The MoFo Poetry Club

Can you tell me where I can find it?
That thing?
I do not know what to call it,
I do not know what it is.
But it is that something
I am missing
Something I am driven
beyond all rationality
something that I must find.

Someone told me that I might find it through God
but he either wasn't listening
or he was never there.
I found nothing to replace my nothing
and it left me emptier still.

I tried to find it through love
Another to complete me
and make me whole
But the empty part of me
shrieked like a demon
and it left me emptier still

So can you tell me where to find it?
This completion of me
Do you even know what to call it?
Or are you searching just as hard?
Running on that hedonic treadmill
Faster and faster.
Filling ourselves with instant gratification
Love, pleasure, sex
until we are exhausted. Spent.
And we are left emptier still.

Did you write that yourself, Godoggo?

I did.

Good job G

I wrote this a couple years ago. The formatting should be different, but it's okay.

For My Daughter, Born Last Year

arching back, extended arms, stretching fingers
the magic of a curiosity
arising from innocence
her eyes shine with happiness
her perfect lips smile while marveling,
as if saying, “you are good, and all is good”
but if those lips have never given form to evil,
can they possibly know of goodness?
yes! yes, they can!
for they declare:
everything is wonder, and is wonderful
everything is new, and is wonderful
everything is joy, and is wonderful
because this is the world where simplicity
is held up by billions of years of chaos,
if by chaos we mean the amazement and mystery
of somethingness
eyes uplifted, steps uncertain, hands pushing forward
the upturned chin, the unabashed smile, the unashamed laughter
this is the joy of life
the meaning of existence
hips in motion, stop, thrust, swing,
as sounds become beats and beats become
rhythms
and rhythms become songs
head bobbing, up and down, bobbing,
as if to say, “this is good, and all is good”
and who am I to refute such a claim,
if just momentarily
captivated,
unknown to myself in this very instance....
This is my daughter, and I love her very much.

__________________
I may go back to hating you. It was more fun.

It's really beautiful, Godoggo. I found it to be very relatable as well. Great job.

The Decision

There are four to choose from, one will be King
The one we choose to rule our everything
A rich man, an old man, a woman, and a safety
In case the rich man grows bored and leaves hastily

We want their agenda, we want their best
we need proper guidance, be greater than the rest
The four people fight, point, and try hard
but is their a leader amongst these cards?

The most powerful nation served up on a platter
We the people decide on what matters
Their character, their plan, their vision, and truth
Most wish to vote in the uncouth

In November we'll know who the President will be
We'll remember this election, and when we were free
The nation will know who was right and was wrong
I hope we'll choose wisely the voice of our song

Thank you! Poetry and prose isn't my strongest style of writing, so I've really been trying to work on it.

Let It Unfold by Zotis

In the vase
On the kitchen counter
Was the first place you tasted hell

Nine years old enough to know
You shouldn't play with lighters

You burned your parents'
White picket dream
Along with your infant brother

Flower petals burn so gently
'Till they're burning the carpet
And the carpet's burning the wall

Now look at you baby
You're damaged goods
You and everyone else who's ever suffered such an event

Damaged in glorious blazes
And plane crashes
A necklace of scars
Is all you have to show

Let it all unfold
Let it all unfold

You're just a derailed train
And a car wreck away
From never being able to look at your face in the mirror again

Let it all unfold
Let it all unfold

Don't bury it all
In boxes in the attic
Only open me on the weekend

An attempt to revive this thread. Written by G. Atsby

Like an aquarium without any fish
Like a horror movie for the squeamish
Something about them aren’t right
But it wasn’t like that before I left

Staring into an empty tank
I see my own fake reflection
While watching the inoffensive
My thoughts become defensive

This kind of world, this world
It requires a dose of sadness
But they won’t let me, they won’t
Why won’t they let me, I wonder

Hakuna Matata my ass
Cmon, just let me pass
Hakuna Matata my ass
Cmon, just let me pass

__________________
Letterboxd Profile: https://letterboxd.com/GatsbyG/

The Poker House by Zotis

"I race the sun home in the morning,
And the moon up at night.
There's just today,
And then there's tonight.
Anything can happen,
And anything does.
Get through it."

Now you know,
How much he loves you,
Now that he raped you.
How could you know?
You were only fourteen.
Life can be so cruel.

I know it's hard to be,
When you are suffering.
It breaks my heart to see,
You shatter,
And put back together,
With so little care.

It's war,
Right from the womb,
With unguided rage,
And misguided blame.
Shield yourself under the circumstances.
Baby you know,
God never lies.

I know it's hard,
But you have sinned.
You are not perfect.
You are the one,
Under inspection.
You failed him.

You can't blame a locked door.
You can't blame your father.
Cover yourself in sackcloth.
In ashes repent.

-Quote from The Poker House (2008)

I made this for a challenge in Speed Survivor. Starts out pretty rocky but smooths out some. TONGOIs poetry bends to the juvenile

The Thing

A poem

In the antarctica plains
Two men lay huddled yet sane
A bottle of whiskey they pass to each other
They drink by the fire to not freeze or shudder

Both men have flamethrowers thet they hold
They stare and wonder of each other in the cold
MacReady wonders "Is Childs that Thing?"
Childs thoughts are his own, as is everything



"MacReady, how am I supposed to know youre you?"
MacReady looks at him, and says "Childs choose"
"You can try and engulf me with your flamethrower
or give me some blood in this cup Ill hand over''

Childs stares and say "This again. Great."
"Sorry Childs, but if youre it youll hibernate"
The cold has no effect on the alien creature
The being would sleep, and could endanger the future.



MacReady started calmly, hed killed an innocent man before
Childs knew he wouldnt hesitate, he had to be sure
"Ok MacReady here we go" said Childs at last
Then Childs face propeled from its skull quite fast.

Childs face skin attempted to envelop MacReady
Like an anteaters tongue shooting forth quite freely
MacReady was weary, but ready for the attack
He simply pulled the trigger to fight back



The flames spit forth enveloping Childs
The being was struck, its form went wild
As MacReady engulfed the creature in flame
Its organic mass did to MacReady the same

Its flaming flesh desperate to kill him
To become the man then sleep a millenium
MacReady knew this was his last day
As he aimed the flamethrower at the other one that lay

The explosion erupted flame everywhere
Then MacReady pack exploded so thered be no err
As he screamed his last living breath
It did to, and finally met death.

Rein, reign, rain
English is a pain
Blame it on the linguists
Especially old man Chomsky

Bow, bow, bow
English will grow
In your head and nerves
It swiftly occupies fragile minds

To, two, too
English is poo
What else could describe
Such annoyance, such pain?

OY! I LOST! My Thing Poem wasnt greatness, but it lost to this drawing by Tat...



I shall never write poetry again!!

I saw a saw

I like me some beet and wheat,
Sh*t on my sheet
Neat excrete!
Oh wait, it's not peat, it's gleet
I tasted it! Bittersweet!
I won't eat, I prefer meat
Please meet and greet
this horny athlete
he's kinda offbeat and also petite
His name is Pete
I can hear him bleat, he must be effete
But be discreet, about his gamete

Liked it? REPEAT!

EVERYDAY I'M EATING SKULLS
CANNIBALISM GOALS

- MC Swan

I thought cannibalism was the act of eating human flesh.

It is, but I like the idea that their GOALS are eating the bones, too. They never reach it though because they get full on flesh!

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?