internet poetry page 2
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Hello friends, Samm Bennett here. Like many folks these days, I spend a lot of time on the internet. I'm active at a site called Metafilter, and at Facebook and Flickr, where over the past few years I've posted a fair amount of poetry and songs in threads at those sites: stuff that I've usually written quickly and at the spur of the moment, specifically referring to some link or topic of discussion in some thread. Just for fun, mainly, but I also find it kinda keeps my writing muscles in shape: a little practice here and there, you know. Compiled here are some of these little bits of verse. Most of it is lightweight, often silly. Like I said, it's just for fun.
Each poem here is preceded by a bit of background context. In many cases, the poems were sparked by a quote from a linked article or video, or a comment made by someone in a thread, and I've included those quotes or paraphrasing where necessary.
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Hello friends, Samm Bennett here. Like many folks these days, I spend a lot of time on the internet. I'm active at a site called Metafilter, and at Facebook and Flickr, where over the past few years I've posted a fair amount of poetry and songs in threads at those sites: stuff that I've usually written quickly and at the spur of the moment, specifically referring to some link or topic of discussion in some thread. Just for fun, mainly, but I also find it kinda keeps my writing muscles in shape: a little practice here and there, you know. Compiled here are some of these little bits of verse. Most of it is lightweight, often silly. Like I said, it's just for fun.
Each poem here is preceded by a bit of background context. In many cases, the poems were sparked by a quote from a linked article or video, or a comment made by someone in a thread, and I've included those quotes or paraphrasing where necessary.
Tell Maude I Slipped (inspired by a record jacket posted to the Plonsky group at Facebook)
tell Maude I slipped
tell Betty I tripped
tell Gladys I just smoked a bone
and I'm ripped!
tell Lucy and Ruth
that I climbed up a tree
don't tell Ezra nuthin'
that gal's dead to me
tell Patsy i've run off
to ol' San Antone
tell her I went with her brother Malone
and tell Lula Mae that I love her, I do
but that me and Malone
have got something to do
see, me and Malone
when we hit San Antone
are gonna be partners
I can't work alone
we're robbing a bank
and we'll get lotsa money
and then I'll come back to you,
Lula Mae, honey
tell Betty I tripped
tell Gladys I just smoked a bone
and I'm ripped!
tell Lucy and Ruth
that I climbed up a tree
don't tell Ezra nuthin'
that gal's dead to me
tell Patsy i've run off
to ol' San Antone
tell her I went with her brother Malone
and tell Lula Mae that I love her, I do
but that me and Malone
have got something to do
see, me and Malone
when we hit San Antone
are gonna be partners
I can't work alone
we're robbing a bank
and we'll get lotsa money
and then I'll come back to you,
Lula Mae, honey
Sunday On The Mountain
Monday in the valley Tuesday at the edge of town Wednesday in the alley Thursday cross the railroad tracks Friday who knows where Saturday I'm only hoping Sunday you'll be there |
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I'm Mapping Patterns on Butterfly Wings
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A Facebook friend posted this image of "Nabokov’s system developed to map patterns on butterfly wings." A poem ensued...
i'm mapping patterns on butterfly wings transcribing the songs that the whippoorwill sings charting the travels of elephant herds and listening, oh yes, to the myna bird's words for it's only the animal's wisdom I seek I'm so tired of humans, their stories are bleak so never mind politics, business and arts you're better off studying chimpanzee farts! |
A Two-Legged Pig Walked Into a Bar
This drawing, from an old Ripley's Believe It Or Not, appeared at the Plonsky group on Facebook.
It inspired the following poem…
It inspired the following poem…
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a two-legged pig walked into a bar
the barkeep said "pig, have you come from afar?" the pig said "why yes, I've been walking all day". "And I guess that's not easy" the barkeep did say. "Not easy?" said piggie, "why, what do you mean?" the barkeep said "well, you're the first that I've seen" "first WHAT?" said the pig in a furious tone "the first", said the barkeep "who's come in alone! See, we usually get pigs here in pairs, or in groups, pigs from conventions, theatrical troupes. But you're by yourself, and that's just not the norm, the pigs in this place usually come by the swarm" |
the pig seemed relieved.
