblessness only pisses them.
Tried my best for the entire week
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was barfing
Barfing over the river
at the professionalism
of early morning narcing.
And through bleary eyes
I saw how others also needed...
My poetic touch.
Even if they don’t know it
But I’ll give it to them anyway.
But when I look
in the mirror in the restroom
and I see those bloodshot eyes
staring back at me like poo, um
And I find that there is
nothing to love about me.
and remember others don’t either
and I hang around for free.
Because there's nobody else
quite as freebie as me.
What I try to say and think
Come out as two grease-marbled things.
I run it all through a blender
wish I could somehow
get inside the shelter
And tamp down me, the unbefriended poster
Compelled to post day and night.
Paying in foodstamps
for what got lost or fenced.
And I will never get hired again.
Strange laundry in my thoughts
like old socks and underwear.
Like something smells and I think it’s me
And in-grown hair germinating in my insides.
Memories whisper to me like
Phil Spector and his wall of sound
How can I water my grass
If I don’t have any.
And Phil is in prison.
My body curdled
in streaky, lardaceous noodles.
My poetry exposed at last
As seedy when I ate the whole watermelon
and drank rancid wines
because that was all that was in the dumpster,
dinners someone threw at me at the club.
I look at myself
with a crown of licey hair,
and my heart is straining to pump
blood to all my extremities
but is having a very difficult time.
My lips on the mirror
when I again see my face.
It is in there somewhere
like ravished brambles twisting or maybe twist ties.
But with an emphatic shake of my ass
and it keeps on shaking.
And the stage is majorly creaking with
the old tunes I still try to push out
from my Watermelon Gut.
==================
I think you're mistaken about Pissbum, ME.
No, I’m not Michael.
Bumping himself to to top of the list, no matter how sad and pathetic his behavior must become, that’s his main objective here.
He demands and agitates until all attention is on or about him.
But you’re entitled to your opinion.
It's true that bumping his posts seems to be both his and his Bunnysock's sole avocation in life, but as I've noted, it's not so much about receiving attention as it is about asserting his power.
Pissbum and Pissbunny are at the absolute lowest rungs of the social ladder. I mean... they're bums, for cryin' out loud. People who pass them on the street do so with an averted eye and a quickened gait.
The semi-anonymity of the internet cuts through many of the social barriers and prejudices that they are confronted with on a daily basis. It is a haven for homeless derelicts to rub elbows with their social and intellectual betters.
It isn't attention that they want, so much as acceptance. They desperately want to be part of a part of society (the educated portion) that would otherwise shun them as illiterate, unwashed... pissbums. Think how Plod ingratiatingly slurps *every* post by everyone who comes here... until they grow weary of his mindless fawning and tell him to fuck off.
But when the online community rejects them (as this community has repeatedly done), their last bastion of equality has been stripped away from them. One "Shut up, Todd," and they are back to staggering down the Riverwalk where the decent folks passing by them will inevitably give them wide berth.
This they cannot, and will not, abide.
Nor do they have to, as we have no means of blocking them from posting here.
Which explains why they are posting here 100 times a day. They are asserting their power against us. They can intrude on our discussions as much as they please, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it.
Laughing at them won't stop them. Openly exhibiting our disgust for them is fruitless. Ignoring them won't work, but it is the best policy in that it rams home the fact no one cares to have any interaction with them. I prefer to employ a combination of ignoring the vast bulk of their posts, speaking disdainfully of them and mocking them whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Of course it won't do any good -- other than providing some momentary entertainment. Pissbum has been waiting out his detractors for the past two decades, and will continue to do so until his dying day (may if be soon!). Until such time, the best we can do is to conduct our conversations around them, and to enjoy their buffoonery as much as possible.
Michael, completely agree with you.
As I’ve I said, it’s just one of life’s guilty pleasures.
George J. Dance
2019-07-22 20:55:39 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by ME
Michael, completely agree with you.
Of course you do: Pig Pen's your model, and you're his bitch. That's what you do here, originally for J.O. and now as sloppy seconds for Pig Pen.

It doesn't even matter what he said, really. You'll agree.
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-23 02:24:31 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by George J. Dance
Post by ME
Michael, completely agree with you.
Of course you do: Pig Pen's your model, and you're his bitch. That's what you do here, originally for J.O. and now as sloppy seconds for Pig Pen.
It doesn't even matter what he said, really. You'll agree.
Do you disagree, Dunce?

Peter J Ross
2019-07-21 21:48:16 UTC
Reply
Permalink
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sun, 21 Jul 2019 12:39:54 -0700 (PDT),
Michael Pendragon wrote:

<...>
Post by Michael Pendragon
Laughing at them won't stop them. Openly exhibiting our disgust for
them is fruitless. Ignoring them won't work, but it is the best
policy in that it rams home the fact no one cares to have any
interaction with them. I prefer to employ a combination of ignoring
the vast bulk of their posts, speaking disdainfully of them and
mocking them whenever the opportunity presents itself.
If you ignore 99% of their posts, you're not missing anything, since
the 99% are identical to the 1%. The kooks are nothing if not
repetitive.
Post by Michael Pendragon
Of course it won't do any good -- other than providing some
momentary entertainment. Pissbum has been waiting out his
detractors for the past two decades, and will continue to do so
until his dying day (may if be soon!). Until such time, the best we
can do is to conduct our conversations around them, and to enjoy
their buffoonery as much as possible.
The conversations of which you speak are a mere sideshow to the
freakshow that's the main attraction.

