Spill yer guts.

General discussions of interest to readers and fans of Harlan Ellison.

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diane bartels
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby diane bartels » Tue Feb 19, 2013 6:08 pm

Copyright is not just about money. It protects the form of the artistic work. Cause the placement of the words is a fucking big deal. Like why Shakespeare and Jackie Susann are not the same. Two these thing are kinda different. One of these just doesn't belong. That is would be my concern if your remark was meant to be lobbed in my general direction, Francis.

Tim Raven
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Tim Raven » Tue Feb 19, 2013 8:15 pm

Frank, I just did.

From the site copyright.gov:

When is my work protected?
"Your work is under copyright protection the moment it is created and fixed in a tangible form that is perceptible either directly or with the aid of a machine or device.

Do I have to register with your office to be protected?
"No, in general, registration is voluntary. Copyright exists from the moment it was created. You will have to register, however, if you wish to bring a lawsuit for infringment of a U.S. work."

www.copyright.gov

I registered the stuff too, just in case.

Thanks Frank!
Tim

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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Moderator » Tue Feb 19, 2013 8:18 pm

Good for you, Tim.

Sadly, too few people understand this:

"No, in general, registration is voluntary. Copyright exists from the moment it was created. You will have to register, however, if you wish to bring a lawsuit for infringment of a U.S. work."
- I love to find adventure. All I need is a change of clothes, my Nikon, an open mind and a strong cup of coffee.

Tim Raven
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Tim Raven » Tue Feb 19, 2013 8:42 pm

Rick, this one came together quickly. My tribute to Leo Dillon.

One Trumpet

Drawn down the causeway
the black caissons moved
one trumpet raised
a rally was heard
make way for the man
who immortalized light
emotions revealed
his canvas
burned bright
with our dreams

then a flush appeared
in the face of our gloom
a harbinger of fate
towards the light
and not doom
we go
once again
yet again
with our dreams
we embrace
one more trumpet
and find ourselves moved

Dedicated to Leo Dillon, Artist.

Tim Raven

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Lori Koonce
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Lori Koonce » Wed Feb 20, 2013 1:41 pm

Here we go again
The knot in the pit of my stomach
The way the limbs slowly get too heavy to lift
The lack of pleasure, drive or anything positive

But somehow I continue to move
I find the strength to carry on.
Why?

Because deep in my inner core
I believe that I have something
That the world needs
Something that will make a difference to someone
And I refuse to let go of my miserable life
Before I've made that difference.

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FrankChurch
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby FrankChurch » Wed Feb 20, 2013 2:41 pm

Life is a gift, Lori, life is a gift.

Tim Raven
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Tim Raven » Wed Feb 20, 2013 9:54 pm

Lori, I've experienced the same and I understand your attitude. Bukowski had the same attitude as you, that as long as you keep that small ember alive deep inside, then you still have a chance to bring it forth blazing in the future. Keep that fire lit, no matter what people say.


My Thought

Weary. Weary.
waiting for the release
nothing quite so interesting as a suicide
just a desperate wish
for a good nights sleep.

Weary.
so weary.
far gone to abate
my heart is beating loudly
as
I intentionally lose this race.

So clearly
Too clearly
I’m waiting for that nod
so that I can disengage
and be lonely with my thought

as I kill.
I wanna kill.
I wanna kill
my
repeating thought.


Tim Raven


10 Stories High

my face was crafted
the day I was born
my culture encouraged
and planned the manufacture
and so dutifully hammered
my
fucking
face
inside
their burning forge

But to write
Is my new trick
And this multi-headed whore
Is peeled to the core…
I’m Ten Stories High…
And Eleven More


Tim Raven

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Lori Koonce
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Lori Koonce » Thu Feb 21, 2013 12:55 pm

FrankChurch wrote:Life is a gift, Lori, life is a gift.


That may be true , but there are times when I would like to exchange this one for something that fits a bit better.

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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Moderator » Thu Feb 21, 2013 3:31 pm

Thread drift, kids.

This be one for poetry, not proselytizing.
- I love to find adventure. All I need is a change of clothes, my Nikon, an open mind and a strong cup of coffee.

Tim Raven
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Tim Raven » Fri Feb 22, 2013 10:00 pm

Outrage

It is an
OUTRAGE
that the viscosity of this lubricant oil
has been regularly tested this quarter
and has fallen beneath one one hundredth of a thousand percent of standard!
What the Fuck?
Who is responsible for this shit?

It is an
OUTRAGE
that the atmospheric pressure will apparently drop
to the point that RAIN is
clearly on its way tomorrow!
I was planning on snapping a perfect Easter Picture at 11:45 AM after Church.
This was not predicted!
What the Fuck?
Who is responsible for this shit?

