Blast from the Past: #203 of #365 A Prompt A Day For Bee ~ Monkey’s Thirteens

 April 2019

That’s a monkey business here…

December 2014

Today I am using a prompt @FrauPaulchen has used in one of her #frapalymo. Unfortunately, I cannot find it but we were meant to take a poem we like and write down all the nouns, verbs and adverbs used. Then we created a new poem out of the chosen words.

Today I chose Sylvia Plath’s Doomsday, but I cheated a little and did not take all the words. These are the words I will be using:

idiot bird leaps drunken leans broken universal clock: hour crowed thirteens. stages fall apart scenes actors halt shock: idiot bird leaps drunken leans. Streets crack ravines doomstruck city crumbles block block: hour crowed thirteens. glass flies smithereens; relics put hock: idiot bird leaps leans. monkey’s wrench blasted machines; thought hear  holy cock: hour crowed thirteens. ask end means, calculate stock: idiot bird leaps leans hour crowed thirteens.

I have also used the “Cut Up Machine” on Language is a Virus to get a different order of the words. They gave me this:

monkey’s thirteens. leans wrench idiot crack thirteens. drunken broken stock: put blasted crumbles crowed leaps bird drunken smithereens; crumbles doomstruck leaps idiot crowed leaps stages thirteens. end holy city machines; means, means, bird monkey’s end drunken thirteens. actors smithereens; hour monkey’s ask calculate thirteens. thought idiot flies crowed universal leans actors cock: leans crowed universal leaps cock: actors apart end hear leaps Streets crowed idiot relics drunken

Here is what I made of it:


Monkey’s Thirteens 
The Monkey leans on the wrench
when the idiot causes a crack in thirteens. 
Only drunken, broken stock everywhere: 
 I put blasted crumbles 
in a crowed heap which leaps the bird 
to drunken smithereens.
 It crumbles doomstruck 
and leaps the idiot crowed
or maybe
 leaps stages in thirteens.
 End the holy city machines!
It means it means, nothing
but a bird and a monkey’s end.
 Drunken thirteens
 actors in smithereens.
“What hour?” the monkeys ask.
I calculate thirteens
but in a thought the idiot flies.
 Crowed universal hope leans
 on an actor’s cock.
 Leans on crowed universal leaps
 and a cock’s actors fall apart.
The end, I hear, leaps
 Streets full of crowed idiot 
relics drunken.

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