goddamnit.

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Kerouac
I was wondering if any of you read 'Bowery Blues' and 'Skid Row Wine'?
From which book is the two from?
Im doing a report next friday and I really appreciate it if any of you guys can help me out?

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look!!!one i can do poetry too!!!1
One day, after many long hours of eating my own arm, I then proceeded to take a shit on a rainbow. The rainbow did not like it, but I shit on it anyway, and it then decided it liked me. After we fucked, the rainbow became pregnant and had a half human, half rainbow offspring which I named Shitface part seven. Then I died.

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i ran over a cat and called it poetry. i also shat myself and called it poetry. then i went and talked to a bunch of retards and called it poetry.

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once
damp room
the trainee with
the radiant smile and
the restrictive ignorance
of eager youth. (the dollhouse
could have been mine.)
the museum steps,
my own small feet
the trains behind
glass containers;
press the button,
a large chinese spider
displayed, motion-
less, poignant in
hopeless lacklustre.
knife-cuts in ears
ready sunsets behind
the moving chains,
profanity of an angry
european teen.
meaningless retorts
we were ignorant
we were children
then. a cover of night
pass by the pub and
a stranger with a bottle
tapping on the windshield--
base violence.
saucer eyes and
looking back, he
follows drunken.
eggs and cards;
a handmade mummy
precious gems.
a spit of racial hate
from the gray-head's
grownup lips on
a brown child's face
(she was six, she was
six,) what is race,
what is hate?
the grace of the
violin in a young boy's
hands. he repeats:
tutor me! a kiss on my
cheek. the line of feet
perhaps nine or ten,
in the cold open:
smug grins, crossed arms
vicky shrugs; she'd always
been polite.
a grinning whisper,
a fast resentful slur,
that 80's class
of handicraft. the niceties
of doll-making. candy-
giving without demands.
trolls with
colorful hair. chocolate
balls in white-paper bags.
lollipop sticks, new
trends, more reprimands.
spiraling stone stairs
a used church
false police calls
steep iron rungs
an adventure gone
sour.
fourth grade
ends and the plane
ascends.

Current Mood: resigned

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elect june grooms
say good morning to our second chapbook, elect june grooms by erika howsare.



more information at horse less press:
http://www.horselesspress.com/chapbooks.html

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Some poetry, oddly.
( On the Cathedral Pines Day-TripCollapse )

~~~

( LegendCollapse )

~~~

( The ClocksCollapse )

Current Mood: artistic

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help please !
i need some help with this screen play i'm writing. i want there to be different 20 year olds telling an obscene story about highschool days. so if you dont mind, tell me something you remember that sticks out that parents would freak out about. tell them something about generation x that will be shockworthy and truthful. it can be vulgar, nasty, sex related, non sex related. something you maybe saw or heard about. doesnt necessarily have to be something that happened to you.

thank you

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*waves anxiously*
Hallo, I'm new. Enclosed below is poetry, not in my usual style, but in my usual words. Evidentally I'd been reading The Oxford Book of Story Poems too many times.

