Nuler (noo. LEHR) poetry: A dramatic form of contemporary poetry involving a reversal of traditional structure wherein a rhymed or unrhymed title is an integral component of the overall poetic piece and the title of the poem contains the greatest quantity of content; strictly comprised of no more than one lengthy sentence, which is starkly contrasted by the subsequent poem which is composed of roughly eight words or less. The extreme length of the title characterizes the form and the movement of the Nuler poem along with its linked-linear nature, which forces its overt length and weight upon the substantially shorter, ostensibly lighter poem beneath it. The poem component of the Nuler, however, with brevity, density and substantiality resists disintegration or diminution through succinct core content and striking contrast to its formidable title with which the poem simultaneously and often ironically compliments by sagacious ignition of language and exposure of what lies beneath the surface value of words.
The word "nuler" means to collapse in Hodaoa-Anibo
the African American language created by Kobina Wright.
The word "nuler" means to collapse in Hodaoa-Anibo
the African American language created by Kobina Wright.
nuler poetry
She Stealthily Stalks Him While Hiding Behind The Tall Grasses Of Pretentiousness And Waits For The Perfect Opportunity To Sink Her Flesh Ripping Teeth Into Him Like A Cheetah, Without Ever Realizing What She Has Become
Recklessly
Obsessed
by Kobina Wright
nuler poetry
For the Girl Whose Considered Homicide When Suicide Didn’t Kill Enough of the Sticky, Dripping Stuff That Caused Her to Want to Die in the First Damn Place From Way Too Much Knowing That It’s Not Her Own Light She Needed to Erase But the Lifelong Scar of Wickedness Upon Her Sacred Space & Upon Mother Earth's Shame-d Face
DEATH
To all pedophiles!
∞
by Lisa Bartley-Lacey
From A Crime and a Simplification of Something Sublime
She Stealthily Stalks Him While Hiding Behind The Tall Grasses Of Pretentiousness And Waits For The Perfect Opportunity To Sink Her Flesh Ripping Teeth Into Him Like A Cheetah, Without Ever Realizing What She Has Become
Recklessly
Obsessed
by Kobina Wright
nuler poetry
For the Girl Whose Considered Homicide When Suicide Didn’t Kill Enough of the Sticky, Dripping Stuff That Caused Her to Want to Die in the First Damn Place From Way Too Much Knowing That It’s Not Her Own Light She Needed to Erase But the Lifelong Scar of Wickedness Upon Her Sacred Space & Upon Mother Earth's Shame-d Face
DEATH
To all pedophiles!
∞
by Lisa Bartley-Lacey
From A Crime and a Simplification of Something Sublime
by LuvLiWords July 1, 2009
Get the nuler poetry mug.Akin to rocks for jocks, this general education class will take the abstract and rigorous subject of physics and make it so easy and watered down that even poets will pass it.
by The Moid April 13, 2010
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The art of unlocking one’s most restrained and repressed emotions before manipulating them for aesthetic purposes in a feeble, half-ass attempt, to get into some college freshman’s panties.
Verbal Ejaculation
Poetry is such bullshit,
Nothing truly profound could ever be put on paper.
Self-awareness? Who needs it!
All I ever do is end up crying anyway.
It's like the dehydration of an emotional masochist;
Invisible pain, evaporating joy.
Someone oughta build a dam on my stream of consciousness,
But where then would all the fish go to spawn?
Why does Jesus ask for so much faith?
Where is Allah’s justice?
Yahweh hasn’t written a book in two millennia.
There’s too much order in the chaos.
My eyesight is failing; I fear I may soon go blind.
Not that there’s much worth seeing anyway.
Poetry is such bullshit,
Nothing truly profound could ever be put on paper.
Self-awareness? Who needs it!
All I ever do is end up crying anyway.
It's like the dehydration of an emotional masochist;
Invisible pain, evaporating joy.
Someone oughta build a dam on my stream of consciousness,
But where then would all the fish go to spawn?
Why does Jesus ask for so much faith?
Where is Allah’s justice?
Yahweh hasn’t written a book in two millennia.
There’s too much order in the chaos.
My eyesight is failing; I fear I may soon go blind.
Not that there’s much worth seeing anyway.
by nethcev! September 10, 2006
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by xlatia October 4, 2007
Get the POET mug.Teacher: Where's your piece of poetry, Jonathan?
Jonathan:
Your nose will be red
Your eye will be blue
A cockroach you'll be as dead
When I beat you
Jonathan:
Your nose will be red
Your eye will be blue
A cockroach you'll be as dead
When I beat you
by xercmercus July 6, 2019
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