deepundergroundpoetry.com
Summer of the Strange
That summer I lived like a monk.
Reading and dreaming.
And studiously examining…
Light projected beams through the chipped paint on the window.
Maybe my first foray into the underground.
Leaving the world behind because the world had died.
Eyes closed… I followed the energy of my contemporaries.
All the smiles in the sunshine…
And the world forgot about me.
And I did not mind.
That summer I would magically come into (contact)
With the words that would
Alter the course of my life and my destiny.
As I became a writer before I became a writer
Or maybe a poet before I became a poet.
Yes… A poet.
Maybe anointed by the shadows of the solitudes
And a burst of light.
* * *
After that summer I somehow came into (contact)
With a pen and a spiral notebook…
And then another and another and another…
Someone recognized this
And gifted me a large forest green hard cover notebook with quality line paper
And a beautiful message in words.
And I filled up those pages on both sides and then located two more notebooks like that one.
And then I took mescaline and dropped out.
(which I would like to tell you about.)
(Damn... I said to myself that I would like to improve my usage of the Author's Notes field (after all, it is there for a reason.). but then I write some stuff that overflows the field...
Hello, I hope you are well today. This is a glimpse into my individual evolution. I have been thinking about a lot lately or… Always. I have been thinking about the nature of modern poetry. And perhaps the things that I would like to do in my life and how I might incorporate the writing into those endeavors… I believe that each of our portfolios of poetry is what might be called: an energetic construct. (And I there are components I would like to add to mine.) This construct might be incorporated into a number of things, first and foremost, the evolution of the individual and coming into contact with: The True Will. What might be called: The Great Work.
The Summer, which I refer to in this piece was the Summer before I entered High School. That Summer I worked on my dad’s concrete crew (which taught me about writing), during the day, and after work, I secluded myself to a spider web laden basement room. (I am sort of horrible at divulging things about myself.) I read on here once someone who shared something that I completely related to. (that cannot possibly make sense to you.)(laughter)
Published 4th Jun 2021
Author's Note
*. *. *
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 10
reading list entries 2
comments 12
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The author encourages honest critique.
4th Jun 2021 10:27am
4th Jun 2021 12:34pm
Anonymous
- Edited 18th Nov 2021 8:45pm
4th Jun 2021 10:28am
<< post removed >>
4th Jun 2021 12:35pm
4th Jun 2021 5:54pm
Beautiful description of the never-ending journey of the writer, work always in progress. Hugs and peace, oral
5th Jun 2021 4:55pm
4th Jun 2021 6:55pm
This part!
Eyes closed… I followed the energy of my contemporaries.
All the smiles in the sunshine…
And the world forgot about me.
And I did not mind.
Reminds me of Eddy Vedder's 'Society'!
It's always interesting to learn about a poet's growth, or what inspired them to pick up the pen ( or keyboard ). In this case, the need for solitude solidified the old adage about knowing oneself only by solitude.
Eyes closed… I followed the energy of my contemporaries.
All the smiles in the sunshine…
And the world forgot about me.
And I did not mind.
Reminds me of Eddy Vedder's 'Society'!
It's always interesting to learn about a poet's growth, or what inspired them to pick up the pen ( or keyboard ). In this case, the need for solitude solidified the old adage about knowing oneself only by solitude.
5th Jun 2021 4:59pm
I am so glad this resonated with you. I find the journey or the writer so interesting. I wonder about all of you, in this regard. In regard to myself. Frankly, I am sort of rediscovering my... Self...
I like that song.
You are a font of wisdom and I am grateful and thankful that you instill this energy into my sphere...
I like that song.
You are a font of wisdom and I am grateful and thankful that you instill this energy into my sphere...
Anonymous
5th Jun 2021 5:54am
I have been caught up in this write for days.... Reading and rereading, seeing myself within your words and marveling at the thought process that we all take to get us from point A to point B... and so on.
I didn't quite know how to comment properly, hence my delay. So let me just finally say that your ability to spill your soul onto the page, in the distinct way you do... affects me, as a reader one way and as a writer, another. Both, very deeply. Your writing is brilliantly intense, honest, stripped down and raw. Something I legitimately covet about writers who do it well, and you certainly do.... I enjoy your reality and the emotional range that you accomplish.
It's a talent and a true gift.
Thank you for sharing it - 🙏🏻
🌹-💙
B
I didn't quite know how to comment properly, hence my delay. So let me just finally say that your ability to spill your soul onto the page, in the distinct way you do... affects me, as a reader one way and as a writer, another. Both, very deeply. Your writing is brilliantly intense, honest, stripped down and raw. Something I legitimately covet about writers who do it well, and you certainly do.... I enjoy your reality and the emotional range that you accomplish.
It's a talent and a true gift.
Thank you for sharing it - 🙏🏻
🌹-💙
B
5th Jun 2021 5:04pm
Blu
The gift.
I feel like you see me better than I see myself. Something like this. I so appreciate you seeing me at all. Your words I shall inscribe on my soul.
The gift.
I feel like you see me better than I see myself. Something like this. I so appreciate you seeing me at all. Your words I shall inscribe on my soul.
5th Jun 2021 1:46pm
Wonderful depth in this ... great writer introspection ... engaging ... kept me within the poem ...
5th Jun 2021 5:05pm
