deepundergroundpoetry.com
a generalization. the poet at 23. whimsical requiem# ? ...
It is pointless, so I’ll
play with smiling, childlike voices
and vulgar mundanities:
the lip of the toilet pulls at my leg hair
sometimes.
Write a poem for a toe nail.
Write a poem on a toe nail.
Now that’s devotion.
We are fading through clippings.
But of course we’re always doing that,
Charlie.
Poets generically reach through their hearts,
pulling out oil or blood,
reach through the sky, pull down the sun
or the moon or the stars,
rattling heaven.
There has never been anything really to say.
who’s the magician?
play with smiling, childlike voices
and vulgar mundanities:
the lip of the toilet pulls at my leg hair
sometimes.
Write a poem for a toe nail.
Write a poem on a toe nail.
Now that’s devotion.
We are fading through clippings.
But of course we’re always doing that,
Charlie.
Poets generically reach through their hearts,
pulling out oil or blood,
reach through the sky, pull down the sun
or the moon or the stars,
rattling heaven.
There has never been anything really to say.
who’s the magician?
Published 20th Apr 2014
| Edited 15th Aug 2015
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20th Apr 2014 12:41pm
Im not sure exactly why but I liked it. It weirdaly explains my thought process.
20th Apr 2014 9:57pm
ah, a kindred spirit to whom i've been, then? it can be nice when that happens. thank you.
20th Apr 2014 7:32pm
You may be right,
perhaps it is pointless,
although when I read
this I thought that
perhaps it isn't pointless
at all..:)
perhaps it is pointless,
although when I read
this I thought that
perhaps it isn't pointless
at all..:)
it's the whole "love/hate" relatiionship with poetry bit, you know. this is another piece from a few years ago--minus the title i put on it here, when i'd been in a very bitter mood towards poetry--i once wrote and published a chapbook i titled "Some More Toilet Poems, and other Sh--Minutae." no, this poem did not appear in that chapbook...and oh, yes, i've since "unpublished" that chapbook, and others, though they may perhaps still be found...
it's pointless, and then it's not, and then it is again, and then it's not, and so on. from a distance, it might look like a silly little game, but while we're here...
thanks for again coming and considering another of my little thought bits.
it's pointless, and then it's not, and then it is again, and then it's not, and so on. from a distance, it might look like a silly little game, but while we're here...
thanks for again coming and considering another of my little thought bits.
5th Jul 2014 8:54am
Trying to baffle me with your wit? Ha ha. As you know the create mind speaks in riddles; but with a goal. For all to feel important; however; only at our choosing and our mood. Don't cross us when feeling dark; as controlling evil will unknowingly to those bestowed.
no, i never really considered this piece witty. actually i did write it a few years ago--i was about 23 at the time, and i posted it here a little while ago because, well, i wasn't writing much and sometimes i see a crazy or strange piece i wrote years ago and think, "why not?" so i post it. um..actually i really did mean the things i wrote in this piece when i wrote it those years ago, as i was a little bitter about um..poetry at the time and my bitterness towards poetry was still a big thing to me then.
but, thank you for your thoughts. i don't know. i think, maybe, anyone can be bestowed under certain sets of circumstances, but not everyone allows their gifts to blossom or their notions to take flight.
but, thank you for your thoughts. i don't know. i think, maybe, anyone can be bestowed under certain sets of circumstances, but not everyone allows their gifts to blossom or their notions to take flight.
