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rumisong

Sentences that make no sense!

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rumisong

I told my 7 year old niece that once a day I made it a point to write a sentence that makes no sense... she knows about you all, so to speak- (that is, online friends of her uncle's, who "talk" to him but dont see him nor have met him etc)... she said to me, "can I watch you do it later when you go upstairs on the computer?"... "you want to help me write my sentence that makes no sense?", I confirmed. She nodded... I said "well get me a pen and paper- we dont have to do it on the computer to make it up - we can write it now and I can put it on the computer later" ... she returned right away with a pen and paper- then her mom called on the phone, and so our exercise was delayed for ten minutes or so... but as soon as she was off the phone, she did not forget- "are you going to write the sentence now?".... "yes..." and off we went to where we left the paper and pen.

 

so, with the help and encouragement of my beautiful niece, HERE is todays sentence that makes no sense:


    • Smile with peppercorn butter, and assure that crinkles can keep their face. When the hands have smothered, then we can be sure that the crackers have doubled.

bolded words are the direct influence or suggestion of my little helper...

 

we read it again together...

 

"that sentence makes no sense" she said...

 

mission accomplished! icon_biggrin.png

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rumisong

have they shown us any clout

that whithered too in frameworks doubt

and in these walls are hidden still

the box of secrets ancients will

how can we take a serious look

unless the purveyor of this book

does deign to send our mothers home

and give us daily our senseless poem

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goldenlangur

Enjoyed this collaboration with your budding poet-niece: icon_smile.gif

 

 

rumisong wrote:


  • Smile
    with peppercorn butter, and assure that crinkles can keep their
    face
    . When the hands have smothered, then we can be sure that the
    crackers
    have doubled.


bolded words are the direct influence or suggestion of my little helper...

 

we read it again together...

 

"that sentence makes no sense" she said...

 

mission accomplished!
icon_biggrin.png


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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goldenlangur

Good rhymes here in this nonsense verse

 

 

The last pair:

 

home and poem

 

 

is I suppose depends on how it is spoken?

 

 

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

i went to the store to buy frazzlefrak and frizzlefook to eat!


Larsen M. Callirhoe

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rumisong
Good rhymes here in this nonsense verse

 

 

The last pair:

 

home and poem

 

 

is I suppose depends on how it is spoken?

 

 

 

goldenlangur

 

 

yes- I must say, they do rhyme the way I speak the words... it would feel awkward for me to say Poh'-em... is that how you mean?

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goldenlangur

Hello again,

 

rumisong wrote:

 

yes- I must say, they do rhyme the way I speak the words... it would feel awkward for me to say Poh'-em... is that how you mean?

 

 

Yes, you're right - we would say it as 'poh'em' here. But English is not our first language.

 

 

 

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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rumisong

goldenlangur wrote:

 

But English is not our first language.

 

and given the story of English, you allow me to wonder, is it anyones?

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

the tree walk to the store and bought leaves to eat. the dinosaurs had small bodies so they could fly and their favorite meat was human beings even though they all were vegeterians.


Larsen M. Callirhoe

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rumisong

icon_exclaim.gificon_biggrin.pngicon_exclaim.gificon_biggrin.pngicon_exclaim.gif

 

I LOVE getting to see how the poetry (and so too, the poet) gets to sneak out of our "making no sense"....

 

thats such poetry!

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rumisong

integral sequences of positive calculations are not to be confused with the inward structures of outward contentments... one will always conflame, the other will never be blamed- which one is this and which one is that is something only mother can frame...

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

the time was 29 hundred hours and the waves crashed on the sun and the moon pissed rootbeer into a lake were shit flies and rocks grow.


Larsen M. Callirhoe

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Lake

It drives me nuts that I can't even write nonsense. Even snow shoots flames.

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

my nutsack is a nut case but i have many nuts i love to pick on in the nut house where every one is nuts and plays with their nuts especially ones with titanium shells.


Larsen M. Callirhoe

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rumisong

Tiny holes have appeared in the waiting, where all sundry coincidences will become only more of the trunks that need watering... water them with color, and watch the sun give away its glory - freely, the holes will drink everything you can give it... shapes and shiftings will never appease the endless drinking from branched creatures, and their hoarding counter-revolutionary diggers and scratchers and chomping bits of bookleaves sent down into rabid jowls - these seething seeminglies who connoiter with lurid detail over what creationary disdain will blend with what destructionary good intended humus- feed me my daily dirt, and leave me to the sky flights and diaries landing now in remitted wonder- payment received for serving aboard this ship of fool-full pygmies...

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rumisong

Slide onto the corrugated weavings left behind for use as our desirements- let them fall into fingers weary of gelatinous substance, waiting for the communication that arrives in plaster boxes- crack open a hole, and peer out into those snow-white shudderings the sun will not bathe- lest the color drain from the corsets clinched around this inhumanity- crosses on the wall and windows cracked for breaths of cold light- rough sparks give away their timbre, leaving behind nothing the quaking grass could use...

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

substance abuse is good for substances that don't abuse drugs but do abuse nothing but substances of metal modalities.


Larsen M. Callirhoe

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Aleksandra

I love your swimming into the sand with holding a fog in your hands, and drinking a words with a head of the dog.


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Bloodyday

riddler's job to crush me down, even my silent moon singing like lout. whatever rocket fuel, whenever clouds cry, still feel byte of mosquitoes eating me round. Never be alive or ever be dead, no corpse will dance in burning hell.

 

 

 

does it working?

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rumisong

these are all perfectly senseless!

 

I need to get cracking, and say something senseless soon!

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

im always sober when i drink to get drunk. like a pacofier i eat my dripples of rock granite on poop poo....yummy!


Larsen M. Callirhoe

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tonyv

Buzzing from hive to hive like a queen bee,

don't zap the RAM like a little bighorn!


Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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rumisong

a large hole seems to have been cut into the bottom of the word box- leaking out any good thoughts, letting metaphors get away with havoc, coherency is akin to vagrancy, and the priests have allowed the grave sites to go fallow- how is any work going to get done with law and order running aground in the harbor- lights afar set to blink whenever eyes avert- steady as she goes, put asunder from the kelp beds and todays catch- this is keeping the yard cats from dreaming of anything else- careless barley fields crushed under the paternal gloss of the farthest bank- set sail for a new cage to fit ourselves into- the limbs are not worthy to hold up the swing and those cautious matings only provide the deaf with more celebration for which they havent need- killed by a cupboard falling on their heads, they clearly didnt hear the tea whistle in time...

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rumisong

when it falls to the craving what situation should yellow,

then vet their prospectus and claim sloven fellow

 

bringing fortunate weavings to marketed windows,

let no one cry grunge nor follow these sink-flows

 

we all basket our crops to proxy for hasten,

down we have drunk having nothing to face then

 

free barks and kilos have proven their worthy,

sail naught for the night in crafts we insured thee

 

these endings were paid in drippings of glory,

that finialed touch of thine own blackend story

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rumisong

the deeper we fish

the creeper we find

will never unhitch

our cleverest mind

 

sink down for the sullen

these favoring few

can ever our fallen

climb out from the blue?

 

wrought not from this irony

what debts will not pay

the hammer that draws from me

the wrest of this day

 

the deeper I follow

my own cirqued knot

what valor found hollow

shall give it a shot

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