Originally Posted by Plan9

That's ALL me. Hah, I abuse the tag clouds. I'm sorry. Good thing such is seen as "found poetry."

...

Found scrawled in a plywood latrine in some desert post:

(forgive the caps, copy 'n paste job from my '06 A-stan journal)

"I THINK IT IS IRONIC
THAT THE INCOMPETENT
ORDER THE DEDICATED
TO LEAD THE INNOCENT
TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE
FOR THE UNGRATEFUL
ONLY TO BE FORGOTTEN

SERVING ONLY FOOLS
DEFENDING EACH OTHER
ASKING NO QUESTIONS
YET WONDERING WHY
DYING FOR A COUNTRY
THEY HAVEN'T EVEN
SEEN VERY MUCH OF

TRAINING FOR YEARS
PREPARING FOR WAR
LEAVING A LONELY LIFE
TO GO OFF TO NOWHERE
TO START ANOTHER ONE
TO RETURN TO NOTHING
ONLY TO BE FORGOTTEN"

Originally Posted by roachboy

Last is black woods glittering moon between lower blue valley when sky is only seen as stars above cliffs above foil.

Gutters like everywhere the then-picturesque whitish sun is no puddles that come overflowing then a splashing then a-picking through Today roofs. The shining ones were not in fountains places but the many were in snapped rivulets again.

When tower veiled is not arid when night ends when not sunflowers are mountains gray, are moons from a looked-at village: all is then aluminum even the racing, even the surrounding of not mist when more is dripping, when the old and granite is not the way is not the walls though which the wet rises but is instead a minute gurgling.

When church.
When into clouds.
When in the middle, gurgling.





[[procedure: i put 3 paragraphs from max frisch's "man in the holocene" into a text scrambler then fixed the sentences so they kinda flow grammatically]]