It is an
OUTRAGE
that my two favorite TV shows
are being broadcast simultaneously this fall.
Don’t they know that I can’t afford TIVO
because of the
OUTRAGE
that my Internet connection is down today,
and I can’t get a signal on my god damn cell phone,
and I can’t book the fucking installation before
this goddamn limited time GROUPON EXPIRES!
What the Fuck?
WHO IS FUCKING RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS SHIT!!!!????

I am OUTRAGED!
and I am INCENSED!
and I am beside myself with ANGER and FRUSTRATION!

And I have become
something
so worn out and
distracted
that I’ve lost my way
in this complicated place.

such outrage.
now infuses my dreams.
every night.
and they ravage me so.
and I can’t find my way back.


Tim Raven

Tim Raven
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby Tim Raven » Fri Mar 01, 2013 8:21 am

Hearts of Oak

Scholars have told me
that the heart is a muscle
experience tells me
the heart is a vessel
both craft and container
an embracer of soul

So gather your guests
both family and friends
and hold them deep
and safe
within
your loving
hearts
of
oak


Tim Raven

paul
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby paul » Sun Mar 03, 2013 1:22 am

This feels like a good idea at the right time, Tim. Not sure why I never bothered to start a poetry thread meself. Good call.

I don't get into long discussions over the course of days, weeks, months online. In person, yep. Want a nine-our diatribe on the decent of civil discourse in politics? Give me a pitcher of kamikazes, wind me up and point me in the direction of the media or the White House. But trying to sell my point to someone in writing? Better a story, a poem, that they can take away for themselves.

I haven't been writing in a while. The usual reasons: worries, money, job, procrastination. Sandra's recent two minute quickies every day is a brilliant way to keep sharp. Sometimes I need a little kick in the incentive to get me going. Perhaps this will be it. Thanks for starting this, and for sharing, man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love's Truck Stop

Grinding tiny hours into
little waiting people,
force feeding their egos with
their delicious heart's desire.
Always ordering another course,
never picking up the check. Tell me,
how does your burger taste?

PH1998
The medium is the message.

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Rick Keeney
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Location: Minneapolis, MN

play, the field of

Postby Rick Keeney » Wed Mar 06, 2013 10:19 am

(I just submitted this one.)


Stroking the Needle

Seven guys in the tank
awaiting their chance
to put one into
the bowl.
That greened copper cup.

Seven strokers:
six on enameled stools-
the Fuzz Man standing-
wringing wrists,
taping fists,
reading lists;
already perspiring
like meathoused hens,
and ready to own the field of play.

Seven
dulled, flattened game magnets
epoxied onto seven improvised welding masks.
Ready to play the pinch.
Ready to make it a game.

Stolen, too small uniforms,
denoting rank more than
geography.
Black socks
dead around ankles thicker than trees.
Bare arms
like toddlers
sleeved too tight,
biceps in raw cotton,
clamped like tourniquets.
And faces
smooth-shaven
painted faces
tattooed faces
anything to render them
unrecognizable,
still within the rules.

The indecipherable rules.

Bang Bang is in the trench
making it impossible to score
even a half point-
even a chance at a half point.
Bang Bang standing in the way
of the vaguest hint
of a notion
of success.

Now the stroker
rears back
and takes the spike from a runner’s satchel,
lays it in a groove
wider than a hedgerow and narrower
than a sidewalk.
Blows it up,
so to speak.

That damned needle
may as well be invisible
for all the chance the stroker-
or the double stroker,
for that matter-
has at a snag.

Dart metal whistling past
Herschel’s clueless eyelids;
his unmoving wind magnet
useless in the face
of a smoked needle.

“Ya gotta get on it
to get in it!”
comes the familiar taunt
from a spy
in the well-shielded grandstand.

Luff,
(number fifteen hundred
according to the
half-assed
scrawl on the back
of his
jersey)
Luff
leans over to his trench partner,
Adderly,
says
“Bang Bang leaves it offspeed
for a single launch,
and that crowd-turd will eat
my next
freed pinch.
Gare-OWN-tee.”

Seven guys
all that stands between
the fame of an imponderable game
and the spiked and turned dirt of failure.

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FrankChurch
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby FrankChurch » Wed Mar 06, 2013 10:49 am

Keenster's a student of Ginsburg.

diane bartels
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Re: Spill yer guts.

Postby diane bartels » Sat Mar 09, 2013 2:08 am

The rain in Spain
falls mostly in the drain.
It can be a pain
for it is
a blood reign.


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