So there’s this woodpecker
He pecks all day
Peck Peck Peck
Peck Peck Peck
Pecks his life away
Ever seen him stop and wonder?
At the glories of the world and beyond?
Did you ever see?
Him staring at a tree
And thinking about Joyce Kilmer?
Nope, can’t recall
Any such incident

So why should I stop
And smell the flowers I don’t see
Why should I write a poem
As beautiful as a tree
When no one else gives a ****

I should be hanging around friends
Rolling joints with the money for my rent
I should be the eternal narcissist
Like the one who sits above
But we’ll come to him later

Right now what I wanna know
Is what gives me the right to control
Everything I see
And everything I don’t
Coz frankly speaking
There’s a lot I don’t know

What gives me the right
To play with someone’s life
And blame it on ignorance?

I thought someone could tell me
Someone could answer
The stupidest question in the world
But if I ask someone
Why they’re doing something
They all say the same thing
Coz everyone else is.

Good.
So now we’ve got that cleared.
I’m doing what I’m doing
Because everyone else is doing what they’re doing
And everyone else is doing what they’re doing
Because I’m doing what I’m doing

To sum it up,
None of us know what any of us is doing
Or why they’re doing it.

Looks like we evolved backwards.
At least the apes knew what they were doing.
Sleep. Eat. ****. Have ***. Sleep.
That simple collection of words got what the people
Who call themselves the brainiest guys in the world didn’t:

Logic.

And I’ll tell you why they didn’t get it
Because they were the birdbrains
Who came up with the idea of a nuclear bomb
Which has really set the bar for human stupidity
No one can surpass that.

Because the ‘logic’ behind the nuclear bomb is
“You give me what I want
Or I’ll blow up your country”

People in the highest position of their respective countries
Spent money exceeding ten times the number of their population
On such nuclear bombs.

Which, in fact, they’ll never use.

True story.
Tell you the truth, I’d rather be a woodpecker.

“I think that I shall never see”
a tree thin as phylogeny,

looks poor, no fruits nor leaves for tea,
Yet means so much as Darwins see.

rooted, unrooted, a weird tree,
well, Nature, too, selects weirdly.

No other tree much affects me,
keeps changing my taxonomy,

splitting-lumping, lumping-splitting,
because more data keep coming.

“Poems are made by fools like” you,
but cladograms, don’t make me blue.

How have you been? I hope you’ve been well, but I’ve been thinking about how

A poem does have too much
person in it to be a tree.
Too many clichéd feelings,
too much sadness and inadequacy.
All of it pressed into words
that are too tight because
poems are always a size too small.
You’re right, a poem is nothing
like a tree.

I’ve been busy too, kind of, but I just want to say

Forget the miles,
and give me the woods.
Give me the dark and the deep
and the lovely.
I’ll leave the horse,
it’s better off without me and
I’ll imagine that the woods
belong to no one.
Just give me the woods
and the snow
and the hypothermia.
Give me the frozen lake.
I don’t want your miles
of tired positivity.

I think we were talking about faith last time, but I don’t think that’s quite it. You see,

I don’t need God
to do the battering.
There’s already something inside me
pummelling my cheeks,
leaving invisible bruises
and a lack of air in my lungs.
I don’t want to be ravished,
and besides, even this
monster won’t ravish me.

It really has been a while now since we last wrote

But nothing’s changed,
for the day I was born,
a week early, afraid
of being late,
I caught a glimpse
of the world and changed my mind.
I tried to turn back
but got a cord wrapped round my neck
and nearly choked.
They plied me out with pincers
anyway, wailing:
leave me be.

But I’m alright. I’ll be okay, don’t worry too much. Things happen and

Maybe after that,
I should have seen
that it’s not worth the fight.
Maybe it’s just lucky
I’m lazy.

I’ll write again, as and when I can.

marjorie farmer originally shared to poets of g exlib (Discussion):

I would like to share the most memorable poem I ever heard with all here at poets of g exlib:

Trees       by:  Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose ***** snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Written by Joyce Kilmer |
  
Memorial Day

"Dulce et decorum est"

The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.

The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.

Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace .
.
.
Who brought a sword.

Because of Pneumonia, he couldn't survive.
Val Kilmer has died at the age of sixty-five.
He starred as Batman in "Batman Forever" thirty years ago.
In 2013, he starred in "Ghost Ghirls" and "Palo Alto".
In 2011, he starred in "Blood Out" and "Five Days Of War".
He was a very talented actor who we won't see anymore.
In 2006, Val starred in "Moscow Zero", "Summer Love" and "Deja Vu".
He made an uncredited appearance two years later in "The Love Guru".
Millions of people loved Val Kilmer's performance in "Top Gun".
I'm being precise when I say he'll be remembered by everyone.

My friend and I saw Val Kilmer make a **** deal last night, and her
    nose started to itch.
We both used to ride the rails, but on completely different lines.

Mine took me to new states.
Hers took her to a different state of mind.

I Asked her to come with me once, in so many words.
Before I could ask her, "why not?" she asked the same of me.

I told her I was scared.
She said, "Me Too".

coltrane seems capable of quenching some carnal craving

magnificence and Veracity
entering in a form
so undoubtedly Sincere
un-convoluted by
inconsequential script and scribble

perhaps this is kilmer's Tree
perhaps this is the universe's Love supreme
perhaps this is a Truce for the one who writes

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose ***** snow has lain,
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.

Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree