Poetry In Bloom v2.0

Here's my new poetry thread. I haven't posted anything in a good long time,
but I've been writing all the while. So, I figured I'd start an all new thread to
share some new pieces. I'll start off sharing two of my new favourites, both
are very Kerouac/Morrison inspired. Hope you enjoy!

River (written on a recent camping trip)
-------------------------

Awareness is like the River
art imitates life,
and life imitates nature.
Nature is awareness.
The river is awake,
life is asleep,
consciousness is ubiquitous like
the river.
Everywhere, somewhere,
always.

Thoughts of life and death,
and the spaces in between.
A moment or two of Zen-like
concentration.

Hear the river,
feel it.
See the river,
be it.

Nothing is real, except for this
the realisations
I come to, down
by the river.

It Begins
----------
Soft wet feet, and skinned red hands
flushed white face, and burned red eyes
I always knew I was an alien.
sifting through dimensions,
distorting time,
flying.

My outrageous mind takes in
crisp, spring day.
The sun, dying, yellow behind
the virgin neighbour trees.
Unbelievably right now,
you dig?

The bloodsucking skeets just
won't quit.
Baby wind and night are at
my back, solitude is there.
Left the world behind,
for tonight.

Buddha moments fill the last
of labourer's lonely hours.
Empty and emptyheaded,
itchy and at peace,
Alive and asleep,
Free.

Ancient stretches and Ohms
will ease my soul.
One for today, one for tomorrow,
one for my Mother and Father.
Prayer for the Earth,
believe me.

Horizon breathes the salty sweat
from the seed's pores.
Release, return,
recycle, renew,
refresh, rebirth,
The End.

 

I dig it. Sounds like a good camping trip man.

 

Thanks, it was.

 

Hey, James:

For the poem "River":
This is very different from anything I've seen you write before... and I like that, because it proves how flexible you are as a writer. The style and content of the poem are unique, and I really the way it flowed [is flowed a word?!] I like the progression of the poem...like, it starts out very elaborate, sort of confusing [I actually really dig that, because it makes you think], goes into something sort of simple and precise, and then down to a conclusion--- I REALLY REALLY Loved that. I hope that makes sense lol....

Usually the content of this poem would bore me, not going to lie, but you made it fun and interesting to me. Good job


and the second one, I have to comment on in a moment because I'm going to leave right now lmao

<3

 

Ok now, now I have time to comment on the second one lol---
The second leaves me at a loss for words, because it's one of those things that just takes your breath away, and yet you can't put a finger on the exact thing that did it, or what as a combination did it....

But I can tell you the things that I can pick out, that I adore:

First of all the descriptive language in this was fucking amazing...

Here are parts I enjoyed best---"The sun, dying, yellow behind
the virgin neighbour trees." and this whole part, "The bloodsucking skeets just
won't quit.
Baby wind and night are at
my back, solitude is there.
Left the world behind,
for tonight."

That part ESPECIALLY left me with a sigh... It's something that I can feel and see as if it's happening...make sense?

Anyway, I also enjoy the sing-songy ness of the second one, a lot. It's something that if I read aloud would seem very rythmatic. I dug that a lot.

I can't pick a favorite between the two because they both are so different... though the content may both be based on nature, the styles are different and I can't seem to compare.

But, I want to say I think BOTH of these really show how far you've come as a writer. When I look back at your older works, more recent past writings, and these... You have a good, broad horizon, and that's a wonderful thing. Your flexibility as a poet is awesome, and something I haven't seen in even really famous poets. You can take any subject matter, and any style/form of poetry and make it sound like your own, while making it sound BEAUTIFUL.

Honestly... your art [poetry & music] make me feel warm inside. Always has.

And, I'm sure you can gather from this big long comment that yes, I'm extremely impressed. And for you to impress me beyond what you have in the past says a lot.

GREAT work

<3

 

I dig them too... especially this part,
love how you paint the viewer in;
seeing it with you.

 

not going to lie, the first piece isn't really to my taste. well written, without a doubt, but not something i particular enjoyed reading. i did, however, very much enjoy the second piece. such vivid imagery and language... just... wonderful! you have a great talent, my friend, and i hope to be reading more of your work in the future. blessings~

 

Thanks so much to everyone for your warm comments. They fill me with joy and a sense of confidence, knowing my writing actually connects with people. Glad to see people enjoyed it. I'll add more when I can.

 

Something I forgot to say, last comment, was that those poems are very much a style I've been into for the past few months, and have been delving into more and more as time progresses. I've been writing with two friends of mine alot, and we've been collaborating on some shit, too, all of which is amazing. I'll share some of those later. I have another new one (solo) that I wrote the other night in a drunk haze. Gotta love that!

Oh, and I'd also like to note that this is my 2000th post. Yay me.

Untitled (the drunken haze)
---------------------------

Avoiding Seven Sundays
at my own cost,
for my own good,
in turn for tragic broadway comedies.

The girl friend,
her bare skin,
still so vivd in the
drunken mind of adolescence.

Ha ha ha, the genius
naked against his love
the day he died,
rain fell on the world.

I'm gunna guess
the rest of the words
Save the world? Stop it?
Are you getting off?

I guess everyone wants to,
at least at some point
leaving you with this,
the birth of the Mojave.

The End.
---------

And here are some drunken haikus my friend and I did. Mine are the ones in bold.

Despite my fate
my bitten back
arches towards the sun


I could feel free
from factory convictions
Now slanted summer lawn.