said "your pardon I beg, for you see, I'd assumed you'd referred to my legs." the barkeep said "yes, well, I'd noticed that too, I'd noticed you seem to have two legs too few, but here at this bar we don't care about that, we don't care if you're rich or poor skinny or fat, and two legged pigs are quite welcome in here" so the pig said "why, thank you!" and ordered a beer |
Drove My Baby Down an Old Dirt Road
This charming old photograph was posted to the Plonsky group at Facebook, and here's the poem it inspired…
i drove my baby down an old dirt road
took 'er to our brand new happy abode
she looked at the place and said
"listen up chuck,
forget this dump,
let's live in the truck"
i drove my baby down an old dirt road
took 'er to our brand new happy abode
she looked at the place and said
"listen up chuck,
forget this dump,
let's live in the truck"
A link to this article concerning the intellectual superiority of urban raccoons compared to their rural cousins was linked to at Metafilter. It inspired this raccoon-y poem that I posted in the thread…
city raccoons are much smarter, it's true
it's cause there are so many smart things to do!
museums, libraries, to name but a few,
just look at a list of the raccoon's Who's Who!
raccoon cognoscenti and raccoon trendsetters,
those rural raccoons step aside for their betters!
but one fact remains, and there isn't a doubt
with rents going up, most raccoons are priced out
city raccoons are much smarter, it's true
it's cause there are so many smart things to do!
museums, libraries, to name but a few,
just look at a list of the raccoon's Who's Who!
raccoon cognoscenti and raccoon trendsetters,
those rural raccoons step aside for their betters!
but one fact remains, and there isn't a doubt
with rents going up, most raccoons are priced out
A Drunken Lady on a Stolen Horse
I saw a link on Facebook to a Huffington Post article involving a drunken lady who stole a horse to go buy
some beer. How can you not write a poem about that?
a drunken lady on a stolen horse
rode through the Alabama night
if she could just get to a store, she thought,
everything'd be alright
she got to store, dismounted the steed
and proceeded to steal some cheap beer
just a typical night down in Dixie
you just gotta love it down here
I saw a link on Facebook to a Huffington Post article involving a drunken lady who stole a horse to go buy
some beer. How can you not write a poem about that?
a drunken lady on a stolen horse
rode through the Alabama night
if she could just get to a store, she thought,
everything'd be alright
she got to store, dismounted the steed
and proceeded to steal some cheap beer
just a typical night down in Dixie
you just gotta love it down here
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I Once Saw a Woman
The ever-interesting Dangerous Minds website posted this old image to Facebook. Here's what I wrote for it: i once saw a woman she stood on the street wore a long winter coat, and pumps on her feet really quite average, except for one fact the gal had a shelf fulla books on her back i said "you got novels? biographies there?" she said "that and more! i got plenty to share!" so i borrowed a book about sex and she said "when you bring it back, let me test you in bed!" |
Papa Jo Jones
Why isn't there a flipping beat?
I made a Metafilter post linking to a drum solo by jazz drummer Papa Jo Jones,
one of the undisputed masters of American drumming. Someone who just didn't
see the beauty of it (to say the least!) posted this comment in the Metafilter thread:
I thought the solo from the main link was absolutely terrible. What a boring, tedious, meritless piece of nonsense. It was just totally random, it didn't add up to anything, it didn't go anywhere. There was barely a shred of musicality to it. What on earth kind of exalted mental state do you have to be in to find that enjoyable, really? A completely rhythmless disconnected collection of uninteresting noises. What is enjoyable about it? The fact that it's so amusical? Is it the amusicality which appeals through some snobbish sense of elitism? Why isn't there a flipping beat? Boring!!!
The comment inspired this somewhat Dr. Seussian poem...
There were flipping beats.
And skipping beats.
Hopping and sliding and hipping beats.
Beats within pulses,
pulses and taps.
Beats close together,
beats with wide gaps.
Rhythms born of a shuffle, a step,
from street-corner cats that were savvy and hep.
Beats made of meanings, all interrelated,
beats that are slippery, beats syncopated.
Beats that don't pound like some thudding machine,
but rather, move lithely: they shift, bend and lean.
Rhythms you missed cause you are not attuned,
missed cause your ears must be plugged or cocooned.
