My Poetry (Not as pretentious as it sounds...)

I mentioned in my last post that my poetry is either humorous or wallowing in self-pity, -loathing, -whatever. It was my way of showing how amazing Hope's ability to maintain stability, clarity, and insight in her work really is. And it is amazing.

My poetry rarely sees the light of day. And this is a good thing. But, because I celebrated Pancake Day today (a day late, I know), I'm feeling a little nostalgic for York. Whilst I was a student at York St John's, I took a creative writing class. It was an amazing experience, except that I had to write poetry. Now, my sestina wasn't horrific, but that had rules to cage the raging beast that is my wackiness. I thought I was out of danger. But then our tutor had us write another one, inspired by one of the pictures he put up on the projector. The one I chose was something akin to this:

Thanks to greatbendks.net

And this is what I got:

Karma in Iowa

The wire’s rusted, ugly in its decomposing utility.

It runs through splintered posts,

Dyed the same rust by the sun, bringing

Another day of slow death by oxidation-

The addition that leads to subtraction.

It only makes sense in chemistry.

I think it’s effing weird.

That red color is too, like the wire

Is some messy axe-murderer.

(Which may explain the yellow-bleached grass.

But their screams have faded,

Not even a survivor to break

The godforsaken silence.)

That stupid wire, mocking me.

Just because it is, for now,

The tallest thing until the closest cow.

That one, right over there,

Yeah, that one, the one that just got tipped.

His Hindu Holiness probably laughing

About effing karma and shit.

Never piss on an electric fence.

Note that I tried to start in all seriousness, throwing in words like "decomposing" and "oxidation" like I was so cool. But then it all went horribly, horribly wrong. But I was (and still am) so perversely proud of this poem that I submitted it as part of my final portfolio for the class. Perhaps I was emboldened by the lack of effect the grade would have on my Calvin GPA. Perhaps, after a semester of living next door to hard-core partiers, my sleep-deprived brain finally snapped into complete madness.