Here’s a bunch of 80’s albums. Yes, albums. I’ve been trying to trade them for something interesting on Craigslist with limited success. So, in honor of National Poetry Month I’m holding a poetry contest instead. Submit your poem in the comments and I’ll pick the winner. The winner gets the albums. Yes, all of them. If its pictured here, you get it.
The rules:
- Anyone can enter. You can enter as often as you want.
- All entries must be original. If you spy an entry that you think isn’t, just add a comment.
- All poetry must be rhyming. I know, I know: poetry doesn’t have to rhyme. Whatever. It’s my contest and I prefer rhyming poetry.
- You must pick up the albums. If you live outside of Chicago, you’re responsible for shipping costs.
- The winner will be announced on this blog on May 1. The winner will be notified by email.
About the albums: I’m not proud but I’m not ashamed either. It was the times. We honestly thought Wang Chung was mildly amusing. (In fairness, the soundtrack to To Live and Die in LA is actually pretty good.) Other albums include The Dead Milkmen, “Eat Your Paisly”; a Police cutout, the Pretenders greatest hits or something, Frankie goes to Hollywood, etc. And if you’re a Soft Cell (yeah you — I know you’re out there) fan, there are a large number of Soft Cell albums.
These things have been in boxes for at least the last dozen years and I don’t think I’ve actually played them in longer than that. They’re all in reasonably good condition, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call them perfect.
24 comments ↓
I don’ t have a catchy poem just yet.
But I’m working on a ditty that you won’t forget!
Watch this space for a rockin’ good rhyme
And I’ll enjoy my new albums with tequila and lime!
There once was a quake in Chicago
It quite upset Governor Blago
He thought of Mike Madigan
Got really sad again
And wished he had learned Taekwondo
Nice. And nice overlap with the Great Chicago Earthquake Limerick Meme.
by the by…I received an email from a friend who ran across this contest and wasn’t surprised I had posted. However, she had no idea I knew you.
Good times.
80’s music is really rad and cool
my hero growing up was Mr. T
I pity the fool!
my jeans would be tight rolled
boombox on my shoulder as i strolled
my mullet would blow in the breeze
around my kneck i wore my keys
my neon shirt blinded those i’d pass
pull out some change to fill up gas
the cosby show were my american idol
Fridgerator Perry and Bears won the title!!
@jason a very nice homage to the times. thanks for the post!
Not Feeling 100%
If you blow your nose
You’ll get the nostril fruit
Some call it boogers
But I think its cute
Nothing makes me smile
More than sticky snot
Pick your nose and eat it
Baby you’re so hot
I just get so excited
When I’m feeling sick
Because my nose produces
More snots for me to lick
Love the taste of mucous
And boogers are a snack
Send me off to nostril land
I’m never coming back
OK so if you had asked me a week ago if someone would be posting a booger themed poem to my blog, I would have said it was preposterous.
Well done. If slightly disgusting.
I loooove my mom’s poem!!!!! It’s awesome!!!
I guess I want to send the booger poem to all of my friends…
My Freakin’ Albums
My albums are sitting in boxes,
Untouched since our last westward move
Just taking up space in the closet
Until I will once again groove
To harmonies bred in the sixties,
To disco-fied seventies funk,
To Bono and Bruce in the eighties…
To me, not one disc here is junk.
But progress stepped in to change music,
Advancing from what it once was.
Old records were now viewed as clumsy,
And full of distortion and fuzz.
Cassette tapes invaded my Wherehouse,
CDs then took over the world.
I still kept my albums and played them,
I twisted, watusi’d and twirled.
But growing up left me less playtime.
First college, then working, then kids.
I found much less time to spin vinyl,
My discs would soon be on the skids.
My friends thought that I was a geezer,
‘Cuz I still played LPs without shame.
I was now a 33-year-old woman
Who played 33s just the same.
I packed them in crates when my husband
Decided to move us out west.
At first, I got scared that he’d sold them,
But he told me this only in jest.
He lifted a lifetime of records
And dragged them from this house to that.
The Stones, Steppenwolf, and Santana,
And Carole and Carly and Cat.
My kids always grinned at my records,
And watched as they spun round and round.
They liked all the crackling and popping,
The raw imperfection of real sound.
Despite the CD revolution,
Though my Barbie turntable seemed lame,
I was now a 45-year-old woman
Who played 45s just the same.
But over the years I got lazy,
And slid into playing CDs.
My stereo needle was broken;
I could not replace that with ease.
And after our last move, I never
Unpacked Dylan or the Grateful Dead.
They’ve taken up most of a closet
That should store some clothing instead.
My coveted boxes hold Beatles,
And “Thriller”and “Bat Out of Hell.”
The guiltiest pleasures of all are the Ronco collections
And “Super Bad” by K-Tel.
Sometimes, when the house is all empty,
I open the boxes and sigh.
I flip through the albums, remembering
Why each I decided to buy.
The covers remind me of places
I was when those records were new.
I still hear the songs, see the faces
Of people I long ago knew.
Don’t ask me to give up my records,
They hold memories with which I can’t part.
They belong in that space in the closet
And belong in that space in my heart.
@Dahlia @Andrea I love it, too. That’s nice work. The:
I flip through the albums, remembering
Why each I decided to buy.
Rings very true.
Thanks for posting!
Thank you ! Your website is incredibly fun to browse; found it through The Chicagoist.
XO<3 Dalia
Yikes! I’m a techno-imbecile. Please delete second posting of poem. It disappeared when my daughter decided to go all crazy and post, and then I sent it again. I have no idea what I am doing and never will.
thanks and no worries — all cleaned up. glad you like the site. in case you haven’t seen it already, you might enjoy what one commenter called my best post ever.
What have I been doing since then? No idea.
Okay, so David and I wanted to check out the poetry contest – I kind of thought I’d pen a little ditty – Wendy might even, too. But, when I started reading the booger poem – Holy Crap. I started reading it, started laughing and then damn it went nasty. Andrea’s Mom’s poem rocked, the Casbah even.
We did go to your best post ever – and both remember reading it. Sweet.
Oh and by the way, does your whole world still smell like bacon? My whole world smells like Kevin Bacon. Can you help me with that?
yo! my whole world no longer smells like bacon. it does keep coming up from time to time. last night for example: bacon wrapped white asparagus. awesome.
can’t help with the whole kevin bacon thing. that just is was it is.
By the by . . . where did that “it is what it is” saying that’s taken over the vernacular coming from?
[...] I mention the bad, non-rhyming poetry? Hopefully that never [...]
[...] case you haven’t been paying attention, my little Win 80’s Albums for Rhyming Poetry contest is about to end. [...]
Back n black –
down to The river,
Nothings shocking –
twice dead liver,
Crazy rhythms -
creep Closer.
Disintegration –
vital composer.
War, Hootenanny -
Sleep Murmur,
New clear days -
Let it be firmer.
New day rising -
Stop making sense,
silent Rain dogs -
Daydream nation commence.
@juiceman: nice use of hootenanny.
@steph: “it is what it is” crawled out of the sewer, full grown, in late 2006. (It took a while to find it’s place.)
[...] so Southern California reader Dalia is the 80’s Albums for Poetry Contest winner. Hurray! Congratulations Dalia and a big THANK YOU to everyone who participated. It would [...]
[...] PS Yes I now suddenly want to reacquire these even though I put some effort into getting rid of them just last year. [...]
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