Once again thank you for coming! And I hope you enjoy this momentary distraction please leave your comments or thoughts. They are most welcome!

Friday 23 September 2011

An Etymology of Common Mating Habits

The next few poems I'll post share something different in common to the last. I went back once again to the idea of Chapters. It's a cool sense to take little fragments and create this brief glimpse of the world from them. This time I thought I'd write something...well yes, a little dirty. Those really gross moments that are part of people's day to day sex lives, that dirty moment. That's what this poem is all about, but I think what I'm trying to do and honestly it's not very subtle, but I'd like to think the next few poems are all about the subtext.


Words are powerful things! I'd written some pretty cool poems on some posted notes while I was dozing off at work, unfortunately I won'tbe sharing them today, but they are coming do not fret! Anyway I hope this poem isn't too off putting.


An Etymology of Common Mating Habits

I

Here cums the typing man
Hitting his keys like no one else can
Tic-tic, thwack-tic, thawck-thawck
Sounds each new thought as it
Spreads thingly white on the page

II

Tight so deliciously tight
clinging firm to that rotund frame
tightly embracing bodies up in
tightness
Constricted to pro(perf)jection

III

Ever seen that trick she done with
the big cherry stalk in them red
oval lips the ones that say O
in the wee hours

                          ...Yeah no need to tell me son I know
                          where your eyes be.

Monday 19 September 2011

Zig-zag

Well on with the theme of September structure. Well maybe hit and miss with the last ones, but I have placed a lot of limits on this one. It's pretty self-explanatory, but Poets have a play this is pure silliness. Hope you enjoy read it out I think it will be better that way.


Zig-zag
Bang bam snap
Wham smack boom crash
Twang whump whoosh
Ka-pow ka-boom
Va-room

Friday 16 September 2011

Sink Holes

I accidentally deleted this. Still getting the hang of this iPhone app, but I think I can remember this one. It's only one line after all. The funny thing is I ad something very different in mind when I thought of the title sink holes.

In the end I limited myself to one line. Often I've been told the trick with poetry is to know when to finish. With poems your often dealing with thoughts and images and it is in the nature of these things not to end. Images are lingering and thoughts never end . So really how do you end? Sometimes the beat time to end a thought for me is when the writing starts requiring too much analysis by that time the creative mind is switched off and the analytical is in full swing. Call it a clieche but I'd say most poetry comes from a more organic place unlike other types of writing there is something very imprecise and uncertain about it. Anyway that's my two cents and this is Sink Holes and honestly your guess is as good as mine as to what this is about.

I think limiting it to one line leaves some mystery any longer and this poem would have too much meaning (what a ridiculous thing to say).

Sink Holes

"...he slid through the mud only wearing the clothes he was born in..."

Wednesday 14 September 2011

Bitter Teeth

What began as an exercise in venting turned into something slightly more intellectual. I have to admit I really like what the title to this poem suggests. I think people underestimate how powerful a title is to the meaning of the piece. In a way I like to think a title tells you how to read something.

So this is another move to do something more structured. Structure my poetry tutor said is a pretty wide concept basically it's any sort of limitation imposed on the piece. It could be a rhyming scheme or number of words on each line or letters on each line. It's a fun way to challenge yourself imposing limits on language because it actually helps expand how you use language. Interesting paradox I know. Anyway bitter teeth is limited by words per lines but also the type of phrases I used as you will see I tried to limit as well.

Bitter Teeth

Bite and tear
Rend and squash
Rupture and seal
Burn bite and break

Fallen and beauty
Ugly and pain
Good and death
Cold blank and unfeeling

Dark wretched and lost

Sink Holes (part 2)

Hey all,

This is to my good friend. She's been having an amazing romance like crazy the sort we all want.

So here it is a love poem. It's different and the same for all of us I think (paradox) but keeping with the theme of structure I decided to pare back the poem to four simple thoughts. Anyway I hope you enjoy this homage to love and it's nice to write something happy (still intense though) for a change.

Sink Holes (part 2)

I want you as my blanket every morning beside me

I want to drown and consume all of you forever

I want for this to be less and more than everything that is possible

I need you and only you now and always.



Tuesday 13 September 2011

Lillies

Hey Everyone,

This poem is dedicated to a really special friend of mine. I'm incredibly happy for her and yet sad at the same time, because I know she's moving on in her life and the path she's heading down for better or worse will change things between us. She's a pretty cool girl I can assure you, but really I suppose this poem is about friendship it's about that constant fight in our lives over priorities and ultimately, it's about how as hard as it can be sometimes, we all have our own personal roads to follow.

