Boetry: The Undeniable Greats – Vol. 3

Boetry: The Undeniable Greats – Vol. 3

Jorben Bowen wrote his first poem just hours before he turned one. His first collected works Bowen: The Misunderstood Stanzas was published just hours after he turned two. By age three, he could understand and write in basic Scandinavian English, which made it a lot easier to understand his stanzas.

Through sheer talent and absolutely no hard work whatsoever, Jorben Bowen has given literary birth (which is like shitting out the collected works of Franz Kafka) to many undeniably great poems that we have been lucky enough to chronicle on this website. We are not worthy of you, Jorben. May your poetic light guide us from this world of understanding to the next. Guide us past the veil of mainstream shit pushed upon us by hacks like Dostoyevsky, Jane Austen, and China Tom Miéville. Guide us to the third volume of your gospel… only on Discharge

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I’m a glass half empty kind of guy.
Glass half full?
No thanks.
The glass is round and empty,
Round and empty,
Round and empty
Like my mother.
My mother is round and empty
Transparent like a glass.
A Glass like the one my whiskeys in,
My liver’s failing
I am die now.

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I am stoned,
Not in the sense you’re all thinking.
I am the concept of being stoned,
Flightless like a bird weighed down with stones, stones, big, big stones.
The Bird is my mother,
I am the stones.

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Origami is not my strong suite,
I wouldn’t make a good chef, tailoring wasn’t my greatest pursuit,
Why was I born?

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My mother was so wise.
She would say the wisest things.
She would say
“Jorben. Your tea’s ready.”
And my tea was always ready.
She was a wise woman,
My mother.

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TRIGGER WARNING:
The poem you are about to hear contains the following words:
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK PISS PISSY SHIT SHIT SHAT ON A HORSE FUCK FUCK AND CUNT

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Economy.

Econ, oh me?

Oh my. Econ. Oh me.

Would you please lend us

Fifty pee

Mum’s in hospital you see

She got stung dead by a bee

This yellow black shirt?

You think the bee was me?

I make my escape

To my hive in a tree.

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Kevin.

Kevin?

Kevin: I’m here!

Feed me, father!

Kevin, vomit into my mouth

Art installation

Taste sensation

I was feed

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Do you need a feed? A feed of more Jorben? Lucky you, you can find plenty more here and here. There is plenty more Jorben on its way as well, so come back soon to scratch that poetic itch.

One of the contributors to the world's third-to-best podcast not about squid, writing in third person and pretending to be the collective.

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