Tag Archives: poem

Read-along-Review: Howl by Allen Ginsburg

Part I

Punctuation is a thing for a reason Allen.

“illuminating all the motionless world of Time between”

“who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,”

“who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,”

This is poetry of the senses, plural specific. Your intellect is appealed to, as is your emotion, but as too are your senses, your very body – not just with the sights and sounds and feelings described but the way that they are written, the alliteration and deliberate word choice, the run on of sentences so perfectly sculpted around voice and tone and emotion, and breath. That’s the important bit, it forces your whole body to join in with the poem, not just your heart and mind.

“who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus”

I love the obsession with time, as I would anywhere else, is play with it though, particularly eccentric and graphic, is inspiring. Also, the personification of various concepts done expertly.

II

Metropolis is apparently created by Ginsberg as an inspiration for this section, inc. Meloch, a fantastic film and well worth a watch, even with breaks – it feels like eternity as it’s a silent b&w film.

Definitely nowhere near as good as Part I

III

 “where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses”

Footnote to Howl

Yeah, nope, none of the rest of this is as astoundingly brilliant as Part I

 

Ft. image a quick sketch I did inspired by this piece, I will return to it another day

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Fragment.wp #3

Ever feel like an outsider in your own skin,
Like everything around you has a way of crawling in,
And ripping from your flesh, pulling thread from bone,
Hollows out your heart, and builds itself a home?

Worry-Doll

Crystal glass terrarium,
soft, smooth, glide, prove.

Inside, a male & female pair,
Dolls with whom this glass cave I share.

Performing for them everyday, ironic,
Encouraging breaking, reaching out.

And on my knees, head bowed I pray,
Learning whatever lesson it is today.

Punching, punching hard, on glass walls.
Punching my way out, for them.

Breaking free like shadow out of sun,
Like sun out of clouds, rushing air out of glass.

Shock wave force from out my heart,
Shatters the smooth glass cage I’m in.

That air, once trapped, now free,
Out I go flying, singing, “Follow me.”

Out I go, like kite in air,
but no string to reel me back again.

There, they sit and stare. Achieved
what they said, not wanted.

Aim and aspiration as lines to stay inside,
As safe space, not pathway to another place.

Crumble inwards little pair, separate and fall.
No longer are those walls so safe,

Nor comforting to little minds, I’m sure.
Come fly, fly free, but do not follow me.

Never-ending little space fractured by the power,
that you nurtured (unknowing, unwanted) in me.

This was not what you expected, for me,
To rise to such heights as to finally be free,

And wanted, and strong, and, well, me.
But in you go, and in you stay,

So crumple, little worry-dolls,
And no more think of me.

 

Continue reading

Mezzanine

Warm hand upon my back,
As beneath my arms,
Upon which my head rests,
The emery board granite sits,
Sprayed, as I, by gusts of sea,
Mingled, lost, in the tears upon my face.

Pretty bird, small, hops on,
White painted panels,
Of a holiday shack,
By our promenade.
Light blue surrounds my bird;
Towels and flags, deck chair fabric.
Hopping little creature,
In a sea of its own.

Hide and seek played in,
Great woods of pine,
and bracken. Tall, and gone.
We never meant for it to end.
An endless time, joyful,
Spent together in love.

Crashing, cliche, but true,
Breakers crash on the wall.
Shore submerged, sinking,
and suffocated below.
Else the wind gusts, no respite,
Cold, but needed.

Held in but one hand,
I squeezed and squeezed,
Pressing nails into skin,
Leaving marks upon palm,
That would die off only hours later.
The bird died quicker.

Blue tit, great tit, wagtail,
I can’t decide.
Whichever one, it was not wise,
For now, I have nothing left,
But memories of those shifting sands,
And lies.

 

 

Continue reading

Love Letter (Unfinished, always)

I want to send you a love letter,

To say all the things I mean

When I send you everything else.

 

Each song I send you,

Each lyric a kiss,

Whether you listen or not.

 

Each scribble I make for you;

for me;

of you.

 

Each post I tag you in, each meme.

I say the things I cannot say out loud,

The things I can’t even think.

 

I miss you.

 

 

 

[Soundtrack: Coin-Operated Boy, The Dresden Dolls]