Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Creative Writing

I'm in a creative writing class right now.  I write poems in the class.  Here are some of mine so far.

Color #7F00FF

is violet in a mood?
violet has a way
and violet is a way
violet is away on vacation
but violet always comes home
does violet even know
that violet is only a color?

violet tries to be blue sometimes
sometimes orange, but it is fruitless for violet
fruitless for violet? no.
violet shines on masculinity
but beneath the façade, violet femmes

if they only knew what violet knows
that swampy green would envy violet
red would blush in shame at violet’s tongue
rays of yellow would try to stain violet
but violet is stubborn and hard to get out
indigo parades as violet from time to time
but only violet is what it is
and only violet knows what mood
violet is in.

violet would never presume
to step in for

pity for god

No one’s from Seattle anymore
disagree with me if you will
as long as you will
look me in the eye:
look me in my crooked
leather eye.
Talk to me in person
and when you’re with me
could you just be with me
or is that a little too
difficult for you?
Are you
like a god –
incapable of changing your ways?
You sure act like it:
like you think you are.
Why try to hide it now?
Just go with it now.
We all know
where you’re from

You’re my Seattle
and I’m not just saying
whatever anymore,
hoping I’ll get your attention
hoping you’ll want my words
like I want your stare:
like I want your crooked
iron stare.
hoping the music will move you
hoping I’m spilling out some
social imperative
hoping it’s never been spilled like
this before
hoping Apophis never causes
the oceans to spill:
hoping there is no tsunami
bigger than all my hoping:
none to wash me far
away from the sound:
of evergreen trees snapping out
the rhythm of Ray Charles…

…and yet here I am
digressing and drenched in hopes –
and hoping:
hoping this isn’t another case
of being less important
than a god that is incapable of
changing his mind.
God?  Are you incapable
of changing your mind?
God? GOD? God?
Are you?
How are you?

Home, for now

The front lawn
a graveyard
for refrigerators and
conventional ovens,
speaks to its lack
of conventional curb appeal.

The large yellow moving van
in the driveway has a smiley face
painted on its side wall that
tries to fool the passers by
into thinking that all is well
but I think they’ve got an idea.

Inside, the smell of spores
in hibernation for the winter
and an odd odor from dewy piles of
unchecked clutter accentuate
the chill that feathers your spine
while the nape of your neck realizes that

someone has died here.

The mirror on the far wall mocks us
as we trade melodic thoughts
and contemplate the small statue of Buddha
under the tilted chandelier
that has in its web  a
wayward plastic coat hanger.

The smoke of our breath commingles
with that of the fireplace,
our only source of heat and light
and the only thing that’s stirring until suddenly
some hellish spirit hurls a glass vase
against the wall mere inches from my face.

The back yard is silent but for the din of Aurora
with her pushers and walkers out In
full battle rattle making their statements
and staking their claims and vampires.
When the ground thaws out in a few months,
I’ll dig your fire pit right over there

and we’ll finally relax.

Yup.  So there that is.  I swear I'll post some music soon.  I'm working on it...

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