An Archetypal Editorial

This is about as close to boy-influenced poetry as I get

There’s something about you that

makes me want to write

        bad poetry

and half-assed short stories.  

Something about you that

makes me want to take all my

unspoken words and turn them

into something beautiful,

something worthwhile.

You make me want to be an artist

like Van Gogh or Sylvia Plath;

you make me want to create.

Maybe it’s that blue wave

that crashes down like

an incoming tide on the beach--

        your eyes

when you look at me in

a certain way, in

a certain light.

Or maybe it’s

the way that you say

my name and then say all

those horrible things that make

me want to rip something

        open.

Those words that rip me open.

You make beautiful stanzas get stuck in my

head like lyrics to a bad pop song;

I can’t erase them and the

only way I can think of to cope with it

is to write them down like a schoolgirl

with a well worn diary.

I think I might as well have hypergraphia.

I am an unprofessional

medical doctor with

a pen, paper, and

Word Document

suffering from a form of

verbal vomit because I

can’t possibly think of a way to

        speak my mind.

I think I would make a very good mute.

I wish I lacked a voice box

because then I wouldn’t have to

be the one that has to

say all the right, comforting things

at the all the right times

and all the right places.

Sometimes it feels as if I’m

being eaten from the inside out

by some sort of paratrophic organism

that sits atop my frontal lobe and

dictates my life and fluctuates my

anxiety and I can’t even think about

some things anymore because of this

nervous clench I get in my gut when

I let my thoughts get too jumbled.

But you--you make me want to write

the most heartfelt and sappy sentences

and you make me want to

be more than just ordinary.

You make me want to be extraordinary.  

I guess that what I’m writing is

an apology in the shape of

a few stanzas and a few metaphors.

And this is an “I forgive you” for that night

that we spent outside your house

arguing over the stupidest of things,

so stupid that I can hardly

remember a single word I said to you.

Nothing gratifying is ever

painless to obtain

and I want to be a fighter like

Hercules or Alexander the Great.

I want to be extraordinary with you.

Author's Note

I like constructive criticism.

Reviews

[Abelard]

I realise it's from last year, so I hope it's not too late for a comment. Whatever the case, here it goes: I really like the idea but it lacks rhythm in the lines. This can be achieved in numerous ways, repetition, shifting position of the words, stressed, unstressed syllable pattern. The best way is just experimentation and practice.
I read your other poems as well, and I feel it always lacks some rhythm in them. On the other side I found the ideas absorbing.

[Taylor St. Onge]

I never rhyme in my poetry. While I am glad that you think them to be interesting, my poetry will never rhyme. To me, it seems a bit juvenile and sort of annoying. I prefer free flowing poetry, to be honest.

[Abelard]

I was not talking about rhyme but about rhythm (the typical refrain from songs for example). Rhyme is irrelevant and changes with time due to evolving pronunciation, so I do understand that you prefer the free flowing poetry. Rhyme is just one of the ways one can achieve rhythm.

[Glen Yumang Manese]

Seems a fast pace narrative of a write...unorthodox feel as I read the whole nature of this verse...a plea of sort to a person is present in the lines...an influential type...by the way this goes and ends...letting them know what's truly on your mind...