Couldn't pick up, couldn't hold in your hand,
a whole world of rhythm you can't understand.
And sadder, yet still, is you seem somehow proud
of not feeling the groove, yes, you shout it out loud!
"I don't hear the rhythm!" you scream, clear and true,
never mind that there's millions, yes millions who do.
But hey, listen man, ain't no biggie, don't sweat it.
With luck, hey, who knows?
Maybe someday you'll get it!
Camels in Normandy
At Metafilter, someone posted a link to a YouTube video of two escaped camels seen along a highway in the Normandy region of France. The clip inspired this poem:
camels in Normandy, what a slim chance!
not down in the desert, but way up in France!
perhaps they were craving
some fine French cuisine!
or les chameaux belles françaises,
if you know what I mean!
At Metafilter, someone posted a link to a YouTube video of two escaped camels seen along a highway in the Normandy region of France. The clip inspired this poem:
camels in Normandy, what a slim chance!
not down in the desert, but way up in France!
perhaps they were craving
some fine French cuisine!
or les chameaux belles françaises,
if you know what I mean!
I Need To Fix My Tuba
My Facebook friend Ralph Carney (musician extraordinaire!) posted this: "i need to fix my tuba! don't we all?"
The comment inspired this little ditty in three stanzas:
i need to fix my tuba
it's broken, don'tcha know
it's s'posed to play the low notes
sounds like a piccolo
but then again my flute
it's broken too, and so...
high notes from my tuba
and from the flute? the low!
but meanwhile, man, my clarinet
sounds like a violin
my cornet, when i blow notes out
they seem to blow back in
my saxophone's all twisted up
the sound is very strange
when i play Autumn Leaves, you see
sounds like Home On The Range
in fact it seems that ALL my horns
are busted, in some way
my gig tonight (at some cheap dive)
i don't know WHAT i'll play
perhaps i'll bring a bass drum
that sounds just like a snare
and downbeats will be backbeats
ah fuck it, i don't care
800 Ashleys
At Metafilter, a member whose username was "Ashley801" made some post, and someone else, at some point in the thread, said something like "so where are the first 800 Ashleys?" which, of course, inspired this silly
little item:
eight hundred Ashleys, they all went to France
then down to Morrocco, where they learned to dance
they danced cross the desert, down into Zaire
got work in the nightclubs, and did well, I hear
they chartered a flight to Chicago, but then
the plane was forced down, just outside Berlin
they wandered cross Germany, sampling the beer
then collectively asked "what are we doing here?"
they made their way eastward, through Russia and China
decided to set off for South Carolina
and the last that I heard, they were in Bucharest
so friend, if you see them, please give 'em my best!
Sam the Anonymous Reno Truck Driver
In this Metafilter thread, someone posted a purported quote from a truck driver who only identified himself as Sam from Reno. This Sam said some disparaging things about the Occupy Wall Street protests that were shutting down the Port of Oakland. This Sam was ostensibly a real working man, who had no patience for these lazy hippies with nothing to do but protest! This was the comment posted: "To me this is all (baloney)," said Sam, who declined to give his last name, but said he is a hauler for NevCal Trucking out of Reno and picked up a container at PortsAmerica terminal Wednesday afternoon. When he tried to leave, the exit gate manned by U.S. Customs and Border Protection had closed early because of the impending protest. "These people are out here trying to make a living. I get paid per run, I don't get paid by the hour,'' he said. "My personal opinion? The 1 percent down here is protesting, the 99 percent is down here working."
So Sam from Reno, if he did actually exist or if he didn't, anyway inspired this little poem:
his name is "Sam"
he drives a "truck"
he comes from "Reno"
he's outta "luck"
cause he can't "drive"
his truck "today"
them "one per-centers"
are in his "way"
just how he "figures"
it's them to "blame"
is cause his "thinking"
is rather "lame"
so listen, "Sam"
let's get a "clue"
real "one per-centers"
don't give a fuck about "you"
In this Metafilter thread, someone posted a purported quote from a truck driver who only identified himself as Sam from Reno. This Sam said some disparaging things about the Occupy Wall Street protests that were shutting down the Port of Oakland. This Sam was ostensibly a real working man, who had no patience for these lazy hippies with nothing to do but protest! This was the comment posted: "To me this is all (baloney)," said Sam, who declined to give his last name, but said he is a hauler for NevCal Trucking out of Reno and picked up a container at PortsAmerica terminal Wednesday afternoon. When he tried to leave, the exit gate manned by U.S. Customs and Border Protection had closed early because of the impending protest. "These people are out here trying to make a living. I get paid per run, I don't get paid by the hour,'' he said. "My personal opinion? The 1 percent down here is protesting, the 99 percent is down here working."