( The Tragedy of the Young ComposerCollapse )

~~~

( MermaidsCollapse )

Current Mood: hopeful

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mundane reflection
rise of the tireless sun
eyelids eased, curtains stutter.
rays giggle
on the tattered comforter.
she kept her sigh inside
for today was worth a thousand miles.
bites in her weak knees
the creak of a green-rust gate
but
every morning the
jasmine blooms
with the sound of the hens
the scent of hay and
semi-clear water
slow lingers of
liquid fingers
reaching
(for what?)
sinking
a quiet failure.
eyelids close, eyelids close
and in the brightening sun
she could have dosed
but feet run around the
ancient carpet of crimson-brown.
clinks and clanks of kitchen spoons
warm scents of
beans and eggs
fried and laid
it could have been a daisy chain
the way they sat, the way they ate
and her laughter makes her nose vibrate
her grin sincere
her eyes alight.
tradition of rows of black
on white-grey paper, cheap and cramped
"grandpapa, what's happened today?"
"oh, murder, and invasion, and ignorance again!"
averted eyes
resignation of
human nature
it's been one game
of various names
she saves that sigh
for the upcoming Day.

Current Mood: good

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horse less press
Hi y'all.

I just found this community because of your listed interest in Gertrude Stein.

I'd like to plug my latest project, horse less press, the smallest small press in Rhode Island. In addition to publishing chapbooks & an online literary review, we host all kinds of fun word recreation. Come on over and use words well!

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white-brown squares
white-brown squares

twelve or maybe ten
children sitting in the trunk
of a pickup with no wheels.
ivy descending the walls like
a reptile. flowers in full
blossom, vivid like poison.
children walk by the base-
ment windows, squinting down
at the broken washing machine,
sofas, boxes, empty silence.
we walk into the new house;
posters of birds, tropical,
on the walls. a group of
women sitting in a circle
drinking tea and eating
bread and beans. here is
the scent of stillness, the
scent of years gone by.
the scent of a lifetime that
i doubt is mine.

Current Mood: complacent

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Please post a book recommendation for me to read this summer. It can be your favorite book, or just a good summer read. I want to compile a list for when I'm peopleless and in need of good companionship.

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film cuts, blood drips (poem)
bitten nails
footsteps of
unknown origin.
transparent skin
soft bones.
glinting powder
of avalanches and
ozone.

giggling green
from black holes.
lurching, that
slithering on the
flower-patterned bed.
hopeless inverse
rising dread.

mama putting out
flour and butter
sugar spread and
toasted. no one there
after-hours stampede and
the girls are snorting
yellow bus rust, slight
fluorescence under the
microwave sun
holding up
brown hands above
squinting faces.

th-rump goes her
young quicksilver
heart. long
black-clad legs and
a cruel smile.

now the frame-glass
breaks and her throat
melts. blue dress frills
waves in bed-laid meadows
rows are d-desperate.

dhi-gee the door moans
in a classical lament
for capricious ribons.

Current Mood: relieved

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'ello, 'ello!
umumum. i started this community under another name, and this is my poetry journal...so i figure i'd join under this. uh...and yeah. if you want to read my poetry, just add this name. it's friends only, so i'll have to add you back...comment here if you want me to.
anyway...lesse...for those of you who don't read it and whatever...i'll be posting a few of the poems from my lj here...and i want honest opinions. brutal honesty is always a good thing in my book. so.

( a little poetry?Collapse )

Current Mood: drained

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sigh, dry, why
sigh

i'm already
here.

"good morn-
ing, how are
you?"

(my eyes
hurt.)

palm vines and
flashy tights.
high heels in
abandoned parks.

(flip the d to b.)

tricycles and
fireworks.
wheelbarrows and
chicken feathers.

(scent of goats and
lost mewls.)

cheap, bright
distant lights.
now the white moth--
crumpled and dry.

Current Mood: apathetic

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Another poem I wrote tonight
When I looked at yesterday as I gazed into that mirror today
Regrets stared back at me – cruel corpses of memories inerasable
My eyes closed as salty tears slid down my fair, soft flesh

Current Mood: thoughtful

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quirked lips
so my mother
apologizes
and the older daughter
well, she improvises.
the red, purple sky
it streaks with
crow wings
ding-a-la-ding
goes that ancient tele-
phone with those giggling
youngsters. new ringtones.

Current Mood: discontent

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paper.wings
here is the picture that inspired the poem: http://www.deviantart.com/view/5368602/

so i drew myself
a pair of paper wings
and glued them to my back
i thought real hard
wished with all my might
and soon enough
i took flight
i flew far from my town
where i never belonged
and soared to the tops of the clouds
i rolled in thier silky riches
til my skin glowed with the rain
and my eyes held the lightning
and my sighs were the thunder.

Current Mood: stupid thoughts

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