Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Nonsensical

Word Count: 729

I try not to take myself too seriously, but sometimes it just happens.
What is the longest poem you've ever written? I can tell you why I hate it. It has to be slightly related in a random way. All poetry is structured. *Insert routine speech here* Maybe it's better to not know the answer to that question.
Nonsensical is my favorite word. I smile every time I hear it.
As I sit in the library I try to begin the 1, 250 words of poetry, but Facebook gets in the way, then the trees start blowing and catch my attention. They remind me that I should be outside right now because there is literally not a cloud in the sky and the sun would color my extra pale skin. You could start off with "How, now, brown, cow..." that line always brings some tears.
Poetry isn't so bad as long as there are beautiful words. Rhyming, meter, stanzas, verses: they don't matter as long as there are beautiful words. (nonsensical is a beautiful word)
But on the plus side. Oh! That's fantastic! I am really surprised. And that's really strange, I think. He wanted the whole thing. He speaks so well. It's got everything. You can kinda see that in this. All of it is legitimate.
That's weird. Like radical positivity. That's really trippy. This is the first time somebody put an onomatopoeiatic uttering of a goose in a poem. To be like kissy kissy it blows the fuse. Like flowy.
Affect style is emotion. No fear, love what is, the truth, fondness, don't be overly cautious, equanimity, calm, not angry, generosity, affection, praise, faith, helpiness (is that a word?), positive, composed, not discouraged.
With Song of Myself Whitman praises the things that have been overlooked by other poets. He brings poetry and beauty down from esteem and into the dirt and grime of humanity. He does not place himself above the readers, instead touches their private worlds. Why the recurring grass theme?
I need you. As much as I hate crying in front of you, it's much worse when I can't soak your shoulder in my tears. There's nobody else that I can talk to about anything more consequential than the menu for the next meal. Sometimes even that conversation starts an argument.
It's nonsensical.
Libraries are some of the most comforting places in the world. Very few other locales offer a guarantee of peaceful thoughts. The smell of old books makes me want to sleep curled up in the center of a king-sized water bed.
Can text messages be poetry?
You're like almost famous now. Can I have your autograph? Only if I can sign your face. YES!
Aghhhhh, denim!
Hey, it's me cameron from far off in Ohio. I really need to hear God's direction.
My ride home was awesome. God lead me in a direction that I hadn't even thought about. I will tell you all about it soon.
Sweet dreams, lover.
Aw, even though I missed your text by hours, and you are probably asleep by now, I <3 you.
In a ditch. Filthy and freezing, but out. Phew!
Erm, oops! Cursed phones. I am sorry.
Don't worry I actually miss you already. You give really good hugs. I miss you I need a hug and if I woke you im sorry.
I've read two whole books today and still my thoughts return to you.
Have a happy day! Keep working until the end. Don't give up. Your perseverance will always be rewarded. Go change the world!
Could you at least try to grow up a little? It's not funny. It never was. I cried that night in the park.
Praying for you. Wishing you were here. Hoping you have a good first day.
Thinking about you makes me smile; I smile a lot.
I just saw a guy riding a unicycle to class uphill with a backpack!
Your sister said I am officially your date to her wedding. I was a little scared.
Why does every word he says still torment me now, two years afterward? I cried enough then. The tears reserved for him should be long dried up. After all, he never shed one. But still he insists that he was never wrong and owes me nothing unless I will pay the ultimate price to get back what was always mine.

RYLIE CARTER

No comments: