gordonzola: (Default)
Nearly 30 years after Reagan's war on poor people* and defunding of mental health facilities began it's hard to write about homeless people without being full of cliché, a cynical bastard, or sounding like a prep school photography student looking for gritty urban realism. So bear with me.

I was walking down the street and heard what I thought was an argument. Then I realized it was only one angry, raised voice. If I had to describe the accent, I'd say hungover, bitchy queen after a couple of decades of cigarettes. Piercing and mocking. Tired and witty. But definitely loud.

I didn't hear the intro so at first I thought crazy street preacher when I heard:
"SOME say the world will end in fire!
Some say in ice!"

Somewhere in my memory I knew I had heard that before. I realized it was a poem when I heard
"From what I’ve tasted of desire

I didn't know that I knew it, maybe it's because he was my Mom's favorite poet, but immediately I thought, "That's Robert Frost."

"That's Robert Frost people!" he said to the folks within hearing distance who were trying to ignore him. "And I'M SORRY, I can't remember the rest,** I'm really sorry. But it's really GOOD. Go look it up! It's a good fucking poem and you don't even care. ROBERT FUCKING FROST. Read a book, IT'S IMPORTANT"

I applauded but I was the only one and either I was too far away or he was too addled to notice and he started walking in the other direction. It was right across the street from the last homeless performance artist I wrote about. I'm sure that somehow there is an artist lifeforce there, emanating from beneath the concrete. Or maybe a performance artist ghost muse of encouragement. The recycling center is obviously just a coincidence.

*A continuation and reaffirmation of the war on poor people that has been passed down from generation to generation but was slightly disrupted during the '60s and '70s.

** I looked it up. Here's the rest:
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Found poem

Nov. 21st, 2005 10:57 pm
gordonzola: (Default)
no really. I found this in front of the grated parmesans. I thought it was a shopping list and threw it out when [livejournal.com profile] dairryiere exclaimed, "Wait, is that a poem?"

Memories light the corners of mind
of the kind
You were the sunshine in the rain
the pleasure healing in my pain

And like a distance star I see you your
light fade into the until memory
becomes pain. My love,
my world
is gone away.

I was seventeen when you answered
the call

Unfortunately it just ends there. I'm not sure it's finished. If you have an inspiration for an ending, feel free to supply it.

Also this paper smells really bad and I wish I hadn't touched it. Patchouli bad. (No offense to my friend who got tossed from Zeitgeist.)

oh geez...

Nov. 7th, 2005 09:05 am
gordonzola: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] chzmongrrrweeps has a new bad poem up. I had hoped he/she had given that up.
gordonzola: (Default)
Then this sestina is for you. Even though they rejected [livejournal.com profile] chzmongrrrweeps's cheesemonger sestina, I'm still addicted to reading these.
gordonzola: (Default)
Well, there's that poetry meme going around. First off, I must direct you to this wonderful Cheese sestina that I read over at [livejournal.com profile] chzmongrrrweeps. I laughed. I cried. It was like they were writing about my life.

But, in the spirit of things, I'll type one by George Kauffman.

May Day Unsung 

Pardon us,
     we seem to have taken
     a wrong turn. May Day
has become unsung,
    the Red Square 
silent and the technique
    of the West
has overcome the will
    of the people.
    We are six workers
          in search
    of a revolution,
          and we shall
               bury you.

now go post some poetry in your own LJ.
gordonzola: (Default)
Check out this journal I heard about through [livejournal.com profile] nihilistic_kid:

[livejournal.com profile] chzmongrrrweeps

Cheese-y poetry!
gordonzola: (Default)
Hipster bar with fancy paint job,
someone didn’t like your bull.
Black Flag bars,
an embarrassment to punks everywhere.
It’s up/down/up/down,

And for Darby’s sake,
Don’t do it in white.

Stupid new school.


gordonzola: (Default)

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