The Point of Dada Poetry

what is the of writing
dada is the poem point
is the of writing dada
point of writing a the
what the point writing dada
poem dada is point of

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

P*nis

Your p*nis is very important!
Don't do anything you oughtn't -
They'll make an arrest
Before you have guessed
That your p*nis is very important!

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Spring

Weak lemonade sky
Of the anaemic January sun,
Don't cry!
The thumbnail moon
Says all things die
And winter will be over soon,
The Spring has just begun.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Gimmick

gimmick literature this just it's
just is gimmick a this
is not literature it's just
not just a literature this
gimmick just a it's not
this is not literature it's

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Young Moon

The young moon wriggles in the tree,
It's caught in the branches and wants to be free,
I long to give it its liberty,
The young moon wriggles and wants to be free!

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Adolescence

All pimples and pubic hair,
I know you would never dare
Go through those teenage years again;
Too much aggression
And too much pain,
And why would the bastards care?

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Judas

Tired of his endless guilt,
He rode his motorbike to Gethsemane
And went out to strangle Jesus.
Coming home at last, he met his girl
And felt the tender swastika of love.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Moon Child

You walk alone,
Your clothes are made of saffron
And your face of stone,

With sadness in your eyes,
Your face as pale as shooting stars
When daylight dies,

Gentle in anguish.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Nursery Rhyme for Hitler

Sing a song of Hitler
(Unless you'd rather die) ,
Five-and-twenty Nazis
Baked in a pie;

When the pie was opened
There was an awful smell,
Just another picnic
On the way to Hell.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Nausea (La Nausee)

No-one loves me,
This I know
'Cos Jean-Paul Sartre
Told me so.

Domination is the name
Of human beings' little game.
Fond affection? No - far from it!
Just Nausea to make you vomit!

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!