The ets poetry thread
Okay, i write. A LOT.
And it turns out that
is actually a published poet! (some of you probably already knew this, but i just found out.)
We have been talking a little bit, and decided that it would be cool to do this, to start a poetry thread. Short prose is acceptable too.
My friend Brandon Selway and i started a facebook poetry group called Meta Poetics that really blew up...y'all check it out if you like.
Judging by the success we've had there, i think we might REALLY have a killer group here for three reasons. One, we are tighter knit than facebook...well, than my facebook crewanyway. We are of above average intelligence. And finally, we are a very creative bunch. I am willing to bet that more of us write than don't.
So post your poems and let's all read and discuss each other's work.
Don't be shy!
I will go first. I've already posted this one here once, but i'm proud of it and it's recent.
my sweetest dream (my lore)
my precious princess
you're the door
that opens (hopeandtrustandus)
awake and seamless (give
and take/away) the stress :
that bound us mend us
bending time (again begin this)
hold me (slowly dance) and cleave
one to the other and believe
(i'm your brother)
blessing our undressing
stressing-clutching fists and testing
Now i have you singing
soothing/breathing deep agreeing: (seeing
home again) my
GOD ive missed you
hold me closer
This is one of my favorites and it was published in March's edition of Coachella Valley Magazine.
Though I have been dearly departed
Life is not far from me
Where you remain in my heart
Keep me company tonight
Warm my bones
Sing me the songs I once sang
Offer me a drink
Tell me the stories I loved to hear
The night is full of joy
As you have not forgotten me
The light from the candles
Flicker on the face I still remember
Marked by the days gone by
How I can recall the time we spent together
Those moments I know you yearn for too
It will not be long, my love
Before you will depart too
And eternity will be ours to keep
. That one is LOVELY. You write as though you were living in a different time!
So is this thread just going to be me and you,
I'll throw down another one later today.
I am a published poet, as well!
Here's something that hasn't been published.
Tonight, in Brighton
Davey sniffs too much oxycontin after slipping from his
skateboard on Beacon and slamming his shoulder into
that fence that divides the inbound and outbound tracks
of the C line. I poke at the bruising flesh pretending to
know what I’m doing when really I’ve never even seen
a broken bone. He squirms; I tell him to go to the hospital
but his health insurance ran out last June, and besides, they’ll
know he’s high and start asking questions. He can’t feel
his left arm anymore. Still, it’s not a pretty sight and he asks
me if I can take it off and put it in the freezer for later so
I throw a fleece blanket over him and his pinhole eyes
roll back in his head, that big goofy smile comes over his
face and he tells me he always wanted to be a marine biologist.
“You hate fish,” I tell him, “and you can’t even swim.” His
grin turns into something manic, subhuman, animal even
and he says the only way to love something is to understand it,
then Davey gets real serious and in hushed whispers starts
telling me that before the infection in his shoulder spreads
and he dies of gangrene he just needs somebody to know
where to find his life’s work. I retrieve the laptop from
his bedroom, navigate at his instruction to discover a folder
filled with everything Sarah Larkin ever posted on the internet.
“Jesus, Davey,” I say, taking note of the meticulously
arranged system of subfolders, dated and labeled, going
back over a decade. I tell him high school’s been over a long time
and this is crazy and he needs professional help but he waves
his good hand to dismiss the notion and says “No, no, it’s not like that.”
I ask Davey what it is like.
He says that all matter in the known universe shares a single
point of origin and swears all of the hang-ups he’s experienced
in his adult life come down to his inability to accept the indisputable
truth that he and Sarah are both parts of the same eternal, infinite being;
that when she cheated on him with Kevin Morrissey in 11th grade she
was simply expressing the dualistic nature of Davey’s own humanity,
acting on the very same electrical impulses that drove him to love her
comprehensively. I open up Sarah’s Facebook page and ask Davey if her career
and husband and two children were all born out of the same
electrical impulses that drive him to ingest so many pharmaceuticals.
His response is a wild cackle, like a wounded hyena
in a nature documentary where the lions are clearly portrayed
as the protagonists. “Hush, Davey,” I say, “you’ll wake your neighbors.”
He coughs a bit on his own laughter and quiets down, looks me dead
in the eyes and asks if I think there’s a market for narwhal erotica.
I shut his computer and tell him to sleep on his side so he doesn’t choke.
