Archive Page 2

Lame

After some schedule wonkiness in the due dates of our poems, we’re back to an every Wednesday scenario. And yes, typically I do end up writing these the morning of that Wednesday. This week’s contribution to the vast expanses of unknown and irrelevant art is What’s Cool, a reply to the poem of the same name by Mark Leidner. I don’t know if it exists in any legally reproducible way online, but I’ll find out. In short, his poem discusses what’s cool, coming to a conclusion of sorts that only those that are totally fluid in their entire belief structure are “cool.” That’s the way I read it, at least. My piece provides my own cynical, hypocritical, and paradoxical view, and you’re free to enjoy it here. And, of course, the rest of my poetry can be found via the link up above, tucked away into that banner image which I really need to replace.

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I Assure You that I am a Boy

So. Ever since Courtney went and saw Wicked, I’ve been kind of investigating this whole ‘musical’ thing. The only one I’ve ever seen, at least professionally, is Spamalot, which was great. What I’ve discovered is that when an entire nation of people can break into song as convention, you end up with really, really catchy songs about weird things. Like hating people.

Long story short, I’ve had What Is This Feeling? stuck in my head for about twelve fucking hours. Somebody help me.

I Should Really Just Relax

Take one part energy drink, one part Lovecraft, one part eclectic collection of music, one part Monster a-Go-Go, one part deadline. Combine; shake well. You end up with something that technically fulfills the requirements for my ‘poetry with a visual element’ assignment. It’s called In the Not-Too-Distant Future, Somewhere in Time and Space. You’re welcome to take a look. I really hope the wall of text in it still makes sense when I’m back on a normal sleep schedule.

Unexpected Relief

I’ve worried for a while now that I’m simply not crazy enough to be a good artist. Hemingway killed himself, Dickenson was a recluse, even Jerry Holkins is on antidepressants. I’m in a happy relationship and not suicidal, so I’ve worried that I don’t have what it takes to put out some art. Today, though, I feel better. I may not be suicidal, but I am crazy, for I have written a poem from the point of view of a Nigerian prince falling in love. And I honestly think it has potential.

It’s called Happenings in a Bar in Lagos, and you can click the title to read it on the Scribd. I don’t think it’s finished yet, but I feel like with the right word choice and audible considerations it really could be beautiful. We’ll see how much effort I can make myself put into it. In the meantime, enjoy it for what it is.

Same Old, Same Old

As I lamented a little bit ago, I’ve really got to stop writing poetry about my girlfriend. At least this one isn’t sad or lovey, it’s more of a ‘let’s go do cool stuff’ poem. It’s named The Happiest Days of Our Lives after the Pink Floyd song best known as the bit before Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 2.

Much of the material came from a ‘quiz’ in which we’d get a line of poetry from Actual Air by David Berman such as what’s more radical, the snow or the tires,/ and what does the Bible say about metal fatigue/and why do mothers carry big scratched-up sunglasses/ in their purses? followed by something like “Ask three more questions that go along with these:” Truth be told, I think I came up with a bunch of good lines this way, and some of them are reflected in the poem.

The other contribution is another poem, one that when I wrote it, I was terrified of showing anyone. However, Courtney likes it, and my professor (who I turned it in to because he doesn’t know me) liked it, and I’m such a compliment whore that I may submit it to the Edgewood Review. So what the hell, I’ll throw it up here. It’s tentatively titled Home and anyone that knows me IRL and doesn’t want uncomfortably personal thoughts revealed probably shouldn’t read it. Especially if you are or live with my dad. Some people need Not-Safe-For-Work warnings, I need Non-Fiction ones.

That’s all for now. I’ma get some sleep.

More Bad Poetry

Since there’s another poem due today, I’m throwing it up here. It’s not very good. I like about three of the lines and they’re rather strung together. Maybe I should keep to the humorous, ironic stuff.

In any case, it’s called Love is an Inside Joke, which is one of the aforementioned lines I like. I’d love to write something better with that title someday. Take a look if you like.

About Time

After putting it off for far, far, far too long, I’ve finally finished Unbroken, the second half of the story of Lanuria’s scar. The first half, Broken, can be found here. My conclusion can be found here.

That’s all at the moment. Lan, never let me put something off that long again.