So Sam from Reno, if he did actually exist or if he didn't, anyway inspired this little poem:
his name is "Sam"
he drives a "truck"
he comes from "Reno"
he's outta "luck"
cause he can't "drive"
his truck "today"
them "one per-centers"
are in his "way"
just how he "figures"
it's them to "blame"
is cause his "thinking"
is rather "lame"
so listen, "Sam"
let's get a "clue"
real "one per-centers"
don't give a fuck about "you"
The Moon in a Room
At Facebook, someone posted the picture you see to the left.
It inspired this poem:
i saw a man in a long black coat
he was standing by the moon
between a door and the lunar surface
in an otherwise empty room
i don't know what he was thinking
or why he was there in that place
but when the man stepped away
the moon slipped through the door
and now it lives way up in space
Face Book
My friend Carl Stone posted a photo on Facebook, the photo
you see to your left. It inspired this bit of verse:
i started reading your face, my dear
but i only got halfway through
the things that you'd written
the story you told
it seemed less than halfway true
perhaps if you could conjure up some honesty
i might lose my misapprehension
maybe i'd try, babe, to read you again
and maybe you'd hold my attention
My friend Carl Stone posted a photo on Facebook, the photo
you see to your left. It inspired this bit of verse:
i started reading your face, my dear
but i only got halfway through
the things that you'd written
the story you told
it seemed less than halfway true
perhaps if you could conjure up some honesty
i might lose my misapprehension
maybe i'd try, babe, to read you again
and maybe you'd hold my attention
I Let Out a Yawn
At Metafilter, someone posted a video explaining why yawns are contagious. Someone then, in a comment, mentioned that when he yawns, sometimes his dog yawns as well. Then someone else affirmed: "yawns can be contagious cross species." This all inspired this silly little piece of poesie...
i let out a yawn, and then so did my cat
it's really quite common, we often do that
then the neighbor's old dog, who was crossing the yard
he yawned wide and then the security guard
who lives down the block, well, he yawned as well
which made his pet snake yawn (snake's scary as hell)
and the yawn from the snake caused a yawn from a bird
and that bird yawn triggered an antelope herd
to all yawn as one, which was seen by a goat
who yawned toward a man sailing by in a boat
and his yawn, it spurred a big yawn from a cow
there by the river, and people, by now
this circle of yawns had come back to me
so i yawned once again, and then went for a pee
I Moved to a Tropical Island
A facebook friend posted this picture, which inspired this little poem:
i moved to a tropical island
and it rains here every day
a big ol' cloud hangs overhead
seems like it's come to stay
beyond the beach it's sunny
but on my island, skies are gray
story of my life, I guess
and i can't afford to move away
no i can't afford to move away
A facebook friend posted this picture, which inspired this little poem:
i moved to a tropical island
and it rains here every day
a big ol' cloud hangs overhead
seems like it's come to stay
beyond the beach it's sunny
but on my island, skies are gray
story of my life, I guess
and i can't afford to move away
no i can't afford to move away
It's Hard To Go Back in Time
My good friend (and Medicine Bone bandmate) Ken Shima posted the following to Facebook:
Damn, it's so hard to go back even 20 hours on facebook. I'm trying to find a Tokyo Anti-Nuke demonstration poster from earlier this week. Anyone? Help!
His post inspired this:
it's hard to go back in time
even 20 hours can't be done
we wanna go back to that time, of course
when we were happy, or having fun
but we're stuck, my friend, in the present
we gotta keep moving on
the people and places and things we knew
they're gone, they're gone, they're gone
My good friend (and Medicine Bone bandmate) Ken Shima posted the following to Facebook:
Damn, it's so hard to go back even 20 hours on facebook. I'm trying to find a Tokyo Anti-Nuke demonstration poster from earlier this week. Anyone? Help!
