Poetry / Politans
Last night
It was social oblongations
We sat in an ellipse
Ten people in five converstellations
Outside noise dictating
The parameters of our inclusions
When one discussion ended
A turn to the left or right
Could push an entirely different shape
Rounding edges and bashing angles
But for the most parts
Margarita conversternation
Is polite converse action
So topics with deep tropics
Are usually voided
Someone fell in the greenery
Which is always a hoot
The bathroom line was too long
And an informal discaption
With some twenty-somethings
Waiting for the unisex depository
Reminded me
That the city is still an exciting place
When it hasn’t yet shell-gamed your innocence
And replaced it with a sour preference for silence
Back at the table we tidied up any stories
And wished those who had a longer journey than most
A safe and stress-free travel
We will see you soon
When work calls
Or a yearning for some city excitement
Puts wheels on your caveat
And leads you here blindfolded
When we visit you
In your township or village
It takes us just as long to become mutable
And so our trips are short
An unspoken longing
For that which brings us comfort
Even that which is sharp and tangy
Salted with the breath of decay
Brings us safely to our local margarita spot
Where the constellations are cordial
And the cordials are whipped into submashion
—
4.25.08
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“I Like It”
I agree with your values-poetry is poetry-words with meaning and nothing more.
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For the most part your made-up word amalgamations are understandable and humorous, but I could not figure out what you meant by “discaption.”
Overall, I liked the sense of whimsy and the accurate description of the “converstellations” that form when people get together.
I liked it, and I also like margaritas. I believe the point of this poem is about talking on the train makes the time go by faster, and not to talk-to be silent would seem more longer.
Perhaps in a continuum of poems, as would be found in a book of your own, such reflections and internal language, a la “submashion,” etc, would take on the overtones of a private voice reflecting upon the daily rutine of life, like a “railroad” chugging away to become a short of new “On The Road” type of thing where the reader could meet a facinating speaker and learn philosophical musings from a self-made voice. In such a case the narrative arc of the speaker would drive the meaning. As is, I strugle to appreciate the subject and theme after the word-making bluster featuring essentially more verve. You know you make up words. All I can say is that some of them are interesting, particularly when you achieve a nifty metaphor as with “converstallations,” but there are places where it just seems pretentious, a lazy effort that gets in the way of a point, existing on its own as a flourish rather than a part of a whole, taunting the readers rather than inviting them to read. The first stanza is so codified and chewy I cannot help but feel it is difficult for a reader to run onto blind. Now, it may be my preference, because one of my favorite moments is your short two sentance moment, “someone fell in the greenery/which is always a hoot.” But I will go further to tell you why: it is one of the few moments where the tone allows the reader to laugh with the speaker rather than decipher the speaker. It’s one of the brief moments of light, and perhaps real emotion, in the piece.
Its a simple “I like it” from me…It is different and it clearly,and rather cleverly,tells a story.
I beleive there is a market out there for poetry for people who dislike poetry and this would fit the bill.
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