Least Read Poems About Culture
#culture
Least read poems about culture. Find an undiscovered masterpiece in the DU Poetry least read poems.
Vandel_Viaclovsky
Van
Van
Poem Published
6th Nov 2024 00:39am
6th Nov 2024 00:39am
Clown Car Aquarium
A clown car like an aquarium, its paint
A slop of false gold. Inside, beta fish swim
In the swill and piss it holds. Slime-eels glide,
Cold and sanctimonious, droll as Stepford wives—
Bottle blond to the tits. Urchins cling, and spit,
And barnacles breed with barnacle wit. Lampreys
Thread in and out of shadows; oyster toads,
With flattened heads and bulging eyes,
Pump their jowls with lies. Bottom feeders
Suck at the floor, more and more; and above them all,
A bloated starfish spews agitprop galore, nonstop,
Claiming the...
A slop of false gold. Inside, beta fish swim
In the swill and piss it holds. Slime-eels glide,
Cold and sanctimonious, droll as Stepford wives—
Bottle blond to the tits. Urchins cling, and spit,
And barnacles breed with barnacle wit. Lampreys
Thread in and out of shadows; oyster toads,
With flattened heads and bulging eyes,
Pump their jowls with lies. Bottom feeders
Suck at the floor, more and more; and above them all,
A bloated starfish spews agitprop galore, nonstop,
Claiming the...
#culture
#fish
5 reads
0 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
Lakeside 21/30
It is a fact, a small fact. A known one
among our kind. Among the singed.
Among the moths of fringes and in their
fringes is this fact burnt from that what
we misunderstand as the moon in the kitchen.
It is a joyous metaphor of the night-blues.
There we edge drawers of butchers
and carvers. There we prosody
with the mashers and the strainers.
The boiling point and the preservatives,
the thermostat that will sink in a side.
All those are emotions ready at hand
for lamentations of...
among our kind. Among the singed.
Among the moths of fringes and in their
fringes is this fact burnt from that what
we misunderstand as the moon in the kitchen.
It is a joyous metaphor of the night-blues.
There we edge drawers of butchers
and carvers. There we prosody
with the mashers and the strainers.
The boiling point and the preservatives,
the thermostat that will sink in a side.
All those are emotions ready at hand
for lamentations of...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
12 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
Lakeside 22/30
We say who we were right then.
Tell me, were you made to uncurl
your proboscis and bend the antennae
down as the television turns into dirty snow.
We disturb each other’s entry-ways
with tell me more, tell me more about the world
outside, I’ve just came from this place,
this cemented state,
something grey and narrow and it wasn’t the sky,
I barely made it out. The subject always
leaves the kitchen lights on with the grace
of a million moons. Somehow, we flew there
without science. Once upon a hot night,
I...
Tell me, were you made to uncurl
your proboscis and bend the antennae
down as the television turns into dirty snow.
We disturb each other’s entry-ways
with tell me more, tell me more about the world
outside, I’ve just came from this place,
this cemented state,
something grey and narrow and it wasn’t the sky,
I barely made it out. The subject always
leaves the kitchen lights on with the grace
of a million moons. Somehow, we flew there
without science. Once upon a hot night,
I...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
12 reads
2 Comments
Poetic_Strength
Poem Published
4th Jun 2020 2:52am
4th Jun 2020 2:52am
Uncut the Mid 2020
When the clock stroke eleven fifty-nine
On December twenty nineteenth
Less then a minute for what
Would be the new norm,
Who would have thought,
That was the last “normal”
the world would ever witness.
Each passing of days,
Its more challenging to live
To breath,
The oxygen that freely was given
If humanity would practice more kindness
We would be two steps forward
Then centuries backwards,
The last couple of days,
Hesitant
and pondering on what seem
to be extraterrestrial,
Voices...
On December twenty nineteenth
Less then a minute for what
Would be the new norm,
Who would have thought,
That was the last “normal”
the world would ever witness.