Dude I fucking LOVED that
Kind of too bad this didn't take off. Here's one about a raccoon that ate all the peanuts and came back for the hot ones i hadn't yet laid out whilst camping a couple years back. (those things are scary big at 3am fully hammered.)
For Ricky ...
Bold betrayer of my sanctuary, mausoleum
Past discretion a memory until your return
Ease and confidence mark your proud gait
Disturbed you calmly retreat back, one step
Only to resume again your wanton desires
Sated, smug, satisfied you disappear, alone
Our folly made clear in this display of will
This nights sacrifice mere peanuts to you
i KNOW more people write here. I'm gonna post something in "the little things that piss you off" and bitch about no one participating.
I wrote this as a reaction to the Newtown, Connecticut school shootings.
The Pit Of Madness
Your ghastly reminder
Your shambling inkspot
Drawn to end of page
this monolith of
at holding tears
yet the covering of faces
In a shame of
a hollowed soul
the gap becomes
The etched remnants
of angry words
left on this small desk
amid the smoky din.
As questions float to surface
the ballast of hurt
peers around that corner
God doesn't want you to see.
Broken becomes us.
what powerful verses, @sentient02970 .
Definitely some heart felt work!
Thank you, SINCERELY, for participating, man.
I can't put my finger on why, but this thread, and the very idea of an ETS poetry group REALLY means a lot to me.
I love you fuckers...i really do
Last edited by elevenism; 12-10-2014 at 09:30 AM.
(This is my response to an unexpected poetry incident in "The little things that piss you off." Since it didn't piss me off, this seems like a more appropriate place to reply.)
Even though I'm really not into poetry, I have to say I liked that. Reminds me of what I enjoy about Saul Williams's music … so I guess that means I like some poetry after all? I forget that he was a poet before he started doing music.
Originally Posted by Charmingly Miserable
@Joy Prevention Hotline
this is my favorite Saul Williams poem, though it occurs in a hip hop song.
It's also my favorite hip hop song...if you flat out hate rap and just want to hear saul, skip to about 2:45.
but i HIGHLY recommend the rest of it. Gift of Gab of Blackalicious goes off the fucking chain...better than any rapper you will hear on the radio. plus it features zack de la rocha .
"i can think of nothing heavier than an airplane. i can think of no greater conglomerate of steel and metal. i can think of nothing less likely to fly."
Niggy Tardust was also the first hint that I like some kinds of hip hop, especially what AllMusic calls experimental hip hop. I'd put this in that category.
Originally Posted by elevenism
I need to beef up my commuting playlist — I actually ran out last week and had to pull over so I could cue up The Fragile — so new music is always a good thing.
(Experimental hip hop opened me up to stuff like Public Enemy, too.)
Diaphanous perch devours the unsteady
Such is nature that ungracious host
I lie censored in the garden of exile
Sight lost in the filament of a fevered pitch
My skin splinters as my hair draws brittle
Teeth crumbling under a florescent sky
The flesh gives way to reason alone
I now abdicate hope, for life plays most unfair
Sun bleached column of rain
Bleeding clouds seeping through the pastel
A portal opens
Waves of heat race forward
Intrusive now, a light beams through
Impaling the solipsistic
A single thought gathers momentum
As her screams become intently unfocused
The child of Anil is born
Breathing shallow now
Sight dims to accommodate
So silent this rhythm has become
Thanks for the kind words and Likes, guys. I hadn't logged in in a while and it was really nice to see. Appreciate it.
the rose is
when you enter
you know it's
how you simply
thorns that forgot
eat you alive
staked to the wall
frozen in free fall
the king of the hall
and oh how
the roots thrive
you never even
had to try
broke the rules
take your spade
dig down deep
you will not keep
eat me alive
forged in your fire
branded by desire
all i require
is this moment.
alive feb 22nd 2015
i'll be yours if you'll be mine
now i guess we're on rewind
back to the start, will it matter
we're still us, mismatched patterns
being yours, like a wave to the shore,
i return to the source, being yours.
an orange is still not a square
we're awake but no more aware
unless fundamental structures shifted
the wheat and chaff still haven't been sifted
being yours, i'll unlock the door
though i'm so much more, being yours.
so, yes, i am yours as i'll always be
what that is worth to you remains to be seen
i take back the denial and lift the ban
all so you can have the least of what i am
being yours, like a wave to the shore,
i return to the source, being yours.
being yours jan 26 2015
I used to write a TONS of poetry. Even ran my own publication for a while because i felt that breaking into publishing was pretty hard, and I wanted to give people with different writing styles ( like my own) a place to have a voice.
