It’s difficult
not to miss
the vividness of the dahlias
and the soft dew underneath
the bare foot
in the magical patch
that comes alive
every morning.
It’s difficult
not to be lost
in the fairytales
from the spirit of my grandma
in her cloudy attire
and the starry sparkles
when she is too tired
to be there for me.
Wouldn’t say the same
about the monotonous humming
of the ceiling fan
and the paranoia
that follows the end of the universe
and your perennial existence.
But it’s difficult
not to miss
the dancing smoke
that erotically evolves
into the lady muse
in the middle of
lonely nights.
In a world
of artificial intelligence
and artificial flavors,
of artificial insemination
and artificial smiles,
it’s difficult
not to miss
artificial bliss.
Spinning into
a higher consciousness
where Neruda and Kubrick
swiftly start making
much more sense
it’s difficult
not to miss
contemplating over
the allegories of life
and metaphysics.
But moon-walking
in the esoteric realms
of surrealism
lady muse took
a curiously human shape
the other day
and it was much more difficult
to neglect her words
when she refused
to be made of smoke any longer
and promised to explore with me
the radiance of the universe
and its unreachable heights
without any of the usual
artificiality.
And that is exactly
what she did.
Author notes
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Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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I really find it hard to take any poet seriously that has the gaul to comment on my work while writing crap like this. I'm still laughing about your use of the word "dew" which in my opinion is like rhyming ass with gas.
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Of course it isn't an autocracy, Allpoetry, I never said it was. I said your writing was a shit taco -- However the real world of writing is an autocracy. And the old fucks that run that world of tactical assery? Would indeed call you an illiterate, but that's not saying much, they usually say that to everyone under the age of 30. I think you go beyond even that presumption, because you assume perhaps we all live in your magical world where unicorns cast spells from the warm morning dew, and blabbering on and on about personal events comes across like a reality show on the Oxygen channel. But we don't. We live in a world where every 10 minutes a woman or child is raped in South Africa alone. We live in a world where people think Jesus is going to arrive and wave a magical hand, and make everything make sense. So when I read your writing, I yawn, and yes, pass a little gas.
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Still can't figure out where did the unicorns and magic spells come from and still wondering in what sense you interpretated 'dew'.
This poem was about recovering from drug addiction; not some harry potter fantasy world. And I never said that it's good or it's a piece I am proud of. In fact I can critique my own poem better than anyone else can. Only that I'm too lazy to re-work it. -
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Of course you can. You're the only person alive that knows just what in the fuck you're carrying on about.\
Smoking pot, or a blowing a little coke, does not constitute an understanding of addiction. Try heroin day after day with a needle, and then stop, and see how that feels. That's a true junkies perspective. Not getting out of control with your mom's bottle of Oxies, and then whining when you can't make it to your cashier's job at the Mobile station. But let me guess... You were a crack head? Am I right. -
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Just give me one good reason why I should. Why must i waste my life merely to get a junkie's perspective into a goddamn poem that means nothing special to me? Or may be I should wait till 30 or till I have experienced most things in life before writing again....and once I do, I'll just go about calling anyone illiterate who'd be in the same phase that I'm in right now!
My comment in your poem was simply my opinion. I didn't even know who the poet was. It didn't work for me on a personal level and I said that. You cannot expect to cater to everyone's tastes even as good poet, can you? And if you try to, you'll just end up being a whore, not a poet. And I don't understand why on earth you're making it an ego issue. If I'm not worth your time, why on earth are you wasting it getting back at me? Do you really need my assurance to believe that you are a good poet?
And as far as poetry is concerned, I have never wanted to be a poet. I don't even dedicate more than a couple of hours a month to my poetry. I am a mechanical engineer and caught up with work more often than not. But then again, this not being an autocracy, I think I have the liberty of comment even on the works of those who take the art far more seriously. It's just a matter of personal choice.
And this is where the discussion ends. Thank you.
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One good reason? I could give you twenty. But here's number one: I, for one, am sick of bumping into idiots claiming to bear some knowledge or understanding of what it is they are talking about,
acting as if they even know what poetry is, let alone prose. Especially when they blatantly try to discuss things like "love" or "drugs", when they have the perspective of ten year olds stuck in a mall's candy store complaining about cavities. Point being, because better more interesting writers have taken drug use further then your pussy will let you, and better more engaged writers have discussed love from more immersed and authentic points then you are brave enough to tread, you disgust me. Shit, or get off the pot. That's all, carry on. Don't talk about shitting from the kitchen, and never do it, it's boring, and predictable.
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how about blowing out that 'gas' out of your 'ass'? May be that will make your ego a little less inflated, eh?
And since AP is no autocracy, I always held the opinion that one could always express their real views about a poem without a saccharine coating. The fact that you're doing the same with my poem doesn't bother me at all. We are all in an endless process of learning, aren't we?
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Well, I might suggest you ditch the first stanza. It just doesn't have the grip of the rest of it. After that first stanza you seem to hit the ground running and your poem because a great pleasure to read.
I, in particular, love the part about your grandma. But that might be a personal preference.
The only other suggestion I might have, would be to drop the last two lines. They spoil the beauty of the rest and I think this is definitely one of your better pieces. It's worth reading again.
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