Highpitched vowels
wind picks up,
Joe eats a plane


Flick ash on grass
lighter between toes
stall on the third line

Tom O'Malley
was shaggy
and mangy, man.
------------


That's all, for now. Sorry, they're all probably a little incoherent, thanks to the alcohol. Until next time!

 

i like em man
all except the haikus
they're not really my thing
but they'll all great
keep it coming

 

hahaha, I love the drunken poetry. Incoherent writings are rock and roll, really. I love it.

The haikus were a little off the wall, but the poem above it was entertaining. I enjoyed it muchly

 

Hahaha, nobody digs the haikus?! Awww, man! I love haikus so much.

 

Haha no, I like haikus, but those were a little ...well I don't know the words to describe the way I felt about those particular haikus.

I was never too much a fan of haikus, but I REALLY enjoyed the ones you wrote a while back about Kahlo and what not. Those were effing adorable, and I dug those a lot.

 

Well, those haikus are done in a very Kerouacesque state of mind. Meaning
they are very random, and off the top of our heads. Most of them were
based on the conversations going on around us, at the time. I.E. The one
about Tom O'Malley was based on a cat my friends family used to have, and
they were discussing it. They were talking about shaggy and mangy he used
to be, so I wrote about it. They're obviously not the best ones I've done, but
you know.

 

Have you ever felt so useless,
so unheard?
Above all noise, trying to rise,
mouth full of silent words.
I am the Transcendentalist,
I am the wind,
I am the finished
I am the end.
Whatever, a flower mind
blooming in the breeze, I
float like a cartoon pod
away...

Slowly realising that a silent
voice is a sacred choice, feeling
poised and ready to make a
primal rage, an ancient noise.
I come along
into this world,
just a simple mind
alone and awake,
alight and afraid.
Good God,
I feel so small,
I feel so large
I think alone,
I live in you.
Three Buddhist minds
remembered as two.

(no title for this one)

 

Awww, boo.

 

A drunken poem my friends and I wrote on a typewriter last night, entitled "feelin' fine." I apologize for any confusion. I've retyped it here, as it appears on the page.

(sic)

singingitsworkingbutnospacebarforyoureverunderstandinginthisss




but.wait.use.periods.it.all.makes.sense.now
but.wait.
if.periods.act.as.spaces.what.shall.i.use.as.periods-
im.thinking.nothingness
yes.im.thinking.thats.quitesuitable
zoom zoomzoomzoooooooom

quite.suitable

here.
a.typewriter
no.backspacing,no.saving.no.correcting

only.theprocess.of.printing.and.creating

self.sedatingI
self.sedating.eye,in.peril.,in.pain....crooked.eyes,
slanted.mind,enchanted.lives,entangled.in.time...
the.mind.of.a. ...an.alien...a.visitor.....mine,
the.mind.of.today,tomorrow....whatever.




here.back.againingly.recreating.the.past.on.white.white.craving.paper
needing.some.and.sort.supporter...stop...think...listen.stop.now.but.not.stopp
pppp.but.now.listen

its.this.on.thoughts.in.thoughts.of.this.can.
not.ass.
garbage
can.you.live.with.me.in.important.sin
and.know.now.whats.past-and-been.

heres.the.line.

getting.highwith.one.hand. .anding.wanting.in.food.
sea.and.farm.and.garden.

 

Two more...One's a compromised poem with a friend, and the other is by myself.

Untitled compromised thingy (my lines are in bold)
----------------------------------------------

Growing lives in a garden
Development stages; 1, 2, 3.
We do the things we do,
the way we do,
only for today...
and then we're gone.

You gotta taste your roots to see the sky,
piece of pie,
tasting a leaf,
being a guy.

We're a "the" infront of a crackling moment.

Strides worth stepping,
prides worth prepping,
lives worth developing.

We know we're worth wine on lined paper
when it drives a striving hand
Describing a land,
about truths and right hands condeming.

Lightly blowing embers from my sleeve,
dreaming wistfully of psychoactive
forests in our collective mind.

Who would care?
Who would dare
enter
our demented lives?
///


An Overbearing Thought (also a will)
----------------------------------
A burial in riches is a
sacred priveledge.
We must earn the right
to taste the ground.
Nothing's just allowed.

"Adorn me in death, for I
suffered in life."
Cruel twist of fate.

The dead don't dream
to lie on velvet and valour,
a mound of dirt is fine.

Our love is the grave.

The death of a coyote
is the truest way to die.
Out amongst the trees,
dying on our back.
We'll die giving meals,
we'll die giving back.

Give me a headstone of wood,
and bark, and sap.
Burn my body, my mind,
my clothes and bury the whole.

The rest can
be divided
for the
poets I know.

Drum me on into the
next life,
Drum me on into
the sun.
Sing me sweet Cherokee lullaby,
make me proud to die.

Speak a single word
or two,
in free-form or
in prose.

And with your
tears, help to seed
the newborns, the old,
the leaves, the trees.

Take my Earth,
everyone,
and wrap it around
your neck.
///

Hope you all enjoy. I kinda felt like I failed on the second one, but a friend of mine really liked it.

 

I really like the lines you used in the recent poem, beautiful. I love your "flowy-ness"

The poem with all the periods though, made my head hurt a little. It was clever in many ways and I loooove the creativity.

<3 keep writing, I'll keep reading!!!!!

 

Thanks, hehe. The one with all the periods was like that, because the spacebar is broken on my typewriter is broken, so we used periods instead. I felt it fitting to retype it as it was, hehe.