 Friends         | [My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe, with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe. At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum. It's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.] [fat wanna be ugly girl hipster/wannabe/mister] - FF [drunken neckbag camwitch] - PC [you BOC gay fat lesbian wanna be hipster tranny lard-turd new ager, pagan] - B [pagan is looking for a hero but she will settle for a gyro] - Wiz [fuggin plagiaristic lemon titted sailor moon peewee ass bish] - Bish [pagan is dangerous, a killer and druggie]-sm [ hah....bish the mighty chatroom superwench] - Bish [pagan is a passive psychopath] - IW [nothing poetic about you. you're hard edged and brutish and frankly strange. strange bird. oddity. pink goo] - WJD [You won't be fully functional so you'll be able to maintain your job at the hotdog stand. But you'll never exceed it.] - Taco [I was going to send pagan a computer but I didn't because I knew it would make her feel all weird and obligated to drive in a diaper to do stuff to me]- WoO [my fav drunk with a thigh gap] -MyMomSaysImACatch [Pagan is a pyramid of men taking turns pressing enter] - Stir [ pagan is fifteen guys in a computer lab. There's like 6 pregnant cats between them.] - Stir [Nobody's ever been able to squeeze the lemon that is pagan to answer the pagan question. She obfuscates.] -Stir  Stiritup: Whatever is behind you on the wall makes it look like your haircut uncovered your giant elf ear.  paganpoetry: took a chance on . . . a translated Das Stundenbuch (THE BOOK OF HOURS) from Austrian poet Ranier Maria Rilke [ ICH LEBE MEIN LEBEN IN WACHSENDEN RINGEN (1903) ]  View all 9 posts Stiritup: This reminds me of a Futurama episode where the What If machine shows a simulation where Leela buys new boots with a green stripe on them and starts killing everyone. (Post deleted by staff ) |
✨ ✨ ✨ once again it's... NaTioNaL pOeTrY mOnTh ! ✨ ✨ ✨
I once hated poetry. When first instructed to read and interpret a poem, I annoyingly felt "this is nonsense. it's trash. how do I extract meaning from trash?" Unawares, I was bitten, the poison spread at a snail's pace. And like that snail pace [I would never have imagined the slow passion to that deliberate progress.] At times, I was a poetry surgeon, dissecting each engaging word or phrase [like a patient etherized upon a table] (occasionally spiraling on words or phrases that struck me instinctively or deeply.) Other times, I consume or absorb it whole, like one big input-output mechanism. Like a river, you'll never be in the same waters twice, never read a poem the same way. At this point, to me there is no poem anymore, it's ..... [the mist, that is, the mist becomes central to your existence.]
[Let Me Tell You What a Poem Brings by Juan Felipe Herrera]..... the mist
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