Promised Poem
I had to write this peom for my creative writing class. The assignment was a word association game where we were asked to write the first thing that came to mind with the mention of: A fear, a foreign word, a piece of furniature, a weather condition, a relative, a color, a city you've never been to, and an insect. I thought it came out pretty good, considering that I suck worse at poetry that I do at bloggin' So here goes.
That's Entertainment
Don’t say a word to me about fairness,
‘cause I’ll never get to go to Paris.
While you and your overweight daughter
throw money around like balloons full of water.
Overweight is an understatement.
Over? Wait. I’ve go more I gotta say,
my lifelong cold snap ends today.
Like a cicada after 18 years,
it’s time to get through this dirt mound of fears.
You are a phalliphobic Freudian.
Lucky for me you don’t know what either of those mean.
So you can’t possibly read what’s written between.
You tried to learn French but you don’t know écrire
and despite what you said you haven’t written in a year.
Pinch your cheeks, you look pale.
I think the reason you look so white
is that you did not expect this fight.
So call on God to help you then
and I’ll sing *A-hem* a hymn for Him.
I stole your entertainment center.
It’s on public display in town.
Write me and I’ll give you the address.
There you go suckas.
As a follow up to a few comments left on a few of my other posts, I do not know how to make that link. Yes I am coming up Friday night. My hand smelled like vinnegar and caramelized sugar mixed in a respective 1:4 ratio inside a rotten pommegranate. The smell has not yet fully subsided. Now it smells like a weaker version of before, mixed with sandalwood soap and my shampoo.
I wrote 16 Haiku today. I was immensly proud of about five of them. I realized later that nobody else will probably ever read them. After about a week, I will probably forget I even wrote them. Knowing this, I am forced to wonder what else I may have written and forgot about. And not just me, what if Charles Dickens wrote something on a piece of scrap paper one day, a little anecdote or poem or something, but forgot about it? I would want to read that. So I am going to make an effort to keep everything I write in order to avoid depriving myself of some nostalgia a few years down the line.
On my self deprivation experience experiment, I have decided on my next project. Starting 20 October 2005, I am going to go two weeks without food. I will resume eating on 3 November. The purpose of the experiment is for me to discover what it is like to eat after not having done so for two weeks. I am not going on a hunger strike or fasting in a religious manner. Just a guy not eating for a long enough period of time to, with any luck, forget what it is like to eat, then eating. Wish me luck! Do what I said because I said it.
I leave you now with this to ponder. When writing, why do we capitalize I but not you, they, him, it, or them?
That's Entertainment
Don’t say a word to me about fairness,
‘cause I’ll never get to go to Paris.
While you and your overweight daughter
throw money around like balloons full of water.
Overweight is an understatement.
Over? Wait. I’ve go more I gotta say,
my lifelong cold snap ends today.
Like a cicada after 18 years,
it’s time to get through this dirt mound of fears.
You are a phalliphobic Freudian.
Lucky for me you don’t know what either of those mean.
So you can’t possibly read what’s written between.
You tried to learn French but you don’t know écrire
and despite what you said you haven’t written in a year.
Pinch your cheeks, you look pale.
I think the reason you look so white
is that you did not expect this fight.
So call on God to help you then
and I’ll sing *A-hem* a hymn for Him.
I stole your entertainment center.
It’s on public display in town.
Write me and I’ll give you the address.
There you go suckas.
As a follow up to a few comments left on a few of my other posts, I do not know how to make that link. Yes I am coming up Friday night. My hand smelled like vinnegar and caramelized sugar mixed in a respective 1:4 ratio inside a rotten pommegranate. The smell has not yet fully subsided. Now it smells like a weaker version of before, mixed with sandalwood soap and my shampoo.
I wrote 16 Haiku today. I was immensly proud of about five of them. I realized later that nobody else will probably ever read them. After about a week, I will probably forget I even wrote them. Knowing this, I am forced to wonder what else I may have written and forgot about. And not just me, what if Charles Dickens wrote something on a piece of scrap paper one day, a little anecdote or poem or something, but forgot about it? I would want to read that. So I am going to make an effort to keep everything I write in order to avoid depriving myself of some nostalgia a few years down the line.
On my self deprivation experience experiment, I have decided on my next project. Starting 20 October 2005, I am going to go two weeks without food. I will resume eating on 3 November. The purpose of the experiment is for me to discover what it is like to eat after not having done so for two weeks. I am not going on a hunger strike or fasting in a religious manner. Just a guy not eating for a long enough period of time to, with any luck, forget what it is like to eat, then eating. Wish me luck! Do what I said because I said it.
I leave you now with this to ponder. When writing, why do we capitalize I but not you, they, him, it, or them?
posted by AJ. That's right, AJ. | 1:10 PM
1 Comments:
Good stuff good stuff I say. You're a talented writer. Tell Chris not to be a panzy and to come up here with you. Tell him that I said Luke can kiss my butt and give my friend more notice before springing something on him like a surprize band concert nobody told him about! Also tell him I said he has much better talent without that band b/c he can use his own ideas! Tell him to stop letting those jerks walk all over him! Tell him that I love him.
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