Classic poem of the day
O Countess Gudel of Gudelfeld,
Because you have money the world has knelt.
In your gilded coach and four.
The court levee in store,
You drive to the castle, bright
With many a waxen light.
Up the marble stairs you wind,
Your rustling train behind,
And the gorgeous lackeys standing
In rows upon the landing
Shout: " Madame la Comtesse de Gudelfeld! "
Proudly, your fan in your hand,
You stroll through the cha......
Member poem of the day
The world swirls
like some crazed wounded beast,
like a still writhing octupus tentacle on a plate
that delighted diners
in some hellish Korean resteraunt
on a tv food show
stuff into their gaping beaks. the so-called world,
when I give it my attention,
recreates itself endlessly,
like the boy with his finger in the dyke
through which, wherever his panicked gaze settles,
suffering seeps.
At first we do no......
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