What Is Your Favorite "Manly" Poem?

[gamzultovah]

“Here I sit broken hearted. Tried to shit but only farted”

The first time I read this one I was in the mens rest room at Leaders Lanes bowling alley on Coney Island Avenue, in Brooklyn NY. The year would’ve been 1975. There was a follow-up poem written next to it that went something like this:

“Some people come here to sit and think, others come here to and stink, but I come here to scratch my ️?’s and read the ? on the walls.”

---

Classic lavatory verse never goes out of style.

 

[gamzultovah]

FEAR
by Raymond Carver

Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.

I've said that.

 

[sablebrush52]

Not poetry, per se, but a slightly different take on the Season, courtesy of Tom Lehrer:

Christmas time is here by golly,
Disapproval would be folly,
Deck the halls with hunks of holly,
Fill the cup and don't say "when"
Kill the turkeys, ducks, and chickens,
Mix the punch, drag out the Dickens,
Even though the prospect sickens,
Brother, here we go again.

On Christmas day you can't get sore,
Your fellow man you must adore.
There's time to cheat him all the more,
The other three hundred and sixty-four.

Relations, sparing no expense'll
Send some useless old utensil,
Or a matching pen and pencil,
"Just the thing I need, how nice!"
It doesn't matter how sincere it
Is, nor how heartfelt the spirit,
Sentiment will not endear it,
What's important is the price.

Hark the Herald Tribune sings,
Advertising wondrous thing,
God rest ye merry merchants,
May you make the Yuletide pay.
Let jingle bells celebrate,
From San Francisco's Golden Gate,
To the little town of Bethlehem, PA.

So, hear the raucous sleigh bells jingle,
Hail our dear old friend Kris Kringle,
Driving his reindeer across the sky,
Don't stand underneath when they fly by.

 

[gamzultovah]

For the past two years…

 

[gamzultovah]

Not poetry, per se, but a slightly different take on the Season, courtesy of Tom Lehrer:

Christmas time is here by golly,
Disapproval would be folly,
Deck the halls with hunks of holly,
Fill the cup and don't say "when"
Kill the turkeys, ducks, and chickens,
Mix the punch, drag out the Dickens,
Even though the prospect sickens,
Brother, here we go again.

On Christmas day you can't get sore,
Your fellow man you must adore.
There's time to cheat him all the more,
The other three hundred and sixty-four.

Relations, sparing no expense'll
Send some useless old utensil,
Or a matching pen and pencil,
"Just the thing I need, how nice!"
It doesn't matter how sincere it
Is, nor how heartfelt the spirit,
Sentiment will not endear it,
What's important is the price.

Hark the Herald Tribune sings,
Advertising wondrous thing,
God rest ye merry merchants,
May you make the Yuletide pay.
Let jingle bells celebrate,
From San Francisco's Golden Gate,
To the little town of Bethlehem, PA.

So, hear the raucous sleigh bells jingle,
Hail our dear old friend Kris Kringle,
Driving his reindeer across the sky,
Don't stand underneath when they fly by.

Sad, but for the vast majority, undeniably true.

 

[HawkeyeLinus]

Parts of two favorites from forever.

“And laying a finger aside of his nose …”

“Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore’.”

 

[Bengel]

GK Chesterton

THE WISE MEN​

Step softly, under snow or rain,
To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all labyrinthine lore,
We are the three wise men of yore,
And we know all things but the truth.

We have gone round and round the hill,
And lost the wood among the trees,
And learnt long names for every ill,
And served the mad gods, naming still
The Furies the Eumenides.

The gods of violence took the veil
Of vision and philosophy,
The Serpent that brought all men bale,
He bites his own accursed tail,
And calls himself Eternity.

Go humbly ... it has hailed and snowed ...
With voices low and lanterns lit;
So very simple is the road,
That we may stray from it.

The world grows terrible and white,
And blinding white the breaking day;
We walk bewildered in the light,
For something is too large for sight,
And something much too plain to say.

The Child that was ere worlds begun
(... We need but walk a little way,
We need but see a latch undone,...)
The Child that played with moon and sun
Is playing with a little hay.

The house from which the heavens are fed,
The old strange house that is our own,
Where tricks of words are never said.
And Mercy is as plain as bread,
And Honour is as hard as stone.

Go humbly; humble are the skies,
And low and large and fierce the Star;
So very near the Manger lies
That we may travel far.

Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes
To roar to the resounding plain,
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes,
For God Himself is born again,
And we are little children walking
Through the snow and rain.

