Giant Steps.

Uhm, so yeah. I just found a bunch of my writing from my creative writing class. (rofl). In retrospect, it was an amazing class, becuase it taught me about techniques and such. Also because it made me not be lazy, and organize all my stuff. So yes, this will be a big, long, boring post, but enjoy it. I really like a couple of these pieces, and I hope you do too.



Nassau County

I shaved today, and decided to slit my throat. Unbeknownst to me I had nothing left to give, I sat and stared, i sucked wind, and blew sweet kisses. Iin the distance, I beheld a figure, majestic, grand, pure, and unadulterated good, the aborigines to my sides spoke in hushed tones. His name was Bryan Kreis, and to the multitudes he brought salvation. approaching me now, my heart beat faster, and as he began to speak my heart stared to crumble, but he looked and...

complimented me on my fucking beard.

Westerlies

I want to fuck a stupid New Jersey hooker and then bathe myself in her various cosmetic nuiances,
I want to immerse myself in a subculture of complete idiocy,
I want to feast on the misfortune of others, I desire to dine at the table of suffering,
and laugh at the ignorant,
blindly fellating hollow ideas and values.
Tonight, I'll suffocate myself slowly and bury myself under pretentious reasoning.

This next piece is an actual structured poem. It's a pantoum, and although it may not be the best, Im very proud of me actually being able to complete one. I hate structure, and attempting to structure poems. (im a bad poet in the traditional sense, lawl)

Untitled Pantoum

She breathes, she walks, she does everything air tight,
The way she moves, makes me forget about her flaws, if only for a bit.
I don't need the chance, I dont have the time, I don't need your burden
You'd package my failure and sell it for profit.

The way she moves, makes me forget about her flaws, if only for a bit.
I see through, I spend time lying, I defend myself from you.
You'd package my failure and sell it for profit.
No friends care, no one comes to my aid, all she does is imbrue.

I dont need the chance, I dont have the time, I dont need your burden
She breathes, she walks, she does everything air tight.

Ahoy! The Gilfs!

Oh shit, this again?
Same thing, different day
I know what shes asking,
She does it, I hate it, Deny it so,
What the hell, my mind races, sweaty
Sweaty palms, her eyes wander, drift
And come back again, I can't keep
Doing it, but it happens, What do I do?
She's a girl, I know, she's different, it's true.
A vision in antiquity, weathered and learned
What the hell? I do it, maybe get pleased
Don't do it, and I'm happy, but she aint
I can't, she can't, she won't let me live it down.
She asks with a smile
I answer with a frown
To answer without akwardness is futile
For, to others this is a no brainer
But to me I can't, just can't start to do it,
She's nice, true, she's attractive maybe,
But to tell you the truth,
I can't do it, I just can't
Bring myself to kiss,
My best friends mom.

That was an internal dialogue piece, that I threw together 2 mintues before it was due. The next is an early attempt by me, to create a rhyming poem.

Perishable

She left at about a quarter past noon,
Disguised as an errand, an effort to start anew
To her parents it wasn't much too soon
Expected, unexpected was what she yearned to do

Moved to a town, where the liquor flowed like water
Met drifters in bars, and found hope in thier gaze
Unknowingly, her trust is what led to her slaughter
He rhope for a better future devoured by a blaze

The news ran a bulletin, the media ate it up
A delicate body, found maimed, disembowled and tore
Mutiliation abound, her blood filling the news' cup
Front page headlines championing the cops, the case shut like a door.

It's a shame when this is what I write about
A shame that I write and describe so
A way to get my vivid imagination out
Im glad I don't write what I know.



The next poem, was supposed to to be an open poem. I had nothing else to write about, so i decided to write about my dad. (ps, he likes to drink.) I like it, but i feel it seems too... hawthorne heights-y, too angsty. But i like it, so enjoy.

Cruz Azul

Co-sign, Un sign, Resign this,
Pushing, pulling, demanding the world
Wordsgetjumbledup,yourmeaning can'tbeclear
You promise the best, but deliver the least.
A stoic face, drunken, and ignoble, dishonorable hands
Tied together from the start, to end, to the near begin of every
Thing, you've ever tried to do, just continues on, in a circle for
This is how you've given me the best in run on sentences punctuated
By the smell of hard liquor, sod, and sweat, the green of your shirt bleeds
into your skin, a metamorphasis, your words rise
and fall, like the promises you make
the actions you leave, the course
you take, I've never known
you to be truthful, or sober
I ask for the least
I expect this
father



Wow, really ffing long post. I think that satisfies Sundays and Mondays quota. Im going fishing folks.