Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Yell at me to edit!

I'm not editing! Finally, a day with no homework, and it's 6:15 and I have not even touched my editing file! GAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
On the bright side, voting has ended for the Probability of Miracles contest and Gray Girl is in fifth place! I just scraped into the Chance to Win section, something that has NEVER happened before! Woohoo!

Anywho. I ought to post poetry (I gots a laptop now, a loaner but whatevs) so let me just randomly select something from my collection. Let me select two, because I know one will suck.

OK, first one: something I wrote last year while riding in the car at night and being all, "Ech, I don't want to edit [do you think this is just a recent thing, readers? IT'S NOT] so I'll write poetry about, like, my surroundings."
I told you the first one would suck.

Highway




O, twisting labyrinth of the night
Black tar spider-thread spinning back and forth
Marbles rushing in the bowl, crashing pebbles upon sight
Once the maze is entered, exit will not be so short
O, pitch dark sky with not a single star
As I disappear under road smothered by road
And the red burning flames of the headlights of a car
Are the eyes of the devil in its abode.
O, who would choose this place as home?
This unforgiving traveler’s land
Trees crushed by molten chrome
Far away from God’s loving hand
Yet beauty lurks in this hellish place
For as engines simultaneously run
The highway of the night warms to your embrace
With a sharp intake of breath before the sun.
The road is not so wrong
As you fall into its folds
The hum of wheels becomes a song
And the night stops being cold.
O, find a place to stay
And to rest your tired eyes
As the night turns into day
And the sun begins to rise.

Yes. Cars are not made of chrome. I know this. It's a life of struggle, being a poet.

On to poem two... OK, I'm not doing the first thing that showed up because I want to post it some other time... Fine, how about 'Vanitas', I'll never have some other occasion to post that anyway.

Vanitas

Shiny red lipsticks lined against the wall
Glimmering mascara containers
Eyebrow pencils and foundation
Eyeshadow, and a scattering of lip glosses
The hair straightener leans against
A pink-and-purple box of combs
Shampoo, conditioner, spray, gel
And the mirror in the center of it all
Beads and pearls spill out of the spangled
Jewelry box, and gold bangle bracelets
Sparkle in the incandescent light
(Meant to flatter my features)
Perfumes of all scents stand like knights
Guarding the entrance to my dresser
But hidden amongst it all is the broken clock
As a reminder that like life,
This beauty will not last forever.

Totally cool if you skipped, like, half that poem. Just read the last three lines. P.S. You just learned about an aspect of Dutch Baroque art. CALLED VANITAS.
Ugh, it's 6:23 and I haven't edited a mite. And tomorrow I have to work for two hours at the library (what, did you expect me to have an unwriterly job? BLASPHEMY!) and then I probably have a lab report and a super long chapter in chemistry and probably some stupid Algebra 2 problems and feeling guilty about doing a sucky job in the Andrew Jackson trial in US History and AARRRRGGGHHH, I MUST EDIT NOW.

I'm still listening to 'Caresse sur l'ocean'.
My sister's here. Somehow, this is her fault.
OK, if I come back for any reason and I haven't edited, IT IS YOUR TIME TO RISE UP, HIDDEN TROLLS OF THE INTERNET, AND BLUDGEON ME.
Coolio.
Bye.
For real now.



Bye.


magic*esi



Highway
A metaphoric poem comparing driving on a highway at night to life
“O, find a place to stay
And to rest your tired eyes
As the night turns into day
And the sun begins to rise.”
February 2011

Vanitas
A poem about the frailty of life, described in makeup. (Allusion to Dutch vanitas paintings).
“But hidden amongst it all is the broken clock
As a reminder that like life,
This beauty will not last forever.”
April 2011

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