Week 2: Melodramatic Do-Wop

Melodramatic Do-Wop

As a writer,
hating a word
is an art form
(or a sign of insanity)

Justifying its guilt
takes the talent and
thoughtfulness required
to write a prize-winning paper.
(i.e. the theory of bread)

It isn’t easy to explain
why certain letters, when put together,
can have the same effect as
nuclear winter.
(at least, in the linguistic sense)

Can’t a word be, wrong,
if it can be intelligent,
powerful, or unique?
(of which “unique” isn’t)

A right word,
to many,
isn’t inherently right,
just placed correctly.
(a write word)

Words,
to many,
have no character,
only in context
are they given life.
(those people are idiots)

Words taste,
they make noise,
they can suffocate,
(make you say, oogie-boogie)

Words can be hated,
any real writer
will tell you this.
(the worst word is always in the title…)

Poetry: Week 1

I drive downtown
into my constructed life,
as a fly in my window
sings, “Work Me, Lord."

Lord, let that fly, fly
wherever she wishes.
Her life is short
but not short-lived.

This fly on my window
sings, “I want what I want
not what the world gives me.”
Who am I to let
this red light block her?
Who am I to stop
these drawn out lines
of a few soulful words?

So sing fly.
Sing as loud
and as colorful
and as piercing
as you feel.

If I listen to your song
I might hear your freedom
and decide to live a life,
not have a destination.