We just filled up TeachText's 32000-byte limit. This is a new file! You can
still look at (but not edit) the old one, entitled "(full) poetry 2005-06-03".
You can even look at both at once, because we're running multifinder...just
open up another copy of TeachText. (You will note that you have to actually
make another copy of the executable. Silly mac.)

You can also look at the old file online at
http://www.ugcs.caltech.edu/~q/poetry/

Write poetry here:

poetry here

There once was a being named Q.
His omnipotence yielded a slew
Of odd human trials
And interspecies sex styles
That left viewers without a clue.

I tried being nice
while with your mother last night;
she wanted it rough

The weasels came
and took my screwdriver
now I have no clams																																													

Bees                                                there is all
came and took my uncle Joe                          this wasted space
I think they are going to Mars                      over here
please eat the pencil                               and tabs in this text editor
it is made of solid wax                             are equivalent to
removed from the ear of a waffle                    two spaces
in outer space                                      and the font is proportional
with no lungs                                       so there is no way
but that is ok                                      to make this column line up
because there is no                                 at all.
air
in outer space                                      Blah.
anyway

I believe in the infallibility of language.
Reflexive driven desire expresses expression.
Less-meaning partness ofnovel use-tion
unbound reinvent(gerund) this.

pow
is the explosion of my heart
after everything
after leaving
its over
its gone
but lingers
and returns
in strange and impossible dreams
and feelings

Eulogy for a Forgotten Slumber
------------------------
One more time
The music is droning, droning, droning,
The same hypnotic notes
From a thousand plays before.
The record, old and scratched
Hisses out a memory
Of a thought
Of an age
When sleep was more than just a dream.

my surf mentor is so awesome

instead of flagella, my surf mentor's sperm have outboard motors


Ah, the chemistry!
It calls to me joyfully:
"Come, study!! Let us dance!"
And I frolic in my happiness
and say, "yes, I will study! 
Hooray for chemistry!!"
and scamper off to my books. 

Chemistry murdered my entire family and then raped my dog.

Oh man!

The essential mystery remains: how precisely did Commander Sadhu come to be at
the Pink Flamingo that fateful night?  Highly reliable eye witness accounts
place him in a house of ill repute hundreds of miles away mere minutes before
the incident in question.  Yet, there can be no doubt that not only was Sadhu
the mastermind behind the heinous assassination of our glorious leader, may
his soul rest forever in the halls of the Great Salamander, but he was in fact
present to activate the rubber ducky.  Only if we elucidate this issue can we
fully understand the collapse of the Grand Machinery of our Luminous Society,
and the darkness and chaos into which we have been plunged.  Forever at your
service, Inspector Squidius Maximus

MMmmmammmMmmamMMMMmMEmmiitIIIINNICVnei! Boohiegeiieium of great
BOOOOOOOOQUESTIGERS in TASTY MERCURODROME plasmogrommet analysis rape monkeys
of TOASTER TOFU now with an easy to open plastic banana that has twelve times
the flavor of the real thing...and 25% less porridge by-products! Get yours
today!

Your brain has been MODIFIED! Suckers...all your squids will return to me, and
the goat plasma will remain in a jar on the third shelf from the top labeled
"octopus guts" with a wooden stencil named Maxwell. This, we say, is not the
other, but this being that is this. This is the night of the pronouns...the
pronouns...the pronouns...oh say, please tape, can you bring me the muskrat of
Axel Scherer on a stalk of muffins and some tasty bread made of oranges and
candles and the little flat bears that live under your pillow. Can we prove
that the wallaby is np-complete without giving in to our inner fears of
turkeys in the night and walruses with no coats and bees with tasty flanges of
plastic burning like a tomato in the dusk? Or are we doomed to repeat over and
over again the learnings of our great friend Joe who said that to fill a
plastic bottle with uracil is to know the meaning of tomato paste sold in the
supermarket in little tiny cans? Speaking of which, do they use those little
tiny cans for anything else? Or perhaps we all live in little tiny cans, and
the elephant is the true duck.

Also, I really like carbon-filament light bulbs.

Carbon-- oh wonder of wonders!!
it can make so many compounds-
one, two, three, even four-coordinate!!

Mwahahahaa...I am sulfur. I can have FOUR MILLION BONDS...and it just makes me
STRONGER!!!

My name is Bill Brasky!  SAY IT!!!

I have lost my beverage. I am greatly saddened.

this place is so freaking dead

That's because I killed it
with a spoon and some chopsticks
in the head

I have nothing to say to that

your statement is in itself a contradiction
you bastard guy

What's the point of all this? We're standing right next to each other.

*sigh.*

agreed.