I think this is the only evidence of the zine left online: http://zinewiki.com/Black_Book_Press
I still have all my hard copies though. I remember spending long hours at the UPS store mass copying that thing and then more long hours of folding and stapling and sealing envelopes.
Somewhere I have a box of all of the publications I was printed in (Somewhere) lol.
Brings back good memories from college though (as I started the zine in my dorm room)
I've been rediscovering Ezra Pound recently and found inspiration which that came instantly, then became devastated by a stupid poem I wrote, then in my reaction to my own stupid poem, I wrote something I actually liked and wanted to share instantly instead of forget forever in my journal to just be reread three years down the line before destroying the journal (I have fantasies of burning all my journals, except that requires rereading them. I've gone through a third of them now but haven't gotten to the point of actually destroying them. I may give myself a few more years.)
Anyways, here it is.
The snow are my thoughts.
The garden is my dream.
The winter is symbolic
of how frustrating and
disappointing my artistic
endeavors have been.
If you can even call them endeavors.
A center point defined as origin
I began as a soul without direction
Trace vector to concentric radius
I allowed the world around me shape my path
Distance determinant of velocity from origin
I slipped away, from the you, from the us
A nonlinear function defined by multiple variables
Nothing to hold on to, adrift in my shame and sorrow
The center of mass is acted upon by a gravitational constant
You guided me with a loving hand, unyielding love
Harmonic amplitude will decay over time
But years swept me under and you slipped away
Force in a magnetic field is perpendicular to the motion of a particle passing through
Your distance drove my will to commit myself, to conquer the dark
The total amount of energy in a closed system stays constant over time
Discovery became the story of us, the inner part of us, our core.
Small differences in the initial conditions of a dynamic system may produce large variations in the long term behavior of a system.
Together, forever, drifting to that unknown
Originally Posted by sentient02970
Counts her stars we'll
Texas sky and
Tried and tied
(My words, my sentence)
Miles and steel
Can't come between us
Now they've seen us
(How we've changed! And)
(Stayed the same and)
Our Things and dreams
(And far aways)
(And breaking seams)
And misty princess
i took choices
how else can
of their fancies?
there is more
if sleeping beauty
isn't your speed
pretend does not
meet your need
speak the truth
and you will be freed
is it not
long past time
to your deed?
may 10 2015
oh yes, my darling
yes, my dear
rain does have a smell
and it is clear
much like its colour
wet bubbly spheres.
yes, you can hear it
as it sings its
through the soil
carving hard ground.
it calls to the ocean
its laughter sounds like bells
and it dances like a rainbow
all through your cells.
water is alive,
my baby love,
floating in clouds
or melting on your glove.
water is life
my little heart,
we all fluttered in it
right from the start.
i know scent
may 11 2015
Last edited by Lew; 05-12-2015 at 12:15 PM.
it's been a long time since i checked this thread.
i REALLY like the one about water and rain.
you don't have to thank me for liking it brotha. I like it because it's GOOD! you can't choose to like something. But i'm damned glad i "made your year!" I'd like to read more!
Originally Posted by Lew
And as far as poems being to rhymey, i remember one of my "ultra-hip" friends telling me "dude, you still read poetry that RHYMES?"
Fuck that shit man. The whole idea that good poetry doesn't rhyme is idiotic.
For me, a big part of poetry is the "melody" of the words, you know? And a good rhyme scheme is often a good way to help create the "melody."
Some of my work has VERY intricate rhymes (i dreamed she never left me and that nothing ever changed and that the cloud in which she kissed me never burst into the rain continues falling calling softly sweetly whispering my name i try to rise in vain but still i'm crawling hoping that i'm sane,) for instance.
And my favorite poets, Emily Dickenson and ee cummings-their work rhymed.
As for what i worry about, i worry that my stuff is too much of a straight-up cummings rip off.
I'm a Shakespeare sonnets girl. What kind of stupid uneducated heathen thinks good poetry doesn't rhyme? Shoot them lest they breed.
Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away
From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers;
This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours
Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,
And the age changed unto a mimic play
Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:
For all our pomp and pageantry and powers
We are but fit to delve the common clay,
Seeing this little isle on which we stand,
This England, this sea-lion of the sea,
By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land
Which bare a triple empire in her hand
When Cromwell spake the word Democracy!
- Oscar Wilde
Last edited by allegro; 10-26-2015 at 11:48 PM.