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Log in"Suicidal Idealization" [2023]
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"Suicidal Idealization" [2023]
by FukinSpookie Sun Jul 30, 2023 2:45 pm
The greatest talent I posses by far
is the ability to play make believe,
that I have any capability of
either knowing how to read
or having at all the want to read.
And I often don't.
Save for the rare occasion
when I lose power, leaving me with
nothing better to do.
Battery power must be saved.
There's nothing much gained or lost gawking at the phone screen anyway.
Look too hard and I might catch a glance
of something truly beady
truly ugly.
Hard to give shape to an opaque
black screen,
but the shape is there.
It's mine and I hate it I hate it so much.
I like giving the impression that I know how to read,
I like giving the impression that I want to read. It makes me seem more worldly,
more ...
articulate than what I am in most realities.
Repetition does well where a lack of meaningful talent doesn't.
Neither knowing or wanting to read makes
the irony of considering myself a poet
even funnier.
An illiterate -- or near enough illiterate poet.
Repetition does well where a lack of meaningful talent doesn't.
I find it suits me just fine.
I'm going to beat that notion into your head
like a railroad spike
like a shitty love song missing the point
of love by a country mile.
It's a sweet thing.
Like the butterflies have gone from
flittering about to rioting in earnest.
It shouldn't hurt.
And if it does hurt,
you're doing it wrong. wrong. wrong.
I feel nobody and I mean nobody
man nor woman or child with
dreamy aspirations towards the creative
can count or consider themselves among
the poetic greats
unless they go leaping from life's stage.
You're not Poe.
I'm not Plath.
Neither of us Curtis or Morrison.
Shakespeare himself,
now there's a poet,
said something to that effect.
"All the world's a stage, blah blah ho hum."
In my mind it's the next logical conclusion.
The final act to a personal drama.
Tragic death.
A murder, an accident, a suicide that likens to a soliloquy.
A poor comparison. The trash metaphor.
It makes me seem arty, articulate.
I assure you I feel smart.
Don't the irony be lost
on you though.
Shakespeare didn't leap from life's grand stage.
Neither have I.
Neither have you.
is the ability to play make believe,
that I have any capability of
either knowing how to read
or having at all the want to read.
And I often don't.
Save for the rare occasion
when I lose power, leaving me with
nothing better to do.
Battery power must be saved.
There's nothing much gained or lost gawking at the phone screen anyway.
Look too hard and I might catch a glance
of something truly beady
truly ugly.
Hard to give shape to an opaque
black screen,
but the shape is there.
It's mine and I hate it I hate it so much.
I like giving the impression that I know how to read,
I like giving the impression that I want to read. It makes me seem more worldly,
more ...
articulate than what I am in most realities.
Repetition does well where a lack of meaningful talent doesn't.
Neither knowing or wanting to read makes
the irony of considering myself a poet
even funnier.
An illiterate -- or near enough illiterate poet.
Repetition does well where a lack of meaningful talent doesn't.
I find it suits me just fine.
I'm going to beat that notion into your head
like a railroad spike
like a shitty love song missing the point
of love by a country mile.
It's a sweet thing.
Like the butterflies have gone from
flittering about to rioting in earnest.
It shouldn't hurt.
And if it does hurt,
you're doing it wrong. wrong. wrong.
I feel nobody and I mean nobody
man nor woman or child with
dreamy aspirations towards the creative
can count or consider themselves among
the poetic greats
unless they go leaping from life's stage.
You're not Poe.
I'm not Plath.
Neither of us Curtis or Morrison.
Shakespeare himself,
now there's a poet,
said something to that effect.
"All the world's a stage, blah blah ho hum."
In my mind it's the next logical conclusion.
The final act to a personal drama.
Tragic death.
A murder, an accident, a suicide that likens to a soliloquy.
A poor comparison. The trash metaphor.
It makes me seem arty, articulate.
I assure you I feel smart.
Don't the irony be lost
on you though.
Shakespeare didn't leap from life's grand stage.
Neither have I.
Neither have you.
FukinSpookie- Admin
- Posts : 97
Join date : 2023-03-24
Age : 29 -
Re: "Suicidal Idealization" [2023]
by Fawnxxx Sat Aug 05, 2023 8:27 pm
There are a lot of bits I love in this, but I hope youre well, as it's obviously very dark 
"Repetition does well where a lack of meaningful talent doesn't.
I find it suits me just fine.
I'm going to beat that notion into your head
like a railroad spike
like a shitty love song missing the point
of love by a country mile.
It's a sweet thing.
Like the butterflies have gone from
flittering about to rioting in earnest.
It shouldn't hurt.
And if it does hurt,
you're doing it wrong. wrong. wrong."
This is pure art.
"Repetition does well where a lack of meaningful talent doesn't.
I find it suits me just fine.
I'm going to beat that notion into your head
like a railroad spike
like a shitty love song missing the point
of love by a country mile.
It's a sweet thing.
Like the butterflies have gone from
flittering about to rioting in earnest.
It shouldn't hurt.
And if it does hurt,
you're doing it wrong. wrong. wrong."
This is pure art.
Fawnxxx- Posts : 6
Join date : 2023-03-30
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