Thursday, 27 March 2014

Surprise Longlister on the LemonHound's Inaugural Poetry Prize: Tom Hardy

As Lemonhound announced the longlist for its first annual poetry prize, writers on all nine continents were shocked to learn that Tom Hardy, boyish and illiterate British thespian, had made the "cut." G'morning Poetry got in figurative "touch" with Mr. Hardy through the Steve Barclay Agency, and the world-fumous renaissance person very generously gave us his time to address our squistions.


GM: Welcome. Hello. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us about poetry. How are you?
TH: So far, so goo. I only have 6 minutes before I head off to BAFTA.


GP: Right. Sure, okay. Can we join you? Just kidding. We're just kidding. We don't even know what BAFTA means.
TH: Yes.



GP: Wait, "yes" as in we CAN accompany you? Or "yes" as in, uhm, we probably don't even know what BAFTA means?
TH: Can we just get to the poetry, please?


GP: Of course. So, your longlisted poem is titled "Valve." Does it respond to your emotionally wrenching experience embodying the role of Bane, a character whose constant injections of "venom" through subcutaneous valves clearly critiques Western society's growing physical dependence on synthetically derived chemical sustenance, as depicted in Michael Bay's allegorical film The Dark Night Wrising?
TH: Nope.



GP: Oh, so... what's it about then?
TH: None of your trucking business.
GP: Thank you for your times.
TH: Yes.


Thursday, 20 March 2014

New Line of Collectable Canadian Poet Figurines!

The Lock, Shock, and Ken Babstock

Earle Grey Birney

Lisa "Geometry" Robertson

League of Clownadian Poets


Anne Camo Carson


Steve McLaffy-Caffery

Di Brandtly



Darren Tapeworm Wershler (Henry)








Thursday, 13 March 2014

REAL student reviews of Greggy Betts's la test: This Is Importance (W&W 2013)

"This book is important." ~Donna Hayes, MSc (2012)


"I coulda writ this shite." ~Donny Wayes, BA (2015)

"Greg Betts inspires my career aspirations to professionally loathe myself." ~Donald Paas, DDS (2014)

"I definitely have read this book." ~Dana Hyas, BKin (2010)

"Where's my royalty cheque?" ~Diane Shawe, DPT (2017)


"But is it importance, really?" ~Ditty Ashwe, BBusSci (1999)

"Ooops! Ohh, oh, ah. Eee... no! Agh. Whoaaahh." ~Dan Heysa, PhD (2009)


