(writing recently)

I was holding grace blasters to my temples in a pool house
and there were sixteen naked gymnasts
and there were hunting knives brushing my testicles
hands bound like a bonzai kitten
in a jar
behind my brain there was pornography clockwork
telling me
“man, you’d enjoy this so much if they werent about to chop off your dick and kill you”
flashback to rollerderby chat with ‘pussyrocker sally’ at the Rose Quarter bar
her nickname was magic like, yeah, if i had a vagina i would love for you to rock it,
yo' biceps like italian marble
yo' missin at least three teeth
tatoos of coy fish coy grin coy skin grabbed her bra on a whim
summoned up my motorcycle with my last devil genie wish
but i dont ride much anymore
so i walked her stumbling in her own back fat drunk self-consciousness
slapped her a couple of times like a mule to keep her walking
knew in the morning she wouldnt remember this
first kiss heavy male fists tie and lash her up the steps to my apartment
where my gerbil is unconcerned that i dont give him his
yogurt treat and i looked at him nibbling at the metal bars
tied sally to the bathroom lamp
too scared to break the lightbulb

so i break the little moon replica myself
and after a while she passes out
and after a while i pass out
and after a while gerbil breaks out
runs down the block to the cops
but the cops dont speak gerbil
so he goes down to the community college into the dungeon
where they roll bones on shackles
sorority girls bleeding monthly for their steaming sack of liberal art diploma
and one was throwing lunch back down the pipeline
and after she flushed upchucked contents and checked them for pieces of iron lung
she listened
to gerbil flash feelers in the hurricane lamp light of her dorm room
and she stood on the pledge house steps
“girls, monster mayhem attack mode delta phi
kappa kappa alpha die man module beta
killtha sunnabitch”
and they left like minutemen shadows warpaint
mud made for sexy wrasslin
its still real to me dammit
when they lifted me on the board strapped appendages
wrapped sally in mummy bandages
sang accapella
“man we’ll live again
all of us get eight more
except for youz men
youz just a dog and youz only get one”
Last edited by #1 synth at Oct 4, 2011,
well, its like fun, and maybe even poignant, and makes decent performance pieces, buts its far from pretty poetry. thanks for the positive responses guys

Last edited by #1 synth at Oct 4, 2011,
i just got mind raped by this....I love you for writing this....

Keep it up....jeeezus...that is good...
I haz gotten gud
sometimes you gotta go gimmicky and all out stupid to lull the crowd into a false sense of security so you can strike with poetry that actually matters. this is the opening piece to my upcoming spoken word set so i have to start it off unconventionally light in order to grab some peoples attention who wont grasp onto something heavy right out of the gate.

this is a comedy preformance piece to use in a venue of mostly young college student feminists. its my way of preempting the inevitable way most of my poetry can turn a lot of people away unless they are already with me for the ride.

but, i totally agree with you.

Yeah, I'm not saying it's awful, I'm just saying...You know.

But you're idea is a decent idea, I mean starting off with something like this to grab attention. Though it may have an opposite effect and deter those from listening who want to hear good, solid poetry, which is the kind of poetry that you write.

Good luck my friend.
I'm with Rushy. If this was the first thing you read to me... I'd head to the bar until you were done.

It read like you whacked a 9 year old with a shovel and wrote down all the words he said for the next 5 minutes and then just filled in the gaps. You better really jam it, or people like me (read: bastards) will think, "great... another ****ing modernist poet piece of shit who thinks he's a wordsmith Jackson Pollock" and will close out, even if the rest of your shit is good.
rule one: know your audience. if this was written for the 10% of my particular audience that are even old enough to legally drink it would be a different game entirely. rule two: offer up serious poetry only to those who are in the mood to take you seriously. sometimes its just not worth your time trying to break through walls and sometimes its better to just quote some kesha in a monotone to get a laugh. and sometimes its better to get kids to lower their guard through their own laughter. If your point as a poet is communication process is possibly more important than substance.

which is not to say that this piece does any of this well at all. I'm just throwing stuff out there to see if it sticks. after fifty of these and a hundred performances maybe I'll have a better idea of how to rile up a crowd while also pleasing the literary critics in the audience.

thank you guys for your honesty. anything you all want me to look at?