Each passing of days,
Its more challenging to live
To breath,
The oxygen that freely was given
If humanity would practice more kindness
We would be two steps forward
Then centuries backwards,
The last couple of days,
Hesitant
and pondering on what seem
to be extraterrestrial,
Voices...
#LifeStruggles
#tragedy
#greed
#culture
#morality
13 reads
6 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
21st Apr 2019 7:14am
21st Apr 2019 7:14am
Lakeside 18/30
The freeze retreats
like crumpled paper,
the birds skid in,
tossing the ozone
of their wings. They
are signing home
in the sounds of our ghost
cinema. The music is
in ripples as we skip
flat, trying to feel it
through our hair, spines,
and calves. We have
emptied so that it echoes.
With our claws we rake the air
as rain, brush our hair,
toss a salad, scratch
our spines, cramp
our calves, and grow
the hay. We say theory
of mind and I see
what you’re saying
from the...
like crumpled paper,
the birds skid in,
tossing the ozone
of their wings. They
are signing home
in the sounds of our ghost
cinema. The music is
in ripples as we skip
flat, trying to feel it
through our hair, spines,
and calves. We have
emptied so that it echoes.
With our claws we rake the air
as rain, brush our hair,
toss a salad, scratch
our spines, cramp
our calves, and grow
the hay. We say theory
of mind and I see
what you’re saying
from the...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
2nd Apr 2020 7:14am
2nd Apr 2020 7:14am
This strange bouquet 1/30
This strange bouquet
of micro-
organisms, poisoning as glassed dandelion
seeds blown, people skirting to a ball wearing bal-
aclavas, canvases
across their mouths highlight the speaking
eyes, the clear palpable
distance
in the torque language is
fear
swallowing an air swarm
Oh, belle-
donnas, you are a
quaquaversal vein
through the micro-scope
of space
of micro-
organisms, poisoning as glassed dandelion
seeds blown, people skirting to a ball wearing bal-
aclavas, canvases
across their mouths highlight the speaking
eyes, the clear palpable
distance
in the torque language is
fear
swallowing an air swarm
Oh, belle-
donnas, you are a
quaquaversal vein
through the micro-scope
of space
#politics
#apocalypse
#culture #fear
#culture #fear
14 reads
6 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
20th Apr 2019 7:50am
20th Apr 2019 7:50am
Lakeside 17/30
In this moment
the wooly foam
of moving words
are what lights
our way to each other
in a limbo
of limbs.
Upon the stillness
a row of us
stumble as dominos
with numbers
denoting our fronts
and compress the snow.
Under the moon
we pack our
elbow knees knuckles
with our names
as muscle memory
paired with that
which can bend
an opening.
What our body
forgets friends
will return
in the cumulative
history of their bodies.
...
the wooly foam
of moving words
are what lights
our way to each other
in a limbo
of limbs.
Upon the stillness
a row of us
stumble as dominos
with numbers
denoting our fronts
and compress the snow.
Under the moon
we pack our
elbow knees knuckles
with our names
as muscle memory
paired with that
which can bend
an opening.
What our body
forgets friends
will return
in the cumulative
history of their bodies.
...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
15 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
22nd Apr 2019 3:57pm
22nd Apr 2019 3:57pm
Lakeside 20/30
Let us hang our hands
besides our mirror;
this is a time of publicness.
Consider strings tugging eyebrows
and lips curling a cat’s tail-
irritation or affirmation.
Squint, squelch and things
become quantum expressions-
only with known parameters,
full stops and a fateful
morse face.
Widen, warp into chipmunk
cheeks of autumn and eyeful
words are now chunks
of distance past Mars-
only with known extremities.
Our rooms are no rooms
at all even though they
have...
besides our mirror;
this is a time of publicness.
Consider strings tugging eyebrows
and lips curling a cat’s tail-
irritation or affirmation.
Squint, squelch and things
become quantum expressions-
only with known parameters,
full stops and a fateful
morse face.
Widen, warp into chipmunk
cheeks of autumn and eyeful
words are now chunks
of distance past Mars-
only with known extremities.