 

[gamzultovah]

Do not love half lovers
Do not entertain half friends
Do not indulge in works of the half talented
Do not live half a life
and do not die a half death
If you choose silence, then be silent
When you speak, do so until you are finished
Do not silence yourself to say something
And do not speak to be silent
If you accept, then express it bluntly
Do not mask it
If you refuse then be clear about it
for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance
Do not accept half a solution
Do not believe half truths
Do not dream half a dream
Do not fantasize about half hopes
Half a drink will not quench your thirst
Half a meal will not satiate your hunger
Half the way will get you no where
Half an idea will bear you no results
Your other half is not the one you love
It is you in another time yet in the same space
It is you when you are not
Half a life is a life you didn't live,
A word you have not said
A smile you postponed
A love you have not had
A friendship you did not know
To reach and not arrive
Work and not work
Attend only to be absent
What makes you a stranger to them closest to you
and they strangers to you
The half is a mere moment of inability
but you are able for you are not half a being
You are a whole that exists to live a life
not half a life
Gibran Khalil Gibran

 

[gamzultovah]

Whene'er I take my pipe and stuff it
And smoke to pass the time away
My thoughts, as I sit there and puff it,
Dwell on a picture sad and grey:
It teaches me that very like
Am I myself unto my pipe.

Like me this pipe, so fragrant burning,
Is made of naught but earthen clay;
To earth I too shall be returning,
And cannot halt my slow decay.
My well used pipe, now cracked and broken,
Of mortal life is but a token.

No stain, the pipe's hue yet doth darken;
It remains white. Thus do I know
That when to death's call I must harken
My body, too, all pale will grow.
To black beneath the sod 'twill turn,
Likewise the pipe, if oft it burn.

Or when the pipe is fairly glowing,
Behold then instantaneously,
The smoke off into thin air going,
'Til naught but ash is left to see.
Man's fame likewise away will burn
And unto dust his body turn.

How oft it happens when one's smoking,
The tamper's missing from it's shelf,
And one goes with one's finger poking
Into the bowl and burns oneself.
If in the pipe such pain doth dwell
How hot must be the pains of Hell!

Thus o'er my pipe in contemplation
Of such things - I can constantly
Indulge in fruitful meditation,
And so, puffing contentedly,
On land, at sea, at home, abroad,
I smoke my pipe and worship God.

~ Johann Sebastian Bach

 

[Bengel]

“From the cowardice that shrinks from new truths, from laziness that is content in half truths, from arrogance that thinks it knows all truth, from gullibility that embraces falsehood as truth, O God of truth, deliver us.”

 

[gamzultovah]

 

[gamzultovah]

Desiderata

GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

~ Max Ehrmann © 1927

 

[Bengel]

"You Don't Understand"

You don't understand
How hard it can be for one man
You don't understand
I was taken in
You don't wanna know that there's evil in the land
You don't understand
How bad people can be
What happened to me
You don't understand

There's skulduggery about
You don't believe, you don't believe how bad it can be
'Cause you don't wanna see
What's happened to me
What they can do to you
You don't have a clue
I'm only one man
You don't understand

Can't trust human nature
Can't trust human nature, no matter what you do
Human nature can't be trusted
Human nature can't be true

Trying to see through the celtic mist
Does freedom of speech exist?
What free state is this?
You don't understand how they work in the dark
You don't understand what it's like to be a mark
You don't understand how bad it is, I was taken in
You don't understand how mad and dangerous some people can be

You can't trust human nature
No matter what anyone tells you to do
Human nature can't be true
'Cause it's only human through and through

Trying to see through the celtic mist
Does freedom of speech exist?
What free state is this?
You don't understand how they work in the dark
You don't understand what it's like to be a mark
You don't understand how I was taken in
How mad, bad, and dangerous
How mad, bad, and dangerous some people can be
Why can't you see?

Take my name in vain
Cause me to be wrecked and strained
People that are comfortably insane
Feels like a ball and chain
Pounding on my brain
You don't understand
You don't understand my life is in shreds
You don't understand
You don't understand
You don't wanna believe how bad it is
You don't understand how bad it can get
You don't understand how sad it is
You don't understand how my life is in shreds
I just wanna put it to bed, put it away
You don't understand
You just can't comprehend
Driving me round the bend
You don't understand
You don't understand
You don't understand
You don't understand
Alright

You don't understand
You don't understand
You don't understand
You don't understand
You just don't understand
Van Morrison

 

[autumnfog]

Another Academy

how can they gon on, you see them
sitting in old doorways
with dirty stained caps and thick clothes and
no place to go;
heads bent down, arms on
knees they
wait.
or stand in front of the Mission
700 of them
quiet as oxen
waiting to be let into the chapel
where they will sleep upright on the hard benches
leaning against each other
snoring and
dreaming;
men
without.

in New York City
where it gets colder
and they are hunted by their own
kind, these men often crawl under car radiators
drink the anti-freeze,
get warm and grateful for some minutes, then
die.

but that is an older
culture and a wiser
one;
here they scratch and wait,
while on Sunset Boulevard the
hippies and yippies
hitchhike in
$50
boots.

out in front of the Mission I heard one guy say to
another:
”John Wayne won it”
”Won what?” said the other guy
tossing the last of his rolled cigarette into the
street.

