Homolinguistic Poem

Do you enjoy verdant ovum and pork

I do not appreciate them, Lar-you-are

I do not enjoy
verdant ovum and pork

Would you appreciate them 
in this place or nearby?

I would not appreciate them
at this place or nearby

I would not be fond of them in any location.

I do not enjoy
verdant ovum and pork

I do not enjoy them, Lar-you-are

Would you fancy them in an abode?

Would you fancy them with a rodent?

I would not delight in them
in a domicile

I would not delight in them
with vermin

I do not dig them
in this place or that place

I do not dig them
in any spot

I do not rejoice 
verdant ovum and pork

I do not rejoice them, Lar-you-are

Would you consume them
in an inclosed space?

Would you consume them
with a sexy female?

Not in an inclosed space.
 Not with a sexy female.

Not in a domicile. Not with vermin.

I would refrain from consuming them
in this place or that place

I would refrain from consuming them in any place.

I would seldom devour verdant ovum and pork

I seldom like them, Lar-you-are

“Original Poem”

At times I think it’s just as well

There’s joy in Heaven and pain in Hell

But earthly delights still interest me

From the highest mountain to the deepest sea

Was that a cliché? I daresay it was

I’m either unintentional plagiarizing or awaiting applause.

Might I have stumbled upon the artist’s greatest doubt

Whether any work is original or where ideas come about?

Now I’ve lost the point of this poem here

Where it’s going I’m beginning to fear

By now I should have stated something profound

Maybe I should say something about how the word should resound?

Or a moral? That’s good, what people should and shouldn’t do

Isn’t it morally reprehensible to be unsure of what is morally true?

Oh, wretched self-loathing, self-doubt, self-awareness, why must you haunt me so?

These poor readers need something to do, or something to know.

An idea, a feeling, a moment, or something new

But originality is apparently not something I do.

Alas, the ending approaches, I must find a way to be creatively unstuck

I could try to write something…oh who gives a fuck.

By now I should have stated something profound

Maybe I should say something about how the word should resound?

Or a moral? That’s good, what people should and shouldn’t do

Isn’t it morally reprehensible to be unsure of what is morally true?

Oh, wretched self-loathing, self-doubt, self-awareness, why must you haunt me so?

These poor readers need something to do, or something to know.

An idea, a feeling, a moment, or something new

But originality is apparently not something I do.

Alas, the ending approaches, I must find a way to be creatively unstuck

I could try to write something…oh who gives a fuck.

At times I think it’s just as well

There’s joy in Heaven and pain in Hell

But earthly delights still interest me

From the highest mountain to the deepest sea

Was that a cliché? I daresay it was

I’m either unintentional plagiarizing or awaiting applause.

Might I have stumbled upon the artist’s greatest doubt

Whether any work is original or where ideas come about?

Now I’ve lost the point of this poem here

Where it’s going I’m beginning to fear

I dressed up last night.

I dressed up last night. Rubix Cube played at Blockley.

I dressed up last night. Rubix Cube played at Blockley. People get into it and dress like it’s the 80s. I wore leopard shorts and legwarmers.

I dressed up last night. Rubix Cube played at Blockley. People get into it and dress like it’s the 80s. I wore leopard shorts and legwarmers. We smoked on the way there. My friend opted for the Madonna tutu. Even though she wore snow boots she slipped on black ice. She’s fine.

I dressed up last night. Rubix Cube played at Blockley. People get into it and dress like it’s the 80s. I wore leopard shorts and legwarmers. We smoked on the way there. My friend opted for the Madonna tutu. Even though she wore snow boots she slipped on black ice. She’s fine. There wasn’t a line when we got there. The band wasn’t on yet though so we went to the front of the stage. The entrance of Rubix Cube resembled that of a Bar Mitzvah boy’s entrance. They embody the persona of an 80s band. It’s amusing to watch them eye-fuck the crowd as if they’re famous musicians. They are talented though. Sometimes I wonder if they had grander dreams of stardom. Touring as an 80s cover band does sound glamorous, but I sometimes think they wanted to play in massive arenas.