hello op/lers (c+c)

[just spock]

48-hour bender
i dragged my feet to my shoes.
they walked me to the bus stop.




this is bullshit why can't i stop writing s**t ******** this i hate everything forever

[MaddHadter]

just spock

48-hour bender
i dragged my feet to my shoes.
they walked me to the bus stop.




this is bullshit why can't i stop writing s**t ******** this i hate everything forever

The irony is I like this short poem. I mean I liked most of what's in this thread. But 48-hour bender is great.

[just spock]

quiet muscles has a low laugh
he smokes a joint with me in his chevy
goodbye, i smile at him
he looks at his feet
goodbye

[Daionii]

just spock

It’s funny you can miss something so intangible
I think home is the expressions you make and the way you hug me when we reunite every two to three years

heart

[just spock]

as if you're an egg, and because you're gentle,
please pull inward,
tug on all the fishing rods
you cast so far from your core--
silver whips in freezing trash water
feeling in the dark for some willing lips--
your frayed tweed energy fans out like sunlight.

i'm left in an unfinished basement room
with my empties

[just spock]

"and all you can do is just watch me go"


--
yep. this is my unfinished bedroom in this sleepy town.
creamy green paint peels next to my pillow, near the
pressed particle board. a thin tan blanket over the window,
which i take down only when it rains,
so the wet light reflects off

a stack of empties. they're a hidden rainbow,
tucked quietly into the shelves that hold
my ratty collection of vonnegut, murakami,
and just so stories.
i unpacked not even two weeks ago.

much like you, i snapped every spine
i inhaled the musty paper and dust motes--
and easily, i am transported
to the years we don't discuss.
smoking hookah in your tin town apartment,
you there with a tallboy of OE.
that was the year things got so ugly,
they began to shimmer.

so much like you, i'll crack another island brew
or maybe a glass of single malt scotch whisky.
you red-bearded celtic son of a ********.
i was your sixpack of lucky, your friday night dinner rush,
crushed

[Onion]

just spock

as if you're an egg, and because you're gentle,
please pull inward,
tug on all the fishing rods
you cast so far from your core--
silver whips in freezing trash water
feeling in the dark for some willing lips--
your frayed tweed energy fans out like sunlight.

i'm left in an unfinished basement room
with my empties

imagery feels all over the place. egg or fishing rods?

"frayed tweed energy" i don't 100% grok but i'm not unsatisfied with it.

i like how it ends short and sweet but at the same time i feel like the "unfinished" aspect of the basement could be expanded upon, or highlighted at least, if the idea has as much importance as i think it does.

[just spock]

Onion

imagery feels all over the place. egg or fishing rods?

"frayed tweed energy" i don't 100% grok but i'm not unsatisfied with it.

i like how it ends short and sweet but at the same time i feel like the "unfinished" aspect of the basement could be expanded upon, or highlighted at least, if the idea has as much importance as i think it does.

haha hey long time no talk

in the next few days i reckon i'll revisit this piece, maybe rewrite a bit
the second in the series does mention my unfinished basement bedroom
and my rainbows of empties
etc
the year things got so ugly, they began to shimmer

[Power Armor Felix]

just spock

as if you're an egg, and because you're gentle,
please pull inward,
tug on all the fishing rods
you cast so far from your core--
silver whips in freezing trash water
feeling in the dark for some willing lips--
your frayed tweed energy fans out like sunlight.

i'm left in an unfinished basement room
with my empties

There's actually some great transitions here from birth to cruelty, it's rare to see the portrayal of an intimate relationship parallel underlake life so well. Your use of empties is great too, it's like the speaker was looking for something beautiful and woke up surrounded by beer cans. Another cool aspect is that the fish lips are looking for nourishment but will only find silver whips and the coldness of their environment. I like it, it's sexy; it brings to mind my gender's ruination of women. Taking them to the trash pond, it's what we do! surprised

[InsaneShadowFan]

Hello, Spock. I'm glad to see that you're still writing poetry.