Our rooms are no rooms
at all even though they
have...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
16 reads
1 Comment
yelluw_always
Poem Published
27th Apr 2019 7:20am
27th Apr 2019 7:20am
Lakeside 26/30
A different kind of ending
is happening in the underbrush
you might see it as a kind of matted
with its braids and twisted
bodies making do with space though it appears a mess
a real pollack moment of turning a head
everything appears fast
appears indiscernible and indescribable and streamed
of starved language
pretty much it’s a whirligig or a thingamabob
that all needs to be weed-whacked
to most
flattening what exists in a layer between control and worldview
mowers and machetes, landscapers...
is happening in the underbrush
you might see it as a kind of matted
with its braids and twisted
bodies making do with space though it appears a mess
a real pollack moment of turning a head
everything appears fast
appears indiscernible and indescribable and streamed
of starved language
pretty much it’s a whirligig or a thingamabob
that all needs to be weed-whacked
to most
flattening what exists in a layer between control and worldview
mowers and machetes, landscapers...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
16 reads
7 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
28th Apr 2019 6:02am
28th Apr 2019 6:02am
Lakeside 27/30
So we clap like trees in a life-
sustaining storm, shaking and
shaking in cheer, we sprout tendrils
with something to say and spread wide
not as a mouth but blanket the air
with our touch and slough the drops
to this lake of ours. Hearts dense of weathering,
here we condense to that of a wave
cresting without gravity. Look, we fly
our thoughts to stage, leaves turning over
our tender undersides, a brightness
that belies the sunny side-up
waxiness of daily frying beach days.
That is not to say we...
sustaining storm, shaking and
shaking in cheer, we sprout tendrils
with something to say and spread wide
not as a mouth but blanket the air
with our touch and slough the drops
to this lake of ours. Hearts dense of weathering,
here we condense to that of a wave
cresting without gravity. Look, we fly
our thoughts to stage, leaves turning over
our tender undersides, a brightness
that belies the sunny side-up
waxiness of daily frying beach days.
That is not to say we...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
17 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
13th Jan 2019 10:24pm
13th Jan 2019 10:24pm
A Part of the Northwest Manifesto
All this burst rain
bears the development of gills,
fins cannot handle mercurial
umbrellas and so these hands do not.
Spot the unswimmers, tourists,
underneath their mushroom air pockets
this is a known known--
a safe solution to snipping
resident inevitability, their freeze is cast
away from shields or are shields against you--
the unknown unknowns are building
a future island
(it won't always anticipate
the unguent of nature or nature's man)
out of backyard Mt. Rainier
and there molted...
bears the development of gills,
fins cannot handle mercurial
umbrellas and so these hands do not.
Spot the unswimmers, tourists,
underneath their mushroom air pockets
this is a known known--
a safe solution to snipping
resident inevitability, their freeze is cast
away from shields or are shields against you--
the unknown unknowns are building
a future island
(it won't always anticipate
the unguent of nature or nature's man)
out of backyard Mt. Rainier
and there molted...
#mythology
#culture
#responsibility
19 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
21st Apr 2019 7:15am
21st Apr 2019 7:15am
Lakeside 19/30
Recreate the geography
of language by coloring
in the phonemes as body
shaped, as where.
Sign language is every
kind of onomatopoeia,
the hands making all kinds
of sounds against our bodies,
through the air, sculpture,
painting, pottery, temporal
and grounding but the after-
effects stay in your throat.
The words are indulged
by your eyes as they close
and you can taste
proprioception.
Space is replicated
into a stack of paper.
Squeeze as if you are seeking
a bed...
of language by coloring
in the phonemes as body
shaped, as where.
Sign language is every
kind of onomatopoeia,
the hands making all kinds
of sounds against our bodies,
through the air, sculpture,
painting, pottery, temporal
and grounding but the after-
effects stay in your throat.
The words are indulged
by your eyes as they close
and you can taste
proprioception.
Space is replicated
into a stack of paper.
Squeeze as if you are seeking
a bed...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
19 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems About Culture
