Tag Archives: writing
A Reflection: Manufacturing Poetry
I knew I couldn’t do it. But I tried. I tried my damnedest too. April was considered to be National Poetry Writing Month with the goal of writing one poem per day. I couldn’t do this. During this past month … Continue reading
Cumulonimbus (18 of 30)
(dedicated to Prince Roger Nelson) I could give 23 reasons why I long for one-night stands and the purple sky exonerates as the world is malevolent, scattering a dandelion far-off from the ground in which it grew, latching onto soil and rooftops, hope and inspiration; … Continue reading
Loose Ends (12 of 30)
Winter sucks away this life from me. You draw me closer, just to try to fuck with me. Stop correcting my words, when you’re worse than me. Let me walk away because things are not what they seem. Let me pinch you to prove … Continue reading
You Should Have Been a Serial Killer (10 of 30)
You should have been a serial killer with the ways you stalked me like herpes at prom, disappearing like Houdini, reappearing from nothingness. I was never impressed. I needed you to go. Get gone. You should have been a doctor with your callous … Continue reading
Mein Kampf (6 of 30)
Separate substance with razor blades, and let the regime fall in line, then snort– White goons with right hands at 45-degree angles face the orange dipstick covered in oil and a smoke-yellow toupee, exuding power and certainty and judgment upon those once weak, and … Continue reading
The Red Wheel Barrel (2 of 30)
So much depends upon The red wheel barrel Filled with banned books, Soon to be burned, Pushed by a castrated Rhineland Bastard Carrying harps along his sides, Playing slightly flat with tubercular coughs, Marching to Pachelbel Canon in D. God … Continue reading
My Writing Process (or “Gods Mourn Too”)
In my head, and from a writer’s perspective, writers are Gods. We create and we destroy. We reward and we punish. And yet we, too, mourn. No one wants to punish or destroy their creations. We, writers, mourn. We, writers, grieve. Most often we emote privately because no one will understand why such grief, so it’s easier to do it in seclusion. Continue reading
