I get the feeling sometimes that a good many people perceive a man who writes poems as a pansy, tender, flimsy, and weak. I get the notion, but it's BS jock mentality. I have a punching bag in my basement that gets a routine pounding, and that leaves me usually feeling a whole lot better. It doesn't compare with writing a poem, though. Not even close. Writing a poem takes depth. It takes peeling back layers. Expose truths. It takes exploration. That's therapy. Punching a bag makes me sweat. Writing a poem makes me realize.
My plan is to publish a book a poem by summer's end. Whether that actually transpires, I don't know. I've been working on this thing, well, since I was 14. That's when I wrote my first one. Definitely not a masterpiece, but still something I covet dearly to this day. As bad as that poem was it opened up all kinds of doors and possibilities.
I'm not entirely sure why I love writing poems so much. I don't do it nearly as much as I used to or should, but no matter how much times passes between attempts, it puts me right back in a certain zone. If you've been in the zone, you know of what I speak. If not, I can't really explain it to you.
I firmly believe anyone can write a poem if he or she tries. I don't think everyone can do it with conviction, though. That takes spending time and more time and even more time, not something everyone has or wants to exhaust on words. Fair enough. It also takes be willing to go places that aren't comfortable or convenient or attractive. Poems for me, though, are good therapy. A chance to tell a story that I only I can tell. A way to go to places that only I see. A filter that I can pass my garbage through.
The funny thing about poems is that I don't particularly like to read them, at least not poetry written in the classical sense. It doesn't move me. It doesn't shake me. It doesn't transcend. I do love contemporary poetry. I do love poetry written from the street. From the gutter. From the depths. I love poems that are dark and sinister. That expose and tattle. I love poems that break bones. That kick in doors. I love poems that reek of dirt and that come from the dregs. I love poems that ooze failure and contempt. I think I tend to gravitate toward those emotions because they feel real. They have texture. They convey feeling closed in and trapped. You can feel the flames rising. I like poems, and any words for that matter, that break ground. That bury bodies. That grind and mash and beg and borrow. I love reality.
I'm pretty certain not many of my poems have ever reached those levels, but it's sure healthy trying to get there. You can save yourself a lot of grief and purge yourself of a lot of angst writing poems. At least I think I have. Most of my poems, though, seem to center around longing or yearning for something. A desire to be elsewhere or feel something other than what I currently am. Still, I'm capable of a good verbal attack once in a while, and when I want to be, I'm pretty proficient at penning a good revenge poem dripping with sarcasm and denouncements and contempt. Better to scrawl it out on paper than spew it out loud. Besides, I've found a good deal of what I write in the moment isn't what I really feel the rest of the time anyway.
I'm guessing I'll always write poems, and my pace will pick up when my last child gets older and I have more time to do so. I'm sure I'll make a fine cranky old man, and my poems will be flavored by such. I'm looking forward to it.
"Vogue"
Passing waiting-room minutes
My plan is to publish a book a poem by summer's end. Whether that actually transpires, I don't know. I've been working on this thing, well, since I was 14. That's when I wrote my first one. Definitely not a masterpiece, but still something I covet dearly to this day. As bad as that poem was it opened up all kinds of doors and possibilities.
I'm not entirely sure why I love writing poems so much. I don't do it nearly as much as I used to or should, but no matter how much times passes between attempts, it puts me right back in a certain zone. If you've been in the zone, you know of what I speak. If not, I can't really explain it to you.
I firmly believe anyone can write a poem if he or she tries. I don't think everyone can do it with conviction, though. That takes spending time and more time and even more time, not something everyone has or wants to exhaust on words. Fair enough. It also takes be willing to go places that aren't comfortable or convenient or attractive. Poems for me, though, are good therapy. A chance to tell a story that I only I can tell. A way to go to places that only I see. A filter that I can pass my garbage through.
The funny thing about poems is that I don't particularly like to read them, at least not poetry written in the classical sense. It doesn't move me. It doesn't shake me. It doesn't transcend. I do love contemporary poetry. I do love poetry written from the street. From the gutter. From the depths. I love poems that are dark and sinister. That expose and tattle. I love poems that break bones. That kick in doors. I love poems that reek of dirt and that come from the dregs. I love poems that ooze failure and contempt. I think I tend to gravitate toward those emotions because they feel real. They have texture. They convey feeling closed in and trapped. You can feel the flames rising. I like poems, and any words for that matter, that break ground. That bury bodies. That grind and mash and beg and borrow. I love reality.
I'm pretty certain not many of my poems have ever reached those levels, but it's sure healthy trying to get there. You can save yourself a lot of grief and purge yourself of a lot of angst writing poems. At least I think I have. Most of my poems, though, seem to center around longing or yearning for something. A desire to be elsewhere or feel something other than what I currently am. Still, I'm capable of a good verbal attack once in a while, and when I want to be, I'm pretty proficient at penning a good revenge poem dripping with sarcasm and denouncements and contempt. Better to scrawl it out on paper than spew it out loud. Besides, I've found a good deal of what I write in the moment isn't what I really feel the rest of the time anyway.
I'm guessing I'll always write poems, and my pace will pick up when my last child gets older and I have more time to do so. I'm sure I'll make a fine cranky old man, and my poems will be flavored by such. I'm looking forward to it.
"Vogue"
Passing waiting-room minutes
in the pages of Vogue,
I invest myself elsewhere,
waking in NYC,
owning Paris,
tainting London,
breaking souls in Rome--
anywhere escaped of Nebraska soil.
I’m stepping out,
smelling fine,
entirely dashing,
completely sublime.
I’m a poet haunted,
painter revered,
actor possessed,
songwriter gone gold.
I’m self-made,
self-aware,
self-contained,
self-assure.
My model accessory,
she's so skinny good,
fit to be tanned,
a sophisticated drunk,
a bedroom treasure.
My cigarettes burn sweet.
My liquor fuels favors.
My cocaine lights fires.
Another daybreak ignored.
My apartment bears witness,
pitches no black,
divulges no cracks,
entices the elite.
Only the elite.
Only the elite.
Only the elite.
Only in the pages of Vogue.
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