Hey here are two poems, the first one I wrote by taking quotes from the prologue to fightclub and re-arranging them to not be about fight club...the second one I just wrote, so feedback is encouraged, and is also a sorta agressive poem.
And Then The 4-H clubs in Virginia Prohibited Mormon Law
Think of a kind of glue
or mortar
That would hold together
a mosaic
of details and moments
...The beginning
in the beginning they were
just
blue-collared nobodies living
in Oregon
with only a public school education
these students decided that
“there is nothing that a
blue collared nobody
in Oregon, with a public school
education can imagine that people
haven’t already
done.”
and then
they fought for individuality:
shirtless and black eyed,
bloodied and bandaged
walk down the street howling into the night
praying they had finally found themselves
to challenge someone is
to compete with the espresso machine
to compete with ESPN
to beat Citizen Kane
to beat six million dollars
magazine and newspaper
editors
Started Calling them
Radio interviewers
asked
“Tell me the truth”
The Truth is that
the faceless
nameless
reporters
create the framework
for telling any
story
the important part of this story
is that the important part
…wasn’t important
then
suddenly the world featured an expose
on
old ladies, political, cartoons, and
neutral sorbet.
people called the students
too dark
too violent
too strident
shrill...and
dogmatic
they walked down the street
grinning,
bruised faces
The 4-h clubs in Virginia were busted
they had Prohibited Mormon Law
Everyone forgot about Oregon
the students had fought tooth and nail for this
they’d get drunk and ask each-other
“Is there nothing a blue-
collared nobody living in
Oregon with a public school
education can imagine that people
haven’t already done?”
then they were exhausted.
Tired isn’t the same,
but a majority of the time its close enough.
or mortar
That would hold together
a mosaic
of details and moments
...The beginning
in the beginning they were
just
blue-collared nobodies living
in Oregon
with only a public school education
these students decided that
“there is nothing that a
blue collared nobody
in Oregon, with a public school
education can imagine that people
haven’t already
done.”
and then
they fought for individuality:
shirtless and black eyed,
bloodied and bandaged
walk down the street howling into the night
praying they had finally found themselves
to challenge someone is
to compete with the espresso machine
to compete with ESPN
to beat Citizen Kane
to beat six million dollars
magazine and newspaper
editors
Started Calling them
Radio interviewers
asked
“Tell me the truth”
The Truth is that
the faceless
nameless
reporters
create the framework
for telling any
story
the important part of this story
is that the important part
…wasn’t important
then
suddenly the world featured an expose
on
old ladies, political, cartoons, and
neutral sorbet.
people called the students
too dark
too violent
too strident
shrill...and
dogmatic
they walked down the street
grinning,
bruised faces
The 4-h clubs in Virginia were busted
they had Prohibited Mormon Law
Everyone forgot about Oregon
the students had fought tooth and nail for this
they’d get drunk and ask each-other
“Is there nothing a blue-
collared nobody living in
Oregon with a public school
education can imagine that people
haven’t already done?”
then they were exhausted.
Tired isn’t the same,
but a majority of the time its close enough.
Devil Poem
I raise my knife to the devil’s neck
wanting to slit
its delicate structure
inhale
I do not look at his face, but it is reflected
in the blade
his cheekbones slitting my heart
exhale
Is this anger I feel
are answers to questions
really what i want
inhale
I can’t let go
but i can’t stab
i’m stuck
exhale
quivering voice,
steaming tears streaming,
he is seemingly unchanged
yet aware
sly little devil, I can’t breathe
wanting to slit
its delicate structure
inhale
I do not look at his face, but it is reflected
in the blade
his cheekbones slitting my heart
exhale
Is this anger I feel
are answers to questions
really what i want
inhale
I can’t let go
but i can’t stab
i’m stuck
exhale
quivering voice,
steaming tears streaming,
he is seemingly unchanged
yet aware
sly little devil, I can’t breathe
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