I read DJ’s poem today
Full of fog, cold and truth
Only thing missing
a long jazz solo
to chill you to the bone
a good girl with sad eyes
and some green tea
to make words
glow a little harder
EL SEBBO
Filed under: poetry
31 October 2007 • 8:53 am 1
Beatific nostalgia
30 October 2007 • 7:49 am 0
SF impression
29 October 2007 • 10:30 am 1
The title is longer than the poet itself
I measured myself today
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
26 October 2007 • 7:13 am 0
urban landscape
25 October 2007 • 10:03 am 1
Yellow Woman
The writer speaks
The yellow woman asks questions
nobody understands
The writer answers politely
The yellow woman smiles
Outside words are pressing
their faces to the window
wondering
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
24 October 2007 • 6:27 am 1
every night he drinks and every morning he wishes he hadn’t
23 October 2007 • 8:41 am 1
Tombstone
To DJ Eldon
This is the place where
old cowboys meet
with torn leather boots
and a toothless mouth
full of tobacco
Backs hurt
Whiskey burns
Memories flare up
A sign flaps in the wind
but you can’t read it
as it stands on the opposite
side of yer heart
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
22 October 2007 • 1:40 pm 0
Bodie
Dust of a ghost town
on my boots
Cold wind
blows
Old buildings groan
with defiance
Dust of a ghost town
in my mouth
as I leave this
cold, dead place
behind
(D. James)
Filed under: art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, d. james, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
19 October 2007 • 6:40 am 1
A beautiful view (or why poems can’t be explained)
I live in that
house that you can’t see
and you live in that
house that you can’t see
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
18 October 2007 • 2:30 pm 0
defining moments
17 October 2007 • 6:00 am 2
A very short history of rock and roll (1980s)
It was while
we were listening
to the Residents
that she realized
she wasn’t
in love
with me
anymore
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
16 October 2007 • 7:32 am 1
wheredowegofromhere
15 October 2007 • 6:13 am 1
Fucking around
Today I told myself
to stop fucking around
but I told myself
I could fuck around
as much I as wanted too
because after all
it is always myself
who has the final
word
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad poetry, bad sex and bad breath, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, seb, snuff poems, the queen of england, writing
10 October 2007 • 6:19 am 1
No ego
When I speak
my words
stop belonging
to me
When I speak
I disappear
in musical
air
El Sebbo
Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing
9 October 2007 • 6:14 pm 1
Civil night
8 October 2007 • 8:48 am 1
Black hole
Alcohol
is poetry’s black hole
Things get sucked in
deformed until they disappear
leaving only the outline
of their shadow
in the painful
poetic skies
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing
5 October 2007 • 10:16 am 0
Morning breaks
4 October 2007 • 6:28 am 1
Nordic skies
Another beautiful sky
through the kitchen window
I wonder what’s so special
about them nordic skies
Inspiration maybe
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing
3 October 2007 • 8:00 am 1
It’s what we do
2 October 2007 • 7:57 am 4
The amazing power of poetry
Sebastien Doubinsky
is a woman
EL SEBBO
Filed under: art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing
1 October 2007 • 3:51 pm 0
abirdisabirdisabird
A bird
flew so close
I felt a flutter
of air on my ear
For me it was
a literal brush
with nature
For the bird
it was nothing
I could imbue
some human emotion
on the bird
but it would
be false
As the bird
only knows
survival
Eat and Sing and Fly
and nothing more
It is I who has
the overcomplicated
life full of conflicting
emotions that need
serious analysis
The bird is
just a bird
D. James
Filed under: art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing
