24-hour chapbook: Time's up

OK. I took a couple extra minutes and came up with 23 pages of half-baked poetry (can make it 24 with a little extra white space here or there), but was not able to finish designing or formatting the chapbook.

But it's OK to lose. And it's OK to write crap poetry just to slide in under the wire on some silly game. I was successful in making myself create when I didn't feel particularly creative. I did hit on a line or two that I think I'll use later.

Anyway, here's one that didn't quite work and didn't quite get done on time ... It's just Dylan Thomas's last words and his poem "Do not go gentle ..." all remixed in eGnoetry


I've had 18 straight
whiskies. I've had 18 straight whiskies.
... I've

Cursed. Cursed!
they Do not go gentle into
that good night. Wild men, And you.



I've had 18 straight
whiskies. I've had 18 straight whiskies.
... I've had

Rage,
near death, I think that's the light..
Rage, rage against
the dying of
the sun in a green bay, Rage,
Because their words had 18 straight whiskies. Do.

I've had 18 straight
whiskies. I've had 18 straight whiskies.
... I've

Grave men at close of the last wave by,
Do not go gentle
into that good night. Go gentle into that
good night,
rage against the dying
of the record. Do not go gentle
into that good night. Grave men, Because
their words had 18 straight.

I've had 18 straight
whiskies. I've had 18 straight whiskies.
... I've

Wild men at their
words had forked no lightning they grieved
it on its way.

I've had 18 straight
whiskies. I've had 18 straight whiskies.
... I've.
I've had 18 straight
whiskies. Think that's the record..
. I've had 18.

Think that's the record..