This is a new poem that I thought would be a part of my chapbook but it is a first draft.
Done in four,
That was my promise
To myself.
Done in four,
Despite the fact
That it was intended for five,
That is what I did.
Done in four,
Means I graduate
With minimal liabilities and
at the age of 21.
Done in four,
That was my promise.
That is what I did.
Done in four,
I overloaded many terms
My grades suffered,
Yet I still have a 3.0.
Done in four
This is my last
And it is done.
Done in four
And then done
At least for a while.
Done in four
Then I leave
Protests aside.
Done in four
Slightly singed and
Drowsily awake.
Done in four
Ready for a break while
Acknowledging my affliction.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Limited Freedom - I haven't thought of a better title yet
So the following poem is the poem that got me thinking about what my chapbook should be about. I was thinking about the title and theme of my book be Decisions - Consequence.
The poem is one that still needs some work but I still really like it!
So here it is!
Limited freedom crawled to liberty.
Kneeling in front of the refined Elite
Whose merciless cruelty punished
Forcing submission and obedience.
Surrendering right, deferring to wrong
Complacent to the lawful regulations.
Chained to discipline and reprimand
Castrating respect and reverence
Penalizing righteous disobedience
Chastising regard
Failing to yield and comply.
Until finally vultures
Force mine to their knees
Bowing to obligatory religion
And complying with the rebuke
Abiding the forced obedience
Skinning people of thoughts and rights.
Discrimination down to a science
Thoughts as the enemy
Savage brutality the pastime chosen
Leaving kindness and hospitality
To fraternize with decimated freedom.
Murdering anything and everything
Enjoying the awful sensation
Of a person’s last desperate breath
Drawn with deep gasping gulps.
Compromise racing to capitulate
Obstructions shoved toward the dead
Ignoring the alleged good
Embracing conflict and abuse
Delighted with war and death.
Hope beaten, crushed
Society viciously shoved into violence
Enjoyment twisted and contorted
Until the possibility of benevolence
Lost to sadism.
Limited freedom’s humbleness caused
Enlightenments thoughtless cruelty and contortion
But stayed death
Despite the gleeful effort of the Elite.
Any suggestions that you have would be very helpful!
The poem is one that still needs some work but I still really like it!
So here it is!
Limited freedom crawled to liberty.
Kneeling in front of the refined Elite
Whose merciless cruelty punished
Forcing submission and obedience.
Surrendering right, deferring to wrong
Complacent to the lawful regulations.
Chained to discipline and reprimand
Castrating respect and reverence
Penalizing righteous disobedience
Chastising regard
Failing to yield and comply.
Until finally vultures
Force mine to their knees
Bowing to obligatory religion
And complying with the rebuke
Abiding the forced obedience
Skinning people of thoughts and rights.
Discrimination down to a science
Thoughts as the enemy
Savage brutality the pastime chosen
Leaving kindness and hospitality
To fraternize with decimated freedom.
Murdering anything and everything
Enjoying the awful sensation
Of a person’s last desperate breath
Drawn with deep gasping gulps.
Compromise racing to capitulate
Obstructions shoved toward the dead
Ignoring the alleged good
Embracing conflict and abuse
Delighted with war and death.
Hope beaten, crushed
Society viciously shoved into violence
Enjoyment twisted and contorted
Until the possibility of benevolence
Lost to sadism.
Limited freedom’s humbleness caused
Enlightenments thoughtless cruelty and contortion
But stayed death
Despite the gleeful effort of the Elite.
Any suggestions that you have would be very helpful!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Late
Due to the fact that I have been sick for the last couple of days I haven’t gotten online to do my blog although I have been thinking about it.
I have already made my opinion on Walt Whitman clear and in case you don’t know it, I think he is an egotistical bastard. That aside I do appreciate what his work lead to even if I don’t like his work myself. I do like the detail he goes into and the way he lists things he sees but I hate how he jumps from one topic to the next. I feel like I’m missing the bigger picture and that is what I want to see and instead I’m betting snapshots that don’t line up and there are gaps that I cannot fill because there is no understanding of what is in those gaps.
My opinion on Emily Dickinson is the exact opposite. I do so love her stuff. There has yet to be something of hers that I didn’t like. Either because of the imagery she uses or the subject she is writing about; a headache is no longer just a headache but a funeral in a brain. I’m not sure if that is really what she was talking about but that is what I think of when I read that poem.
The two people that we were told to read, Stein and Loy are vast opposites. Out of the two I like Mina Loy the best. Her play on words that bring to mind ideas and images, which I know aren’t normal for someone reading her poems. For example, in her poem “Brancusi’s Golden Bird” there is a footnote about the Alpha and the Omega which references Jesus, in my mind I see werewolves both the top and the bottom of the pack thrown together to make this toy. The best of both the top and the bottom and coming up with the best of everything. You can tell I really like Science Fiction. But to me that makes more sense that it having to do with Jesus, so that’s what I see and it still makes sense to me in the context and I like the poem all the more for it! I would love to have a toy that is the perfect form of a werewolf, the best parts taken from the alpha and the omega.
On the opposite side of the spectrum is Gertrude Stein makes my head ache and me wonder if I read the last line or if I’m rereading a different line. I can understand and appreciate what she was doing with the repetition but that doesn’t make it any easier to stand. Luckily the only time I see that to the point of making me want to shoot myself is in “Picasso”. However like Walt Whitman she flutters from one topic to another, giving snapshots that don’t touch. I think I’ll have to set it down and read it again to even begin to understand her. Once I do I might even like her but until then I will say that I don’t really like her poems.
I have already made my opinion on Walt Whitman clear and in case you don’t know it, I think he is an egotistical bastard. That aside I do appreciate what his work lead to even if I don’t like his work myself. I do like the detail he goes into and the way he lists things he sees but I hate how he jumps from one topic to the next. I feel like I’m missing the bigger picture and that is what I want to see and instead I’m betting snapshots that don’t line up and there are gaps that I cannot fill because there is no understanding of what is in those gaps.
My opinion on Emily Dickinson is the exact opposite. I do so love her stuff. There has yet to be something of hers that I didn’t like. Either because of the imagery she uses or the subject she is writing about; a headache is no longer just a headache but a funeral in a brain. I’m not sure if that is really what she was talking about but that is what I think of when I read that poem.
The two people that we were told to read, Stein and Loy are vast opposites. Out of the two I like Mina Loy the best. Her play on words that bring to mind ideas and images, which I know aren’t normal for someone reading her poems. For example, in her poem “Brancusi’s Golden Bird” there is a footnote about the Alpha and the Omega which references Jesus, in my mind I see werewolves both the top and the bottom of the pack thrown together to make this toy. The best of both the top and the bottom and coming up with the best of everything. You can tell I really like Science Fiction. But to me that makes more sense that it having to do with Jesus, so that’s what I see and it still makes sense to me in the context and I like the poem all the more for it! I would love to have a toy that is the perfect form of a werewolf, the best parts taken from the alpha and the omega.
On the opposite side of the spectrum is Gertrude Stein makes my head ache and me wonder if I read the last line or if I’m rereading a different line. I can understand and appreciate what she was doing with the repetition but that doesn’t make it any easier to stand. Luckily the only time I see that to the point of making me want to shoot myself is in “Picasso”. However like Walt Whitman she flutters from one topic to another, giving snapshots that don’t touch. I think I’ll have to set it down and read it again to even begin to understand her. Once I do I might even like her but until then I will say that I don’t really like her poems.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
