Benny B

Well-known member
My theory about people from Cumbria is that they end up 8n Manchester that is it
Nah terrible theory, they either stay at home and lead boring lives, go to uni in Newcastle (nearest big city) and/or fuck off abroad and never come back.
 

Benny B

Well-known member
They're all 11 toed boss-eyed sheep shaggers. Let's not derail this wonderful poetry thread any further though eh?
 

Clinamenic

Binary & Tweed
Getting feedback from ChatGPT:

Summarize the poetic style of Luke Davis

Luke Davis' poetic style is characterized by a focus on the power of language, vivid imagery, and an exploration of the complexities of human nature. His poems often focus on themes of love, loss, and identity, as he utilizes poetic devices like personification and metaphor to express his ideas. He also often employs a lyrical, conversational style, which allows him to create a vivid, intimate narrative that speaks to readers on a personal level.
 

Clinamenic

Binary & Tweed
Seems @luka has been leading a double life...

Where does the poet Luke Davis normally write his poetry?

Luke Davis typically writes his poetry from his home in Los Angeles, California.
 

luka

Well-known member
the reason i enjoy my own writing so much is that i created the ergonomically engineered lifestyle poem that fits into the ipad niche
cleardot.gif
 

luka

Well-known member
Look, it is imperative that we explode
and dainty in the weeds, your corrolary
returning. Sent spinning on that
strict axis. Foot planted
Here. Now
pivot
and into pastoral. Profuse
clover, and buttercups,
plait grasses.

Angel
Delight, eye-lashes,
and the telegraphed wink.
So the Events occur
not one after the other.
But metamorphic.
im so ridiculously good at writing im easily the best in the universe
 

luka

Well-known member
its like i can just do anything.
elicit a response in relationships I
never making contact with another hanging out downtown
Seattle Bay scene it slides off the cheek
it reminds me of
a different failure. I don't like music anymore and
there is no other palliative no way to numb
chronic anxiety terminal despair.

Hey check out art show great new space we go round
distracted and irritable so, there was
this guy.

tarnished light why don't you trust me let me try again
they do a great Alfredo spritz with view over
aggreagate plant green gelatinous canal.
Why don't you make an effort do a little bit every day
it's just a question of getting in the habit.

so toxic I loved him in the end of my tether
he's from Australia don't tell me
he's a personal trainer have a mouthful of bottled
water.
twin prancing joggers it's part of my routine.

just not into you I used to adore Mcdonalds strawberry
thick shake brain freeze do you remember your own childhood
was it your childhood Happy Meal.
so great theres millions of these things ive done and forgotten about
 

catalog

Well-known member
I'm moving a load of stuff around, again, and found a box of old zines and pamphlets including "vegetable empire".

So I read it over the last few days, a little bit here and there.

I liked it now a bit more than when I first read it.

There's all the repeated bits about relinquishing the earth suit, going somewhere else, with different rules.

The valve that can keep stretching.
 

luka

Well-known member
NASCENT COSMOS
startling. the green penumbra, catheter
zero, cowed pasture and the forest rising
at quite a clip. Then, rain sudden and
hilarious cool irridescent uproar prickling
the scalp like sherbert. Our canny investor
made a packet, inserted at a nifty angle,
with his usual eye for the improbable chance,
and his shirt pocket full of pens.
Here,
will it, say it to me, stay with me
on the warm plateau, langourous air
moving, humid with fertility and 'ripe'
with promise. Your swollen orchard,
denatured and cackling.
I dithered just long enough to lose her.
In the slipstream of fond regard,
nostalgic for toffee-apples and television.
We
pull on woolen jerseys,
cantered to the
kite-meadow where
hurly-burly autumn disabused us.
Seeded memories of burdock,
canisters of laughing-gas, and abrupt loss.
And that
was all there was, raise the anchor,
Hamish, and we'll be off.
perfect
 
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