Posts Tagged ‘language’

Here’s a plank to think.

A response to an oral: an assembly.

Assemble quickly,

silently, or not so.

Better to think than preach, so they say.

So they say there’s a way. Even in.

An even you don’t. You catch.

An assault of lights.

A wink. A thousand brights. Yellow globes of strobe.

Yellow burning white.

Little planets.

Comets. Of whirring and flash

there is no worry.

And so to stick to mind.

And so stick a tongue, so stick a lip;

there are worse, and there are white lights.

And there are purses, there are people.

Where there are purses, there are people.

Mind not the blinding, the light

from up.

Think aloud.

“So they say.”

You say.

And there’s applause.

The prominent gray

white and blue of the supermarket gives

     way to your familiar faces.

We confront each other with casual friendship.

The words

from your tongue

      are the usual sharp, sour curses mixed in

            to everyday dialogue.

your beards are genitals

sewn onto your faces.

One of you

       is still pubescent, though

      really having just entered adulthood.

We talk.

One of you barely whispers that I’m “…a

       pussy, right?”

One of you comments how there will be nothing to do but

“drink and fuck” where I’m going.

     I almost want to say 

     “just like you do?” and bring up your girlfriends.

What do they see in you?

      And you can go breathe in cancer,

meanwhile I can feel my heart

is ten times heavier than both of yours,

          ten times larger.

That nonchalance,

      that callousness,

that you two possess

is not something I wish to be cursed with,

and I feel more mature than both of you.

     I feel older-

     responsible.

I unwittingly comprehend,

      I have something to live for.

It’s with everyone.

It’s worse with you.

 

Some disconnect between

brain and tongue and larynx,

syllables stack onto each other,

come out as just sounds.

 

There are little to no words

in my brain, blackness is it.

Being near you short circuits my speech.

 

I’m always searching for an answer

or reply with strangers.

You’re not a stranger,

you just make me feel strange.

 

I can’t think of anything to say,

though I want to be witty,

I want to sound smart.

 

My mouths opens and closes

like I’m imitating a fish. I turn red.

 

It’s with everyone.

It’s the worst with you.

Writing is my Gift.

May I ask, what’s yours?

Let us resolve- not

to keep these ‘yond locked Doors.

when sun beams

brown to bronze

bronze and yellow

clock yawns ticking tears stick

sleep and grog wake with steam

wreath wake with sniff

eggs out basket yolk to china

table light bronze yellow

shimmer shimmer eyes

perk up perk up mug

drip sip dribble spoon

knuckles chime hold place

lean so stiff

slurp and blink

hand down on table yellow

bronze and yellow

because sun is greeting

A Voice is the thing to use-

without Pen at hand.

A Voice will raise the Truth,

a Pen will make It grand.

gold sun could lock

an eye blink orange

lozenge of trees break to fence

green cones spindles undulate wind

black streaks crows in streams geese

meadows pale gold flat iron yellow

white teardrops splash pile

trickle trickle

away


Today I’ve written for you what has been deemed a “Language Poem”, popularized by Gertrude Stein.

The intent here is to focus not on the meaning of words, but the way they sound.