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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 3:12 pm 
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WELFARIST!
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Yay, poetry! I've been into it lately--well I'm always into it but I've been focusing more on prose writing the last couple of years, but I've written three new poems this month and they're all right!

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Thu Dec 20, 2012 7:08 pm 
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Making Threats to Punks Again
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I've just poemed a new poem, on my flight. It's very weird, and I hope it will be slam-able. I'm working on two more poems I'll be able to do if I make the Grand Slam (I find out tomorrow, or maybe tonight after midnight).

Do you guys have typical topics you write about? (I hate when people ask me this, but I'm a hypocrite)

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Thu Dec 20, 2012 10:33 pm 
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I write about whatever strikes me. Usually it's weird shiitake and I can't explain it but lines start running through my head or I get fixated on an image or idea on a certain topic and I start to work it out in poetry-like words and images and that's usually how it happens. Like if someone wanted me to write a poem (I always get nervous that one of my sisters in particular will ask me to write an "occasion" poem) on a topic they came up with or that resonated with them and not with me, I wouldn't be able to do it. I wouldn't be able to bring it, you know. Not their way. Whatever it is that strikes me inspirationally, I'm at it's mercy, it dictates me, it's not the other way around. Anyway, that's usually how it comes with poems for me.

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 12:09 am 
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mom, I'll call you back after class.

are you getting my texts?
if you stopped talking to me I would kill myself
i'm worried
you are selfish
if I got sick you wouldn't even take care of me
would you even take care of me if I was sick?
the voices are loud today
you're self-centered
stop talking about work, I don't have a job
what am I going to do?
I can't pay the mortgage
I'm dissolving my retirement
they'll take my house
thank you
sorry
I hate the way I look
I'm disgusting
stop telling people about your childhood
do you talk about me with other people?
I never hit you
I never hit you
I never hit you
did your father say anything bad about me?
do they hate me?
does she hate me?
does he hate me?
do you hate me?
I'm depressed
I can't get out of bed
you have ADD
you are unsupportive
do you love me?
I don't even know anymore, you never say it
It hurts me when you tell them what I did to you
when I get old you'll have to move somewhere close by to take care of me
you won't be able to dissapear like you want to
what is the point of getting up anyway?
I have no one other than you
I would kill myself if you stopped talking to me
are you getting my texts?

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 11:58 am 
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^It's very sad, boober, but I love it! I feel very touched and moved after reading it. <3 <3 <3

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Sun Jan 27, 2013 3:08 pm 
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Really interesting poem, Boober. Sad, but good. I kind of love the ideas of text message poetry.

I'm silly and wrote a sonnet.

Willing

My love for you is like this earthen cup
that time has faded but made smooth to touch.
Each day you drink from it, I fill it up,
though sometimes there is little, sometimes much.
The brew runs strong then weak with changing hue,
yet when it’s sweet for you it’s sweet for me,
its bitterness shared out between us two.
My love runneth over, not bottomless,
as dreamers dream in youth, and yet refilled
if tended, if each breath we whisper, “yes,”
for love is not fixed or fated but willed.
And so I swear, I will, my love’s a cup:
I only put it down to pick it up.

I dig poetry, took workshops in the past, considered getting an MFA, but other things have gotten in the way. I do more writing *about* poetry these days, but I still like to write my own stuff sometimes.

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 6:33 am 
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Is this thread still going?! This is from a little over a year ago for one of my classes. Sadly I haven't been doing much in the way of writing lately.


Jesse’s Jazz


I

Boom, boom, boom, snap-hiss
and he’s off. Jesse comes
from the side and out
the door.
Into the cool.
Night, fool with women, fast
display of desire and strife followed
by police on the beat, those languid
attackers of pavement.
Ten-pin bars lined with
short-order Geiger counters.
A place for the meeks,
the freaks,
the jeeps,
the pinks,
and the peeks.

Jesse’s here in style,
arriving with baseline
time.
Do you hear him trumpeting?
He’s that cat-under-car,
the wet-dog-barking.
He’s the moon-lit youth,
uncouth youth,
surveyor of the new youth.
A keeper of hands that caress
the supple bosom of tomorrow.
Keeping Her close.
Keeping Her fresh.

She’s the movement of time.
The swing, rhythm, and
rhyme.
The coming and going.
The never stopping.
In ever feminine grace the girls
follow,
boys with blunt manliness,
and
Jesse leads the band.