I thought that was
rather good.
-
Charles Bukowski

 

[Bengel]

"If We Wait For Mountains"

The world is full of wonder
It's never far away
It's right before your eyes
Every single day

Look of lovers walking hand in hand
Sound of music from a big band
Antique market in the village square
Pretty waitress with the long blonde hair

You'd find something every day
Take your breath away
World is filled with wonder
No matter what they say

You don't have to wait for mountains
Lift your spirits high
Wide oceans or deep valleys
Or eagles flying by

Wonders all around us
And life is all we've got
If you wait for mountains
Then you're gonna miss a lot

Look of lovers walking hand in hand
Sound of music from a big band
Antique market in the village square
Pretty waitress with the long blonde hair

You don't have to wait
Lift your spirits high
'Cause love is all around us
That's the reason why

Love is all around us
Life is all we've got
If we wait for mountains
Then we're gonna miss a lot
Van Morrison

 

[Streeper541]

I Am The Bull

I am the bull of the moonlight meadow.
When I fart, I change the weather.
When I sh!t, it kills miles of grass.
And the whole world trembles, when I wipe my @ss! ?

 

[daytonsean]

“ I mean, we're looking down on Wayne's basement. Only that's not Wayne's basement. Isn't that weird? “

 

[gamzultovah]

“Demand not that events should happen as you wish; but wish them to happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.”

~ Epictetus, The Enchiridion

 

[kcghost]

Doc Watson – The Dream Of The Miner's Child Lyrics
(Robert Donnely, Will Geddes)

A miner was leaving his home for his work
When he heard his little child scream.
He went to the side of the little girl's bed;
She said, "Daddy, I've had such a dream!"
"Please, daddy, don't go to the mines today,
For dreams have so often come true.
My daddy, my daddy, please don't go away,
For I never could live without you. "

Then smiling and stroking the little girl's face,
He was turning away from her side.
But she threw her small arms around daddy's neck;
She gave him a kiss and then cried:

"Oh, I dreamed that the mines were all flaming with
Fire,
And the men all fought for their lives.
Just then the scene changed, and the mouth of the mines
Was covered with sweethearts and wives. "

"Oh, daddy, don't go to the mines today,
For dreams have so often come true.
My daddy, my daddy, please don't go away,
For I never could live without you. "

"Go down to the village and tell your dear friends
That as sure as the bright stars do shine,
There is something that's going to happen today;
Please, daddy, don't go to the mines. "

"Oh, daddy, don't work in the mines today,
For dreams have so often come true.
My daddy, my daddy, please don't go away,
For I never could live without you. "

 

[samanden]

Hard Rock Returns to Prison from the Hospital for the Criminal Insane​

BY ETHERIDGE KNIGHT
Hard Rock / was / “known not to take no shit
From nobody,” and he had the scars to prove it:
Split purple lips, lumbed ears, welts above
His yellow eyes, and one long scar that cut
Across his temple and plowed through a thick
Canopy of kinky hair.

The WORD / was / that Hard Rock wasn’t a mean nigger
Anymore, that the doctors had bored a hole in his head,
Cut out part of his brain, and shot electricity
Through the rest. When they brought Hard Rock back,
Handcuffed and chained, he was turned loose,
Like a freshly gelded stallion, to try his new status.
And we all waited and watched, like a herd of sheep,
To see if the WORD was true.

As we waited we wrapped ourselves in the cloak
Of his exploits: “Man, the last time, it took eight
Screws to put him in the Hole.” “Yeah, remember when he
Smacked the captain with his dinner tray?” “He set
The record for time in the Hole—67 straight days!”
“Ol Hard Rock! man, that’s one crazy nigger.”
And then the jewel of a myth that Hard Rock had once bit
A screw on the thumb and poisoned him with syphilitic spit.

The testing came, to see if Hard Rock was really tame.
A hillbilly called him a black son of a bitch
And didn’t lose his teeth, a screw who knew Hard Rock
From before shook him down and barked in his face.
And Hard Rock did nothing. Just grinned and looked silly,
His eyes empty like knot holes in a fence.

And even after we discovered that it took Hard Rock
Exactly 3 minutes to tell you his first name,
We told ourselves that he had just wised up,
Was being cool; but we could not fool ourselves for long,
And we turned away, our eyes on the ground. Crushed.
He had been our Destroyer, the doer of things
We dreamed of doing but could not bring ourselves to do,
The fears of years, like a biting whip,
Had cut deep bloody grooves
Across our backs.