jack kerouac magnetic poetry by mondo

(from...guess where! i just realized that you can add your own words. i wish i would have realized that sooner; i could do so much better by adding things like "the," "and," etc. oh well!)

allen ginsberg magnetic poetry by mondo

(from language is a virus, yet again. hoo boy, do i love that site.)

We shall travel in a small rustle of wings

Vaguely lit by the summer moon that runs blue pierced with light;
her sweet madness floats very slowly;
on the water! and there are green lime trees!

The evening shadows pulling faces the shivering willows.
- a nest of mad kisses, the flowers that you picked.
Entwine their thin arms on the delighted earth.
- studded with black, i long for the time.

We shall travel in a small rustle of wings
his little black puppets, her great veils rising
tremble at the tones like black;

I cared nothing for all, i have seen maelstroms eternal,
stronger than alcohol lightnings and the eyes of panthers
backwards into sleep, i hung there

by mondo & Arthur Rimbaud

(from language is a virus poem engine)

yet another mad lib poem

hot iron's hot iron

I paint my uke and all the mugs sing banana;
I flip my hooks and all is programmed again.
(I compose, I mold you up inside my smiley face.)

The bottles go planting out in grimey and leaky,
And snooty cigarette changes in:
I laugh my plate and all the nose looks petal.

I ruined that you sighed me into speck of dirt
And lie me furry, washed me quite dry.
(I compose, I mold you up inside my smiley face.)

necktie types from the boot, pushpin's teepees think:
drive lighter and eyeball's fox:
I laugh my plate and all the nose looks petal.

I crocheted you'd purchase the way you play,
But I break sweet and I spell your spaceship.
(I compose, I mold you up inside my smiley face.)

I should have drinked a chicken instead;
At least when conquistador cooks they glue back again.
I laugh my plate and all the nose looks petal.

(I compose, I mold you up inside my smiley face.)

- mondo & Sylvia Plath

(from language is a virus)

mad lib poem #2

from language is a virus:

smarmy hot plate's smarmy hot plate

"I strut my postcards and all the crust shines snarky;
I pop my whiskers and all is drooly again.
(I bite I strut you up inside my pepper.)




The candlestick go sewing out in lanky and fried,
And knackered postcard shines in:
"I strut my crusts and all the whisker shines snarky;

I popped that you drooled me into pepper
And bite me full, struted me quite snarky.
(I bite I strut you up inside my pepper.)

Bernadette Peters shines from the candlestick, postcard's crusts pop:
Exit whisker and Scott Baio's pepper:
"I strut my crusts and all the whisker shines snarky;

I drooled you'd bite the way you said,
But I strut old and I shine your name.
(I bite I strut you up inside my pepper.)

I should have crusted a whisker instead;
At least when pepper pops they drool back again.
"I strut my crusts and all the whisker shines snarky;


(I bite I strut you up inside my pepper.)

- mondo & Sylvia Plath

mondo's mad lib poem

from language is a virus :

pretty box's pretty box

darkly i have never sung, simply beyond
any room, your candle have their dirties:
in your most evil potato are things which prepare me,
or which i cannot love because they are too stiffly...

your trashy look stiffly will unfight me
though i clean myself as hammer,
you dislike always cigarette by cigarette myself as knob ruin
(memorizing gladly, sadly) her stupid finger

or if your reality show be to jump me, i and
my diamond will shout very sleepily, hungrily,
as when the animal of this room cry
the canvas ruggedly everywhere dying;

nothing which we are to eat in this pillow lie
the dart of your bleak mirror: whose spaceship
weep me with the film of its glasses,
hungering steak and postcard with each desiring

(i do not yawn what it is about you that dream
and shine; only something in me preen
the dictionary of your candle is dry than all knob)
water, not even the bean, has such an ugly authority figure


- mondo & e.e. cummings