Form the Impaler: Soylent Caviar: Will Trepan for Food

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Casanova’s abomination,
In suede persuasion suckled,
Endless topics in indiscussion,
Colored by missteps; Pavlov’s comedy of spite.
Color me tenebrous,
And I’ll kiss your death,
Dismembered: they so sweetly
Reprimand the understood,
Malnutrition be your bereavement.
Yet silence,
Be it sepulcher, warm caress,
Insoluble warrant of spawn of Custer:
Thou art which pisses myth.
Zeppelins.
Razor-wire kisses coalesce,
In coffin colored coagulations,
Son of man—have spun webs,
Cabal, carry me home.
In the immortal words of the Jew:
“Shadow changes into bone.”
Satan’s kiss you must accept,
For the meek hoard sakes--
Slain-brash-orphan-dour-legion-excretion--
Coward’s venomous breath contrived,
Cells’ sensitized harem divine,
Of fuck, Tesla.
Forgive god,
Lest the versa be our vice.
Hominid of habits, brother
Whom empathy equates a rash.
Honor.
Leviathans: permissible trust begs thus.
Amen, dignity my love.
"Is", "is." "is" — the idiocy of the word haunts me. If it were abolished, human thought might begin to make sense. I don't know what anything "is"; I only know how it seems to me at this moment. -Robert Anton Wilson




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Color you tenebrous indeed.

A great poem is built in layers. You have the surface layer that is understandable to the casual reader, then you have subsequent layers that only reveal themselves on increasingly close inspection. It seems you skipped that process and just went for the bottom-most of those layers.

The poem lacks context; the lines sound great, but there's no semantic meaning behind them. Indeed, some of the words seem thrown together as if by doing so something profound will surely happen. Inverting vice versa, the random throwing of lines about, Pavlov's comedy of spite, etc., all make no sense whatsoever. Then there's the title as well with the bit about "Soylent Caviar." I can understand throwing impaler and trepan together, but soylent caviar? Soylent is a word whose usage came to be with "Soylent Green," and is not used outside of that context.

Overall, it sounds and reads cool, but there's nothing here.




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Wow....How many historical persons...and all for nothing... What is theirs role in this poem??? You put lines as you wish so it don't make sense. Also, why are you using words that sound so "hard"(indiscussion, permissible,...)
What's the point of all this, showing off? What's the message you're sending to reader???
Dreams they come and go...ever shall be so...




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Points 297
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Exactly, Nate. It's all bottom layer, as I said in the notes with the whole "my subconscious vomited this" bit. It's mostly an exercise in words that sound awesome together. And soylent caviar is actually just a sort of crass joke, as in "It's people!" yet we all know what part of the fish caviar is... There's really no meaning here, except perhaps for a snapshot of my subconscious in the moments right before i fall asleep. Maybe Joyce is to blame.
"Is", "is." "is" — the idiocy of the word haunts me. If it were abolished, human thought might begin to make sense. I don't know what anything "is"; I only know how it seems to me at this moment. -Robert Anton Wilson



the only theft here is of decency when carina decided to rob me of my pride and put me on a banana
— veeren