Roll up, roll up, and see how the funny little apes can be made to
dance when we poke them with our sharp sticks!

The possessors of sharp sticks tend to be reasonably intelligent and
cultured, so interesting conversations do arise from time to time, but
let's not pretend that they're the reason we're here.

For all serious purposes, Usenet is dead, and AAPC is dead along with
it. Usenet started to die at the beginning of the "Eternal September",
when AOL made it possible for large numbers of morons to connect to
the Internet. Before then, every September brought a new influx of
Clueless Newbies connecting to the Internet at their universities,
who had to have the cluelessness beaten out of them before normal
business could resume. But AOL gave us Clueless Newbies who were not
only clueless but also very, very stupid. Most of them ran away from
the sharp sticks pretty quickly, but a few were not only stupid but
also masochistic, and decided that being poked with sharp sticks was
more fun than anything they experienced in their boring, minimum-waged
real lives. Usenet became full of insignificant noise, and most of the
people who wanted serious conversations (without having to update
their killfiles every ten minutes) went elsewhere.

What we're left with is a few kooks who have nowhere else to go, and a
few kookologists who use Usenet as a place to test their sharp sticks
for use elsewhere.

Rarely, AAPC may contain an interesting conversation. Even more
rarely, it may contain a poem that's worth reading or a comment on a
poem that's helpful to the poet or to other poets. But anybody who
reads the group solely for such delights is as foolish as a man who
searches a haystack for hens' teeth.

If a virus wiped out everybody on Earth who had a two-digit IQ, it
would not only be a very good thing, but also the end of AAPC. There
would be no reason for the rest of us to come here any more.

Despite having said all that, my current visit to AAPC has been
unnaturally prolonged because I was enjoying the discussions of poetry
and music, until they collapsed in mutual incomprehension. I was
planning to start an extended break after tonight, but Dunce is
digging himself an amusing hole, and I want to see if he digs it deep
enough to plead guilty to the Whitechapel Murders. Let's say that I'll
have the pleasure of your company until the end of the month.
--
PJR :-)

τὸν οἰόμενον νόον ἔχειν ὁ νουθετέων ματαιοπονεῖ.
- Democritus
ME
2019-07-22 08:53:23 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Peter J Ross
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sun, 21 Jul 2019 12:39:54 -0700 (PDT),
<...>
Post by Michael Pendragon
Laughing at them won't stop them. Openly exhibiting our disgust for
them is fruitless. Ignoring them won't work, but it is the best
policy in that it rams home the fact no one cares to have any
interaction with them. I prefer to employ a combination of ignoring
the vast bulk of their posts, speaking disdainfully of them and
mocking them whenever the opportunity presents itself.
If you ignore 99% of their posts, you're not missing anything, since
the 99% are identical to the 1%. The kooks are nothing if not
repetitive.
Post by Michael Pendragon
Of course it won't do any good -- other than providing some
momentary entertainment. Pissbum has been waiting out his
detractors for the past two decades, and will continue to do so
until his dying day (may if be soon!). Until such time, the best we
can do is to conduct our conversations around them, and to enjoy
their buffoonery as much as possible.
The conversations of which you speak are a mere sideshow to the
freakshow that's the main attraction.
Roll up, roll up, and see how the funny little apes can be made to
dance when we poke them with our sharp sticks!
The possessors of sharp sticks tend to be reasonably intelligent and
cultured, so interesting conversations do arise from time to time, but
let's not pretend that they're the reason we're here.
For all serious purposes, Usenet is dead, and AAPC is dead along with
it. Usenet started to die at the beginning of the "Eternal September",
when AOL made it possible for large numbers of morons to connect to
the Internet. Before then, every September brought a new influx of
Clueless Newbies connecting to the Internet at their universities,
who had to have the cluelessness beaten out of them before normal
business could resume. But AOL gave us Clueless Newbies who were not
only clueless but also very, very stupid. Most of them ran away from
the sharp sticks pretty quickly, but a few were not only stupid but
also masochistic, and decided that being poked with sharp sticks was
more fun than anything they experienced in their boring, minimum-waged
real lives. Usenet became full of insignificant noise, and most of the
people who wanted serious conversations (without having to update
their killfiles every ten minutes) went elsewhere.
What we're left with is a few kooks who have nowhere else to go, and a
few kookologists who use Usenet as a place to test their sharp sticks
for use elsewhere.
Rarely, AAPC may contain an interesting conversation. Even more
rarely, it may contain a poem that's worth reading or a comment on a
poem that's helpful to the poet or to other poets. But anybody who
reads the group solely for such delights is as foolish as a man who
searches a haystack for hens' teeth.
If a virus wiped out everybody on Earth who had a two-digit IQ, it
would not only be a very good thing, but also the end of AAPC. There
would be no reason for the rest of us to come here any more.
Despite having said all that, my current visit to AAPC has been
unnaturally prolonged because I was enjoying the discussions of poetry
and music, until they collapsed in mutual incomprehension. I was
planning to start an extended break after tonight, but Dunce is
digging himself an amusing hole, and I want to see if he digs it deep
enough to plead guilty to the Whitechapel Murders. Let's say that I'll
have the pleasure of your company until the end of the month.
--
PJR :-)
τὸν οἰόμενον νόον ἔχειν ὁ νουθετέων ματαιοπονεῖ.
- Democritus
Indeed!!
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