Antipoetry

Antipoetry

The Body Knows,

Worms do too and I've got plenty of them

I blame them for my poor decisions 

In swarms the fat, I'm purple 

The brainy bits stick to the broom bristles

I walked with you outside of Brussels

And we tore into the waffles

In swarms the sugar

Ive gained weight, lost time and grown tired

Read to deep into the lives of fleas

And loves of lice

And appeptites of mice 

Wore my eyes by

Measuring the length of rice

And of course I get judged 

By my past lives 

If I don't get the job the worms get my arms 

And I need them to write

Ive done everything thats left to do before 

And I know that it’s not normal to be such a bore

When I get older I'll fill cocktails with 3:1 raitos

Of sour grapes and sweet comeuppance 

The mirror on the door, smudged and

I watched you give me head

And no im not living in the past, I’m a visitor 

Running on in, checking in, like in The Swimmer 

You are my River and I am your Alligator 

Form the phallanx 

Besige, the constellation is phalic 

And the stars are phasing out of orbit 

I got caught licking envelopes for fun 

And what if I wont ever be this clever again?

Zach, take your moon, it never came back 

And I have no idea how to end this one

Maybe ill just circle back around 

Like the theories of infinity 

The informal meetings in restrooms 

                              (To Audience)

I promise to keep ourselves against the change

Imposed on us by time and by the natural 

Change of preference and attraction

Aside finished, I'm adressing you 

There's nothing more I can do

Except ramble until I feel better

My tongue, a scrawl, dragging along 

The star trails as the universe moves

And shoos our time out the door 

I was looking for dirt on the blanket 

Just as closely as you were looking for 

The alignment of planets

We can watch the sky but I want your

Pants to stay clean; everything is all for you

My Grandfather's dory and the London Zoo;

I slept in beds without head boards

And my dreams were not contained 

Or stopped,

They projected on the wall and went through

The gyprock, 

They went around the planet

Pollination in the simplest 

I had that dream at your house 

Where I dreamt about the weed

And I was terrified 

Things go in circles 

Like seasons and Nascar

Trainsets and satellites 

And stars tethered to ships

Of future civilizations

To warm things up a bit

And mittens wrapped 

Around my hands

The smoke you blew was a perfect circle 

And I watched frightened rabbits run in it 

What im getting at is the cyclical nature of people

Being done then missing the work

Being bored then excited then bored 

Its the easiest pattern to spot,

A constant rerun,  

Completed when you wake up

And sleep and wake up

 

Reviews

[Hailey Juliet]

I slept in beds without head boards
And my dreams were not contained
Or stopped,
They projected on the wall and went through
The gyprock,
They went around the planet
Pollination in the simplest

I really loved these lines and the imagery they portrayed. I had such a vivid vision of this scene in my mind as I read through these lines and they really brought me up out of reality for a moment, envisioning something ethereal, as though a headboard is the only thing stopping dreams from overwhelming reality.

I loved the rest of the poem as well as it was filled with little tidbits to latch on to and absorb and experience, if only for a moment. The conclusion of the piece echoed something I'd been thinking about alot lately:

What im getting at is the cyclical nature of people
Being done then missing the work

The idea that the "getting there" is perhaps the best part of any endeavour. I've found often that goal setting and being completely goal oriented can really suck the joy and beauty out of life in a way that has you looking backwards wondering why you never payed attention to the tiniest details along the way.

I liked how you took it a step further and made it meta, reflecting upon self and inspiration. At least that's the way I saw it. I find art, especially poetry, to be such a fickle thing at times. For me anyway, it comes in waves, inspiration and drought, cyclically just as you described.

I suppose a goal oriented soul would long to pin down an answer as to why the muse comes and goes and why sometimes I have things to say and sometimes I don't. But maybe it's best not to know why, and embrace our elusive muse, and find satisfaction in the chase rather than in the catch.

This is my problem with happiness, it seems everyone is always searching for it as though it's more valuable than every other emotion. If all we could feel in life was happiness and all of our other emotions were replaced with emotional nothingness, our lives would be devoid of colour and meaning. I say screw the happiness, if it comes it comes and if it doesn't, then I'll make friends with my anger instead.

Thanks for sharing this work, it's a great piece and it's a rabbit hole I'm happy to dive into headlong.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a word-man. The poetry use of words. Solid and strong. The pace easy and each lines added to the reader visions and thoughts. A wonderful read and journey in the words my friend. Thank you Cole for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Ana B.]

Splendid write. Left my thoughts halting on several occasions. Was listening Rachmaninoff's Piano concerto no2 and it went along with your words, making then otherworldly. Breathtaking.