II

Now the tempo slows.
Jesse and the boys sway,
looking for a beat.
A feat?
Perhaps.
Some staccato movement to usher
on in driving youth.
A cause.
A justification for fit and squalor.
A reason for the thinning,
the beer-drunk swimming of skin,
the ever growing lust of..

They’ve got the swing of things
now.
They’re keeping up, holding fast, going for
The long game.
Jesse’s feeling right,
plays another, one more, this is
the last one,
he swears.

III

They’re painting in the dark.
Laying lines with grace like cedar planks.
Noise pollution.
Not mass confusion but they’ve lost the melody.
Upon every balance beam a cross-hair-waiting
And Jesse is fumbling fast.
He can hear that sound in the chamber,
the serving of another round.
The hissing of starved serpents keeping
time with ease.

The snap comes.
Fast then slow,
dragging out.

The back beat.
The dull thud of progress leaving him behind.
The band plays on while
Jesse sits in smoke and stupor.
His trumpet is worn and besides,
his solo is played out,
his turn is over.

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 11:35 am 
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Hooray, more poems! <3 This thread is always going!

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Tue Feb 12, 2013 8:06 am 
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Guys! I love the work that's been posted. Boober, you break my heart.

These are the slam poems I did in the November slam at my university. It's just posted in the order they were performed. Ignore my awful physical blocking.







I'll be performing a new poem at my University's Grand Slam this Saturday, so if you're in St. Louis, you should come out. A lot of my really talented poetry friends are competing, and they are such beautiful writers.

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Thu Mar 28, 2013 9:36 pm 
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NIEV!! those are amazing! mad props, and where in st. louis are you going to uni?? if you're still doing slams next fall I'll come out!






I wrote two different poems about the same thing and I still can't figure out how to say anything out loud.

---
If I send you myself as a series of texts will you forgive me?

I’m sorry

If I could be with anyone right now

I’m sorry

It would be you

I’m sorry

I thought I was better

I’m sorry

I thought I could fight it

I’m sorry

My hands are still burried deep within the burning entrails of my past

I’m sorry

I can’t hold your hand, I’m covered in blood

I’m sorry

When I cut off my eyelids to see the truth I didn’t think I’d ever have to close them to kiss you

I’m sorry

I didn’t realize things could hurt that much

I’m sorry

Without melting the ice around my heart

I’m sorry

I am still antarctica in the winter

I’m sorry

I am a stone

I’m sorry

There is no ore here

I’m sorry

Cold grey through and through

I’m sorry

All mossy patches and crumbled dirt

I’m sorry

Lichen only knows how to live

I’m sorry.


----


why won’t I ever tell you how I’m feeling.

It took me 5 years

but I know why I walked out that door when he told me he wanted to be with me forever.

I couldn’t stomach a world where he loved me only because I didn’t want the taste of my name to turn to poison on his tongue.

I couldn’t live through him spitting my bile on the floor

If I didn’t let him taste what loving me was like, he would never hurt me like she did.

pebbles at the bottoms of saucepans

you can’t make soup from me.

I still sometimes have difficulty determining the difference.

she taught me love was only loud

that it cannot control itself.

she taught that within a misspoken word it can curdle to contempt

broken coat racks

holes punched in plaster walls by the sharp curve of my shoulder blade

I didn’t know yet why I couldn’t trust those words

because the only person I was supposed to believe

told me regularly

that I was selfish and cold and unfeeling

a prophecy waiting to fulfill itself

that I wasn’t empathetic enough

to the struggle of her life

and that nothing had ever happened to me

I figured if no one ever knew me so well again that maybe they wouldn’t see what kind of person I am

what kind of person she told me I was.

I’ve been periodically convinced I was a sociopath for 15 years.

(so many years before when I had yet to break the habit of breaking my own skin

I used only serrated knives.

because pain

will never renege on it’s promise

to hurt you.)

years later and 11 months before I met you,

I stood in the doorway and asked a man who knew my secrets how he hadn’t grown to hate me in the week he had spent in my presence.

I consoled myself that I was, perhaps, an excellent liar.

and you look at me sometimes like I’m water just turned to wine

like years of moss scraped off ancient memorials

what are you but the fresh spring rain bouncing against my artifice?

you can love a stone

but it will never

love you back.

