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Its the same old static & flaccid striptease. (Free verse) by SupremeDreamer Displaced, devoid of desire
I take in morning, reminded of whores
who tease by lifting their skirts.
An urge to write is followed
with the urge to avoid writing utensils,
the front door, and opening my encrusted eye lids.
Aside from things mundane,
thirst and nicotine cravings motivate me
if only for a short while...
I've resigned myself to observing things,
absolutely stupid things really. Human activity
apparently happens to be 80% spastic idiocy;
the remaining 20% of activity includes eating, pissing,
shitting and attempting to fuck anything with a camels toe.
Reefer offers me the ability not to notice,
since the pointless urge to reveal to others
their retardation is best left alone;
most get defensive anyway, or offended
which leaves me wanting to smash their faces
into a work of gothic obsession.
Switched into neutral, I let the night creep
and eventually engulf everything; a bored slut
slowly letting her skirt float back down.
Life to me is a perpetual striptease-
the excitement long dead, flesh and beauty
faded into subtlety.
Up the ladder:
Luv of Honey
Down the ladder:
surgical spite
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.0
Posted: April 27, 2004 10:16 AM PDT; Last modified: April 27, 2004 1:54 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.0 Overall Rank: 7980 Comments:
Yes, oblivion becomes me is awful, but there are some good parts, especially your tendency toward internal rhyme.
I stick internal rhyme in my writing without even thinking about it anymore.. guess its one of the good side effects of writing a whole lot. Can I ask you something? does the piece come off as really misogynist? Does the weed bother you? Think I should instead replace the cannabis with Prozac?
I think you should replace it with the craziest, naughtiest cocktail of as many drugs as you can. Then you would be the coolest poete around.
Perhaps you would like a prescription for my naughty 'n looney dope filled cocktail? It helps loosen stool and promotes healthy bowel movement, it also causes one to expel excess gas with ease!
It's not anti-women, it's anti-life, depressing. What's to write about if flesh and beauty are
faded into subtlety - depression? I wish you could make what we do more appealing. Still not badly written.
My pen is but a slave at times to my mood, so forgive me. Flesh and beauty fading into subtlety is inenvitable; we grow old, become unsightly- with enough age, most won't notice me, you, your children, etc.. then comes death. That is what life leads to into order to end; beauty is in the eye of the beholder- like my father used to say:
"All these wrinkles, my young & foolish son, are marks of strong character and amazing handsomeness." heh.. And besides, I've always believed that poetry incorporates everything; good, bad, beautiful, ugly, happy, depressing, controversal, etc, etc, No? And I wouldn't say my piece is anti-life.. it inspired you to think of good things around us no? Plus some folks would consider a perpetual striptease to be the ultimate heaven. :) Everything has more than just one face.
You're right, of course, I was relating my first impression which seemed depressing.
I'm right? wonderful! lets celebrate with champaign and coffee with whisky!
You have the aura of election upon you.
Shut up you fool, can't you see that I'm trying to enslave the fucking planet??
I think it is good, except for the fact that you do not degrade women enough. How bout a dose of misogyny tossed in for good measure, and maybe snuffle up some rails in there somewhere?
Degrading women wasn't my goal or over-all intention with this piece, so injecting more misogynism would morph the poem from
"apathetic view on day to day life & being irritated with the mostly insipid nature of basic human activity" into: "women are just dirty cock teasers and greedy, jealous, power-hungry imperialists sucking the life out of men and other women, etc, etc." To sum this up, I'm just not really interested in degrading or bashing women and going gung-ho anti-feminism or something- its not a question of being PC either, I'm just content not over-generalizing women; they come in many colors, ugly and pretty, like everything else. Plus anyway, that sort of thing has been done a billion ways from sunday in an array of cultural overtones- its boring, and too fucking easy, but if thats what tickles your toes, then perhaps you should take a go at it. 363 view(s)
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Some decent parts I think. The urge to write bit, the fades into subtelty, the spastic idiocy.
Don't like the misogynism, and you know the response talking about pot gets you.
As for misogynism, where exactly in the poem do I attack women in general? its just my way of comparing teasing strippers to the rise & setting of the sun- its the sort of thing that pops up in my mind.. I didn't intend to attack women in general at all. Plus the poem is me comparing life to a striptease.. I don't think theres any way to avoid being offensive twards women in this piece, but if you have some amazing way to make everyone happy, please show me.. but frankly, thats impossible- its also not a goal listed in my agendum.
As for the pot? I don't care about the response that gets me.. maybe I should mention valium or extra strength xanax? cmon now.
Also this thing you have with drugs. How about more wit.
'the railman gave me two cures/ said step right in/ one was texas medicine/ the other railroad gin/ like a fool I mixed them/ it scrambled up my mind/ now people just seem uglier and/ I have no sense of time' Bob Dylan - Stuck inside of mobile.
One of my favourites.
-shrug-
I'm not without wit, drugs are simply a casual presence in my life- should I start pretending that I'm a sober drug free citizen or what? Its not as if the entire poem was about cannabis for godsakes. Would you even give a shit if for instance my substance(s) of choice were only alcohol and tobacco? Hell, atleast I'm not Coleridge puffin opium and writing about Xanandu and a thousand other opium visions, or a drunken Dylan Thomas wieldin a pen while he attempts to correct his vision blurs. Don't forget the English Gentleman who adored his dose of heroin. (curses, I can't remember his name...)
I'm tired of people acting as if each and everyone of my poems are just about drugs and doped up ranting.. yes, I have those too, but they don't constitute my entire collection of written work. But they seem to be the only things that people remember, since those pieces are quite bizzare.. can't a guy have a little fun with the pen? Honestly.