A zombie a priest walked into a bar,
which one left you more scarred?
I hide behind sleeves that can’t cover my guilt.
Gather the beauties
and garnish the opportunistic.
Hmm...a couple questions come to mind, apologies if you've already answered them or their ilk. First up, who are some of your favorite poets and/or writers? Similarly, what're some of your favorite poems and/or stories? Out of curiosity, where does your lens lie on the poet's "dilemma of distance" or the conflict between writing their personal voice/experiences and compromising the connection/comprehension of their readers? Also, any advice on how to post up poetry for sharing/critique?
Favorite writers: Ted Hughes, Nick Flynn, Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe. E.E. Cumming.
Favorite Poems/Stories: The Monkey’s Paw, Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, Ariel, Birthday Letters, most E. E. Cumming poems.
Dilemma of Distance: I think readers make a connection to a writer when they feel it necessary. Of couse, the writer needs to trigger a connection and make it either understandable or write well enough to have understanding. As much as I want to connect to a reader, I can’t give up myself away in my writing. I am trying to be honest to myself first and foremost. Poetry is unique — it is equal parts history and personal feelings/emotions. If you don’t understand someone’s history, you will not grasp their writing fully. I write from my own perspective and hope people can read me long enough to get my history. Mixing a knowledge of my history and the emotions behind the words will develop my words into their perosnal voice. I think writing is much like a relationship, it takes time with a writer to feel their words personally. You can indeed be stuck in a writer’s work, but, to feel it personally, I think it just takes time. Writing and reading is a compromise. It’s fine if you don’t fully understand or connect initially — just keep reading. Time will develop my voice into the readers.
Critique/Sharing: If you want to share your work make your own tumblr page. If you need some extra eyes on it, you can send it to me in a message. You should write a poem, let it sit, edit, let it sit, edit, then post it. I know I don’t do this on my blog, but it will provide you will the best tool for success. Share your words — it’s the best feeling to do so. Just be yourself and share at a coffee shop or on Tumblr. You voice is as valuable as mine, and as valuable as any other writer. It’s beautiful to think we are all equal in the sense that we are all provided with “one” voice to share — the best writers shared theirs, now it is your turn.
Live me over in the next life. I want to see what you can make.
You’ve changed the weather
like you possess the 5th element;
you blue blood, opera singer that
changed my sentiments.
Flying around Dallas,
let me be the first person to welcome myself,
now let’s get wreckless.
Sipping bottles so hard,
going after your dream,
a restful testament.
Loving a girl enough to kill for her,
her loving you back like oragami,
a half fold.
Feeling like I’m betting,
lost all my chips
on a girl making love to everyone,
such a communist.
Not the radical kind,
just the social type
that drinks on a Tuesday night
just to taste a lime’s bite.
So, I’m bitter,
yet that ain’t even a part of what I’ve seen.
I left a message on her phone,
I’m left with a blank screen.
Girls will be girls,
she made me her bitch,
I picked up the broom,
swept all my feelings
under the coach
and drowned myself in sorrow
while sitting watching a movie about
saving the world as a viable settlement,
what’s the name again,
right, the 5th Element.
I rolled and smoked the burning newspaper
just to get the high lights —
too current, too filthy, and too full of lies.
I watch the present turn to past,
turn to ash,
turn me into an ember
this week in December —
5 dead, 4 wakes, 3 pages left,
drowsiness to burn one.
Where do you get the inspiration for your poems? They're wonderful by the way
I get this question often. I’m influenced by the readings I do everyday. My mind kind of takes the regular way of saying something and alters it to be peculiar and inexact — I think this is my major, if only, specialization in my writing. I don’t think I am great; I think I am growing.