I read this one:

just spock

"and all you can do is just watch me go"


--
yep. this is my unfinished bedroom in this sleepy town.
creamy green paint peels next to my pillow, near the
pressed particle board. a thin tan blanket over the window,
which i take down only when it rains,
so the wet light reflects off

a stack of empties. they're a hidden rainbow,
tucked quietly into the shelves that hold
my ratty collection of vonnegut, murakami,
and just so stories.
i unpacked not even two weeks ago.

much like you, i snapped every spine
i inhaled the musty paper and dust motes--
and easily, i am transported
to the years we don't discuss.
smoking hookah in your tin town apartment,
you there with a tallboy of OE.
that was the year things got so ugly,
they began to shimmer.

so much like you, i'll crack another island brew
or maybe a glass of single malt scotch whisky.
you red-bearded celtic son of a ********.
i was your sixpack of lucky, your friday night dinner rush,
crushed

I don't have too much in the way of critique to make, but I wanted to let you know that I noticed and read it, and to tell you to keep it up. This seems pretty--what's the word, confessional? Sometimes I like reading that kind of stuff as a nice break from more structured, deliberate pieces. Sometimes you just have to let it go wherever it needs to go.

I like the lines "the wet light reflects", "the year things got so ugly,/they began to shimmer. The last two lines are especially full of emotion.

Was this piece influenced by a personal experience? Did you actually date and break up with this red-bearded celtic son of a ******** and move away to another city all by yourself? That takes a lot of strength.


ISF

[just spock]

InsaneShadowFan

Hello, Spock. I'm glad to see that you're still writing poetry.

I don't have too much in the way of critique to make, but I wanted to let you know that I noticed and read it, and to tell you to keep it up. This seems pretty--what's the word, confessional? Sometimes I like reading that kind of stuff as a nice break from more structured, deliberate pieces. Sometimes you just have to let it go wherever it needs to go.

I like the lines "the wet light reflects", "the year things got so ugly,/they began to shimmer. The last two lines are especially full of emotion.

Was this piece influenced by a personal experience? Did you actually date and break up with this red-bearded celtic son of a ******** and move away to another city all by yourself? That takes a lot of strength.


ISF

ISF,

thanks for the note. it feels good to get noticed. (same goes for you, felix. thankyou.)

the red-bearded heartbreaker is real, unfortunately. i moved back to my hometown--an act better described as cowardly than anything else. it is what it is. i'll spit out a bunch more poetry about how my heart is broken and my bedroom is full of empty beer cans, and hopefully come out more polished than ever. dramallama

thanks again for the notes, both of yas. i'll keep posting my heart.

[InsaneShadowFan]

just spock

InsaneShadowFan

Hello, Spock. I'm glad to see that you're still writing poetry.

I don't have too much in the way of critique to make, but I wanted to let you know that I noticed and read it, and to tell you to keep it up. This seems pretty--what's the word, confessional? Sometimes I like reading that kind of stuff as a nice break from more structured, deliberate pieces. Sometimes you just have to let it go wherever it needs to go.

I like the lines "the wet light reflects", "the year things got so ugly,/they began to shimmer. The last two lines are especially full of emotion.

Was this piece influenced by a personal experience? Did you actually date and break up with this red-bearded celtic son of a ******** and move away to another city all by yourself? That takes a lot of strength.


ISF

ISF,

thanks for the note. it feels good to get noticed. (same goes for you, felix. thankyou.)

the red-bearded heartbreaker is real, unfortunately. i moved back to my hometown--an act better described as cowardly than anything else. it is what it is. i'll spit out a bunch more poetry about how my heart is broken and my bedroom is full of empty beer cans, and hopefully come out more polished than ever. dramallama

thanks again for the notes, both of yas. i'll keep posting my heart.

Seize the opportunity, Spocky! You've got the drive to write and the passionate emotions that need the outlet. It's doubly-good.

[just spock]

i can smell him on me now less than an hour later
his cologne or deodorant or bodywash whatever
i can smell it, it smells like "you're a whore" and
"that felt fantastic"

his smell on my palms
and in my palms a room temperature beer
there's a metaphor in there somewhere but
i'm too lazy and satisfied

[just spock]

mikey,

this strain of evening have been breeding:
me nursing an iced-down drink
listening to sad-eyed lady of the lowlands for you
quietly wondering where you are and who you're with
and what you're thinking------what were you thinking
when you plucked my over ripe heart
off the ground
hm?

same reason i'm sipping scotch, i guess.
today i said, "the reason i do things is only to see what happens",
and every night i do this i care a little less

because

this morning i showered somewhere new
my hair smells like him
every night i do this, i forget pieces of you

[just spock]

"yer somethin' else, eh" it tumbled out
as a small cloud of knowing breath in the frosty early morning.
november blinked past me, and my curtain of hair
has grown more than ever this year,
but i keep pushing it out of the way so i can see you.
"it's december" you said "twenty more days"

"******** christmas" there isn't even any snow on the mountain yet