Thread: Why I Write (Language)

Why I Write

You’ve got cracked commissures
from all the blowing (up balloons),
a lip-lined slut making lines of people
shut in the party space. Where there’s glitz
and all that other shit. It’s all half lit
under a broken disco ball.

And you wonder
why the lines go (and get drunk)
in two rows. Streamers hide their faces,
but you see one side is naked
with voices that hit the dance floor hard
like a timpani with coca stems
or a fire kissing flying gems.
This side is a party with no decorations
or glow-in-the-dark, skin-baked paints.
The crowd waits
to listen.

But who gives a fuck
if your best friend’s dead—
if there’s a meth lab under your bed?
If you lay down to get bills (paid),
if your dad made you a Miami whore
with a drug-induced metaphor?

So put on your beaded, red dress
and a headdress. Get in line
with the other side of queens
with flaming Hula Hoop crowns.
Entice the brethren of poetic engineers,
so they can’t examine your well-oiled tears.
Too gaudy. Too much. Shut up.
This party doesn’t breathe
because you’re hiding underneath
imagery therapy.

Tell the crowd you’re tired (and sick)
of all the misinterpretations of your decorations,
how you’re ready for integration,
little flakes of streamers and no more disco ball.

No lights. Just voice.

Sublime

I read the poem 5 times.

Hmm. A very disheartening topic, but presented brilliantly. I will leave it to others to comment on the subject matter. As for the rhythm of this piece - very nicely done. I didn't falter in any place. Very well done.

Thank you both for reading this one. It means a lot to me.

Made a couple changes to this one. The ending in particular. I took out "your." I think it works better this way.

Well, I read the piece several more times. I think the word commissures deserves to be looked to understand the first line. Beginning with that the poem gave sharp imagery, with a pleasant incursion into the bizarre. I liked the use of the "crystal ball" at the end of the first stanza, and then having it reappear at second to last stanza was an effective, what ever it is, And also led to the cryptic final line. Well done.

jeffrey

Apparently, this poem has been taken the wrong way. I was afraid of that. Just want to be clear: This is an attack on myself and no one else. Sorry if it implied otherwise. That's my fault. Hope no one was offended.

Bay, I have read this several times, as well, for the sheer enjoyment of how you master language. A very colorful yet intensely dark piece. The contrasting is very effective. Just a couple of my favorites:

with voices that hit the dance floor hard
like a timpani with coca stems
or a fire kissing flying gems.

Inventive and brilliant! And the rhyming is smooth.

But who gives a fuck
if your best friend’s dead—
if there’s a meth lab under your bed?

You did it! You got across such bitterness, sadness behind its mask. Again, easy rhyme. Blue...just WOW!

Lavish language. Laurie