His post inspired this:
it's hard to go back in time
even 20 hours can't be done
we wanna go back to that time, of course
when we were happy, or having fun
but we're stuck, my friend, in the present
we gotta keep moving on
the people and places and things we knew
they're gone, they're gone, they're gone
If Dishes Were Wishes
A friend at Facebook posted:
"never have i ever seen so many dishes in a sink".
which inspired these four lines:
if dishes were wishes
and they all came true
then you'd surely (at least)
have less dishes to do
A friend at Facebook posted:
"never have i ever seen so many dishes in a sink".
which inspired these four lines:
if dishes were wishes
and they all came true
then you'd surely (at least)
have less dishes to do
Counting Eskimo
Words for Snow
Over at Metafilter, someone made a post on "Eskimo words for snow". It was a link to an article called "Counting Eskimo words for Snow". As we've heard for years, there are LOTS of words for snow among the Inuits and other northern native Americans once (and still, often) referred to as "Eskimo". So here's a little poem I posted in that thread...
counting Eskimo words for snow
gotta be quite a few, you know
some people only got just one
that's all they need, and then they're done
and me? got no use for the stuff...
makes life in the city awful rough
turns black, or only turns to slush
slows you down when you're in a rush
so i'm sorry if i seem crass
but man, snow's just a pain in the ass
Words for Snow
Over at Metafilter, someone made a post on "Eskimo words for snow". It was a link to an article called "Counting Eskimo words for Snow". As we've heard for years, there are LOTS of words for snow among the Inuits and other northern native Americans once (and still, often) referred to as "Eskimo". So here's a little poem I posted in that thread...
counting Eskimo words for snow
gotta be quite a few, you know
some people only got just one
that's all they need, and then they're done
and me? got no use for the stuff...
makes life in the city awful rough
turns black, or only turns to slush
slows you down when you're in a rush
so i'm sorry if i seem crass
but man, snow's just a pain in the ass
I shook hands with an octopus
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Someone at Metafilter posted a link to a video
(seen directly to your left) and described it like this: "A short video of a diver shaking hands with an Atlantic pygmy octopus." Some of the commenters in the thread indicated that the charming little octopus wasn't being friendly, but merely wanted to see if the finger might be edible or not. My my, such little faith in our cephalopod friends! They inspired this poem: I shook hands with an octopus that is, of course, his tentacle of all my undersea exploits, this one was the pinnacle! now some of you will not be charmed, because you are quite cynical but I shook hands with an octopus that is, of course, his tentacle |
photo via
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My buddy Lawrence English, of Brisbane, Australia, often posts cryptic little one liner on his Facebook page that I often find inspiring One such line was this:
the place where the end is an open door." How can you resist a line like that? So I answered with this: the end is an open door the beginning a slippery floor the past is a foreign shore and the future is simply, more |
Frog Ain't in no Hurry
Saw this posted to Facebook.
How could you resist?
frog ain't in no hurry
ain't gotta be nowhere fast
just wants to take in the scenery
let the traveling moment last
he thought to himself "what's slower?
slower than the US mail?"
then it dawned on Mr. Frog:
"why sure! i'll catch a snail!"
Saw this posted to Facebook.
How could you resist?
frog ain't in no hurry
ain't gotta be nowhere fast
just wants to take in the scenery
let the traveling moment last
he thought to himself "what's slower?
slower than the US mail?"
then it dawned on Mr. Frog:
"why sure! i'll catch a snail!"
Elephant Called Monkey
This wonderful old Japanese matchbox illustration was posted to the Plonsky group at Facebook…
elephant called monkey
on the phone
he said "i'm feelin' very sad
and all alone"
monkey said "man, get over here,
quick as you can!
we'll eat bananas,
and we'll smoke a bone"
This wonderful old Japanese matchbox illustration was posted to the Plonsky group at Facebook…
elephant called monkey
on the phone
he said "i'm feelin' very sad
and all alone"
monkey said "man, get over here,
quick as you can!
we'll eat bananas,
and we'll smoke a bone"