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Space has stared into the tiny syrup holes of our shame and it does not judge us. - Amandabear

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Sat Apr 20, 2013 9:26 am 
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WELFARIST!
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The DIY Ouija thread reminded me of a poem I wrote ages ago for a poetry workshop back in my school daze. Our assignment was to write a poem inspired by a story in that week's paper so I wrote one about Prince William telling a paparazzi to eff off which was the one I presented to class but I also read in the same paper about a local fire in the community which was the beginnings of this fire recollections poem. I also think, somehow, this and the Prince William poem were once the same poem? And then I split them into two? I should get my working notebooks from back in the day out and see how that happened because the final results of each one couldn't be more different. I was absolutely working on them at the same time, going from one to the other--I do remember that. Strange how things work in writing!:

HAUNTED BY ZEN

Fire, I have always feared fire
I believed in God when I was a child
Praying for hours that our furnace
With it's steady blue flame
Would not burn the house down
Fire never came.

One of my girlfriends, back in eighth grade,
Her house caught fire--with luck, she was saved
She smelled like bacon for at least a week
An aura of smoldering hickory.

My first encounter with a Ouija board:
Girlfriends summoned a spirit named Zen
Who perished in a fire in nineteen-twenties Hong Kong--
His body charred to ash
His spirit rose above all.

Zen knew many things he could not have--
It was really strange. He flung the
Ouija placode clear across the room
In a frenzied spelling rage--
We never played again.

My neighbor's child likes fire, so he told me
I asked him why but he could not really say

I had to ask: "But you don't want to light one, do you?"
"Oh, no." he assured me.
"Good," I said,
"Because people could die
and they'll never come back again."

He'd just learned of resurrections
and I forgot about Zen.

EH - January 10, 2002

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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Tue May 14, 2013 8:17 pm 
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--

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I have a blog: http://upthefolks.tumblr.com/
art: http://upthefolksstudio.tumblr.com/


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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Fri Jun 21, 2013 10:32 am 
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for well meaning women who try to remind me of my place:

let me tell you what it’s like to be born a fetish

too big to fit in to the niche I was meant for

older bunk at sleep away camp

you can’t possibly still be a child

secret and shameful

society doesn’t like me in any direction

and he only wants to fork me like the monster he knows I am

-

before I learned that a push up bra and long hair would

signal to others the wound between my legs

I would be called “sir” in public on a weekly basis

cashiers, check out clerks, strangers on the street

no one sees someone this big and this tall and thinks “woman”

weeping as a child I would clutch my thighs and try to explain

the confusion and frustrations of a body so gendered and cumbersome

seen as genderless

and what that means to someone trying to grow up female in a world of fashion magazines marketed to adolescents

I was told to femme up

that I would have to work harder than other girls to signal the biological truth of my being

and that a little mascara never hurt anyone.

-

at fifteen

being stared at by strangers

hurts almost as much as being ignored by peers

no matter of dark layered sweaters can hide me

there is no blending in to the sea of awkward teenagers

there is no anonymity is casual giantism

-

I didn’t understand why men hated me until one explained

that I made him feel like a woman

I wanted to grab him by his hair and tell him that’s all I ever wanted to feel

the others whispered in my ear and

wanted to love me in secret

acting out some childhood fantasy

read the odyssey too early and wanted a cyclops for their own.

never hold my hand and walk down the street

never wear high heels except at home

wobbling from lack of practice

I never signed up to re-enact this freudian nightmare

but again and again cast in to the role against my will.

I learned early that no one would love me for my beauty

instead turned attention to knowledge

hoping that information would excuse my body

fairy tale monsters stuck in caves, their stories were tragedy but I took comfort in them

I was one of them.

-

so now you tell me that I am tall

like this is revelation

like I should prostrate myself at your perfectly average sized feet

and thank you for opening my eyes.

how dare I exist in space like a normal person

when I’ve been a sideshow freak all along

here let me kneel

let me bring my dinner plate face out of the clear skies

let me pick the birds from my hair and

brush the snow from my eyelids

I will stoop

bringing my tree trunk limbs back to the dirt

so you can tell me

my story

_________________
Space has stared into the tiny syrup holes of our shame and it does not judge us. - Amandabear

I have a blog: http://upthefolks.tumblr.com/
art: http://upthefolksstudio.tumblr.com/


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 Post subject: Re: The Poetry Thread!
PostPosted: Sat Jun 22, 2013 9:12 am 
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Should Spend More Time Helping the Animals
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booberthefraggle wrote:
a forking awesome poem


*applause*

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