The Rolling 2006 Blank Verse Thread

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Pornography was once a poet's art;
Great-grandma didn't know what bondage was
Until she bought a book of dirty sonnets
From Sam the grocer boy. But here's the deal:
I ask you, ILXors, to exchange
Some sentiments in neat iambic verse
For my amusement. Jagger's Cambridge wit
And eloquence are more than welcome here,
And Haikunym will dignify this thread
With pure poetic genius. Yeah, I know
Proselytitties is a pseudonym.
What kind of fool would start a thread so lame
And sign it with his own respected name?

― Proselytitties (Proselytitties), Thursday, 5 October 2006 07:28 (nineteen years ago)

It's not something I think I've done before
at least I'm game to take the thread and try
and if the beat escapes me as I speak
I know that those among you will cry foul.

― mark grout (mark grout), Thursday, 5 October 2006 07:41 (nineteen years ago)

Don't worry -- white men always lose the beat,
But as they say, it's melody that counts,
And rhythm's just a primitive device
With which James Brown is waging war against
The beauty and the order of the world.

― Proselytitties (Proselytitties), Thursday, 5 October 2006 08:12 (nineteen years ago)

But hark, what brick through yonder window breaks?
It's not the Louis Jagger mass debate?
I thought they'd put that flame war back to bed!
Or are they massing against me instead?

― mark grout (mark grout), Thursday, 5 October 2006 08:17 (nineteen years ago)

"Oh, Louis Louis, no, me gotta go,
I-yi-yi-yi I said Louis Louis.

"Three nights and days I sail the ship and think,
Think of the girl who's on that ship. I dream
She's there. I smell the rose that's in her hair.

"Oh, Louis Louis, no, me gotta go,
I-yi-yi-yi I said Louis Louis."

― SaladinBiscuits (Proselytitties), Thursday, 5 October 2006 08:29 (nineteen years ago)

(The Kingsmen did it better. Fuck this thread.)

― SaladinBiscuits (Proselytitties), Thursday, 5 October 2006 08:30 (nineteen years ago)

Willie Wilde arguably did it worst:

And every soul was mine, mine utterly,
And thrice each throat cried out aloud my name.
"Ask what thou wilt," black-bearded Herod said.
"God wot a weird thing do I crave for prize;
Give me I pray thee, presently, the head
Of John the Baptist." 'Twixt my hands it lies.
Ah, mother, see the lips, the half-closed eyes,
Dost think he hates us now that he is dead?

― Marcello Carlin (nostudium), Thursday, 5 October 2006 09:47 (nineteen years ago)

Revive this thread; it's dying as I speak.
And mods, I'd like to change the title to
"The Rolling Blank Verse Thread 2006."

― Proselytitties (Proselytitties), Friday, 6 October 2006 23:41 (nineteen years ago)

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