Slightly more prose than poetry, but I just made this up.

Reticence, a faithless gesture turned to stone, as man and flower become as one among the fields of constant dew.

"Do not turn around," spoke the voice of visceral intrigue, and gave light to a path unwandered, "For within the times which speak of blurry eyes do we seek that penultimate treasure of death."

Thy mnemnosyne, a gesture of truth uttered under a stale breath, written as poetry to quell the tides of breathing, angry hordes.

At once we see it, and in it a glorious light. Therein we find what these fields whisper of so softly. Therein we find our humanity, and a childhood of innocent dreams.

Edit: Sorry if it's not that good, I'm a bit tired. =/
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 5:28, archived)

Hooo boy,
Screw pretention, you've got a real gift.
(Avacado Platypus, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 5:31, archived)

Tubgirl Fever, by me.

Lovely lady in the tub.
Give that soap a thorough rub.
Rolling over with a swoop.
Shitting streams of lentil soup.
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 5:40, archived)

Now THAT's
pootry in motions.


do you see what I did there?
( NobbyNobody 21 years a b3tan, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 5:44, archived)

There went my chinese food.
Its so bad its good...
(Avacado Platypus, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 5:45, archived)

hahahahahaha

( cheesemaster a screaming naked asian man driving a semi, Fri 24 Feb 2006, 7:08, archived)