e.e., Willie, and Me

For our Analysis of Literary Forms class we've had to read a wide variety of very interesting pieces. Some of the most prominent in my mind are e.e. cummings and William Faulkner. Both of these writers were largely modernist in their style and composition, emphasizing free verse and stream of conscious quite frequently. And it is because of these two greats that I find myself doing this:

"These, Thoughts"

11/16/09

Do you love me more than these?

My mind

A vagabond

Roman, circus, or not

No home

[So many]

Just thoughts

[So many]

Wanderer

My mind

[So many]

thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts fill my head

build build build control my mind sway me away from the

true path

[truth proven in vulnerable

forced to understand truth

broken till belief]

Then I hear—

Do you love me more than these?

Hesitation

Do you love me more than these?

Perhaps

Do you love me more than these?

Yes. Now, body, act.

God helps those who help

Others

I realize the brackets are very e.e cummings, but they really seem to set the text apart in a way that parentheses, italics, bold, all caps can't. And I think it's really important for the bracket portions to be separated.

Anyway, it's been a while since I've posted, and even longer since I've posted creativity, so I'm going to put one more up. This is a few months old, but still one of my favorites...maybe I'll put two.

"A Cigarette With God"

9/25/09

Does it hurt? I don’t

‘no.’

Confusion-delusion profuses

And the noose is

…not mine.

Hands in the air

With everybody else staring at me

There’s more rope if you wanna go…

Not mine.

And that’s where I struggle.

That’s where I hurt.

Where this heart screams that instead I

Take the noose!

And hang the emotions!

Fuck my heart!

I can survive

I can live

I’ll be OK!

And Norah calms me

“Something has to make you run…”

My feet are tired

They hurt

I need new shoes because these ones

Are worn

And sole-less

Thank God I’m not soulless with my

Feet on gravel

Blood

Crimson

Raw

Bones

And I’m tired.

Should I worry?

Do I dare?

My heart is bare from all these cares

And the cost of these fairs is so great my rhymes even fucking annoy me!

“All

This

Uselessness

I

Write”

Leave me on the tile

“emptiness”

Longing for

“Distractions.”

And finding God silent.

Leisure strolls with fear in tow.

Finding God waiting.

Smoking His last cigarette.

Where were You?

I felt You.

I saw You.

Knew You.

But couldn’t hear You.

“WAIT.”

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

Are You annoyed?

Are you?

Cause I am!

Then He passed me His last

And taught me to relax

Taught me to calm the storms of my

Capsized, bleeding ship now floating

Where were You?

Where were You?

I was here.

I AM here all along.

I know. But where were You?

Silent. Does that bother you?

And then my turn…

I trust

And I wait

That one is what spurred on my recent post entitled "The 'Fuck' I'm Talking About".

I really enjoy it because it accurately shows my struggle at that time. And I think it is so beautiful. Sorry if any are offended (by either the f-word, or the image of God smoking [see The Fray's song "You Found Me"])

"Table"

9/15/09

Quiet night

Darkest liquid calm my nerves

I feel I am the only

One of my kind

Alone

Solitary

Table as my company

No kings or rich man can compare

Try, electric generators if you dare but

I know I am

Alone

Failed metaphors of poet’s past

May tempt my mind to ease

There is no one like

Me

We

Are alone

To hoard and store, few can compare

To this “fair” price we fare for our

Transgressions?

Nay, for our hope.

Ha ha ha!

Hope!

Thanks be to God for my hope!

This gift that I must hold for now

To save bestow for someone grand

But hold it close, keep it tight!

For hope will give me life…

And where does this hope lead?

This special hope bleed?

To love

Thanks be to God for my love

This gift I must hold for now

To save bestow—

Crimson

Clover

Crowded heart

Claustrophobia

I hold so much in my heart so much passion emotions love and I’m not sure what to do with it I don’t see a drain for my relief or a leak to release this swelling and so it builds builds builds builds builds and I am left to hold it with nowhere to put it no one to share it and you can’t see my pain you can’t understand…

And I don’t know why we’re alone

Or what great sins we to atone,

I only know that I have love

And not a way to rid me of—

These quiet nights

Downtown

Coffee shop

Table for one, please.

These are seriously my three favorite poems I've written this year. I think they are so progressive and show so much of my development as a writer and poet. They really are the essence of my recent poet-identity-crisis (see...oh I haven't written a blog about that yet...hm), my experimentation because of that dilemma, and the changes that have been happening in my life this semester.

Too much good stuff.

As always, thanks for reading.