Tuesday, 25 February 2014

Elegy for Mr. Harold Ramis


                                     
                                    Oh!  You're here.                                     
                                    Oh, this is big, Peter.  This is very big.
                                    There's definitely something here.
It's moving!                                     
                                    It's here.
It's a woman.
Ready.
                                    I wouldn't say the experience was completely
                                    wasted.  Based on these new readings, I
                                    think we have an excellent chance of
                                    actually catching a ghost and holding it
                                    indefinitely.
I'm always serious.
                                    Just for your information, Ray, the interest
                                    payments alone for the first five years come
                                    to over $75,000.
It's 9,642.55 square feet.
Our courteous and efficient staff is on call
                                    24 hours a day to serve all your supernatural
                                    elimination needs.
Print is dead.
Is that a game?
I collect spores, molds and fungus.
I think it's the food of the future.
She's telling the truth -- or at least she
                                    thinks she is.
Or even a race memory, stored in the collective unconscious.  And I wouldn't rule out clairvoyance or telepathic contact either.
You're a Scorpio with your moon in Leo and Aquarius rising.
Did you see anything?
I blame myself.
We'd better adjust our streams.
Something was definitely here.
                                      Were you recently in the bathroom?
The wet towels, residual moisture on your
                                    lower limbs and hair, the redness in your
                                    cheeks indicating ...
                                    When you were in the bathroom, did you
                                    notice anything that was yellow and
                                    unusually smelly?
Ray!  Where are you?  Are you all right?
Ray!  It's here!  It just went into the Banquet Room on the third floor.
Wait!  Wait!  There's something I forgot to
                                    tell you. 
                                    Don't cross the beams.                                     
                                    Trust me.  It will be bad.             
                                    It's hard to explain, but try to imagine
                                    all life as you know it stopping
                                    instantaneously and finding yourself
                                    confined forever in another dimension.
Don't cross them!  Watch it!
Easy ... Easy ... I'm going to throw in my
                                    trap now.
He's in here.
They're not guns.  They're particle throwers.                                     
                                    I couldn't do that.  You might hurt someone.
                                    On Earth -- no.  But on Krypton we could
                                    slice him up like Oscar Mayer Bologna.
Neutronize.  System shut.                                   
                                    I've got to sleep.                                   
                                    I'm worried, Ray.  It's getting crowded in
                                    there.  And all my recent data points to
                                    something big on the bottom.
                                    Well, let's say this Twinkie represents the
                                    normal amount of psychokinetic energy in the
                                    New York area.  According to this morning's
                                    PKE sample, the current level in the city
                                    would be a Twinkie 35 feet long weighing
                                    approximately six hundred pounds.
Bring him inside, Officer.
I am Egon, Creature of Earth,
                                    Doctor of Physics, Graduate of M.I.T.
Yes, have some.
                                    Vinz, what sign are you waiting for?
Hello? 
                                    What is it?
Does she want to be?
                                    Some.  I just met the Keymaster.  He's here
                                    with me now.
                                    Venkman?  Are you there?
                                    I agree.
All right.  I'll try.                                                                         
                                    All right, Peter.  Good night.
Die in what sense?                                     
                                    I don't care.  I see us as tiny parts of a
                                    vast organism, like two bacteria living on
                                    a rotting speck of dust floating in an
                                    infinite void.
                                    You have nice clavicles.
                                    I wonder where Stantz is.  I think we're
                                    going to need him.
You can see what's inside through the             monitor if you wish.
                                    He wants to shut down the storage grid.
No ... no water.  There's nothing you can do.
The storage facility blew.  This one ...
                                    ... shut off the protection grid.
Oh, shit!
If you don't shut up I'm going to rip out your septum.
And look at this, Peter. Cold-riveted girders with selenium cores.
Of course! Ivo Shandor,  I saw his name in Tobin's SPIRIT GUIDE.  He           started  a secret society in 1920. Yes.  After the First World War Shandor decided that society was too sick to survive.  And he wasn't alone.  He had close to a thousand followers when he died.  They conducted rituals, bizarre rituals, intended to bring about the end of the world.
Who?
You talked to Gozer?
Sumarian -- not Babylonian,
What is it?
I don't believe in luck.
Thank you.
It's Shandor - the architect!
Not necessarily.
                                    I think he's saying that since we're about to be sacrificed anyway, we get                                      to choose the form we want him to take.
                                   That appears to be the case.
                                   No.
                                   Full-stream with strogon pulse.
                                   No!  Them!  Shoot them!
                                   Cross the beams.
                                   Life is just a state of mind.

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Poetic Captions for Team Canada Hockey Men's Please Olympics Be Excited Spend Your Money!

"Imma kiss your hair, Mr. Crosby"

"If, during the game, you see my thumb like so, then you must scurry to the bench for a refreshment"

Double Donkey

Single Donkey


A still from Ingmar Babcock's "Persona, Eh?"



Sunday, 22 December 2013

Announcing 7 New International Poetry Prize Competitions of Winning!


Legitimate Awards for Literary Excellencing in the Poetry Sciences:

Billyballsmalonybalony International Poetry Showdown (First Prize = €10,000)

Award for Most Awkward Poet Publicking Social Performance (Sponsored by Your Momma)

Golden Wreaths of Silver Clouds in Your Hair Free-Verse Extravaganza (First Prize = a hardy backslap)

The SUR Prize (No Cash Value)


Global Achievement of Living English Stanzing ($50,000 prize for one one-word poem)

Competition for the Superlatively Unintentionally Hilarious Metaphor (First Prize = $50 Voucher to Earl's Restaurant)

The Peepeepoopoo Prize (Anonymous peer-review competition: First Place = Lifetime's Supply of Charmin)

Whinging Award (Exclusive to Hallmark® Employees)

Saturday, 21 December 2013

Poetry Discovered on the Dark Sides of Keith Moon

the recently discovered very alive Keith Moon, working as a wax salesperson



"I hope L die befove I go told" — Moon's first attempt at a tattoo poem



classic "Mire Generation" dodgy-style angel parody ankle vispoe


always enigmatically avant, his Dorian Gray:
note the dissonance between image & caption: "THERE IS A"







another dynamic vispoe as homage to Len Wein's oeuvre,
with, of course, allusions to Blake's "Songs of Innocence"


his motto, "never enough Keiths," hidden within the lines & shadows
of this classic piece found on his unusually large sole