This is  Lillies.

 Lillies

we walk in shallow graves
with distant memories around
our ankles like flowers
lillies bobbing on the surface

a beautiful mark left behind
on the pool and is it 
impossible to keep treading
water in the depths

of another to stay with
them or do we all give way
to nature as she sounds our call
do we all let the lillies carry on their way

do we just watch and 
try not to cry as
we all take our own 
separate boats down

the current

and step back into
the shallow grave
dreaming hopes that
can never be.

Monday 12 September 2011

Halycons

Snatching away in the light of dark
Snarking about in layers peeled behind mirrors
Lurking down parallel corridors

Perhaps you say they are mere
Purveyors, Surveyors once maybe even Governors
I used to know what they looked like
Snatching a glimpse of one's shadow
They were not I am suprised to say
So different from we or we them
This is after all their design
But they are bored now

Taunting at the edge of the imagined and real
Larking at out inability to see or understand
Toppling us all into wretchedness

No son I have not seen a Halycon and
I never intend to.

Saturday 3 September 2011

Year Zero: The Cambodian Genocide, The Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot

Hey Everyone,

But especially Gen-Y or Z for that matter. I feel a bit guilty and sure I can try and invent exscuses but there is a lot of stuff in the world I have been completely blind too. In the age of the web, we can sometimes be selfish and not even think to google the important stuff. Recently, though following on from a conversation of my parents mentioning Pol Pot, I wondered, perhaps its about time I see just how horrible this guy was. The results are frightening. I won't really go into too much detail, but if you have the time, I highly recommend you go onto youtube and google "Pol Pot" or "the Secret Killer" it's a documentary about the life of Pol Pot and how he turned into a murderous dictator. There's also a cool doco called "cry Bloody Murder", which canvasses alot of recent genocidal events, from Serbia, to Cambodia, to Rwanda. It's not nice it's really horrible, but I think we need to get real and at least understand what happened in these places.

So my poem is about Cambodia. What happened in Cambodia? Well the Khmer Rouge, staged a military coupe and took over Cambodia between 1975-1979 and changed its name to the Democratic Republic of Kampuchea. They also tried to kill off all the educated, all the ethnics and all religions. The idea was only the native peasants were spared. On top of that Pol Pot removed everyone from the cities and towns, into Rural peasant villages to grow rice. He did this for four years, for four years the city was a ghost town. Two million people were killed, two million or a quarter of the population. Forced to starve to death cultivating the land and to dig their own mass graves. It truly was horrific and what's worse is that if the stars hadn't alligned in Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge's favour, it might never have happened. It makes me sick to think about it, but if you have a moment today. Take a second to pray or think about everything these poor people lost. If you want to know more I highly recommend reading "First they Killed my Father", it's a great book told from the perspective of a woman, who lived through the dark years when she was only a child.

Also check out this link.



YEAR ZERO

They marched them into the fields
And beat their spirits down
with blunt instruments

Money lost all meaning
It was no more than toilet paper to them

There was their utopia
And they fashioned it's terms
Over so many years
Forced to wait like rats

There romantic tale was finally
Written with mud and rice and blood
The fields were ripe and red for
Their unnatural harvest

The world was unmade but
Behind their unassuming veil
They had unleashed hell on earth

And how fragile had it all been
How easy to undo what had taken
centuries to build
But they were gods it was their nature
to create

Even now it will never be as it was
There is no going back
There is nothing left
Before YEAR ZERO.






BS

Hey all folks,

Welcome to September. I have missed my postings and don't you worry, two new poems coming right at you. The first I hazard to post lest someone come googling for yours truly, however, I like how simple it is. Basically we're talking stream of conscience here, no imagery, no metaphors, no artifice. It's in the same vein as a lot of other stuff I've posted but put through a filter. So I'll post it. Let me know what you think. I do warn you though, the tone of this writer's poetry is going to stay a little dark for a while longer.

BS

Am I marketable enough?
Am I right
Those aren't my questions
They are theirs

Do I fit?
Can I fit in
Am I like you
And what if I'm not

Am I allowed to be different
can I really afford to be myself
I'm not sure anymore.

Is it worth it
Will I even like it
Why even bother?

I don't believe
what they say
There is no reward in this.

Why aren't I allowed just
for once to admit
This really sucks...