Spoken Word & Written Poetry | Squat the Planet

Spoken Word & Written Poetry

beersalt

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Here are a few works of mine from the last 6 months*

I decided to post audio, as well as finished write-ups for those who have a personal preference for one, or the other. Also, I'm quite curious as to any of your own feelings in regards to the differences in media. If the same message/rythm is conveyed well in both types, or you like the write up better than the spoken word, because of yadda, yadda.. Etc.
Any constructive criticism is appreciated, and welcomed !

*

~Mind Goo~
Upchuck of squeamish coil friend

You are hot,


And cooling.

I
am curling;
into
unbewildered dread


The house

The weed

The walls


I fold, and carry boxes

He guided the man to use his body as support, as he wiggle with the toddle of over indulged drunkenness

"Hold me, like I'm a box"

People these days..

Only boxes have things in them.

Not bodies,

Boxes.

I write
in form of
weird mildue

The aroma appeared once the other foul smells ceased..


Now,

holding thee;

electric device of annoyance,
yet cataclysmic portal emminating creative mind stimuli

From the making,

And for myself


This clash of time is fucking with me..

.Evolutionarily diseased.

*

~E-nuff~
Can you see what is happening to me?

In the array of mist,

Hyperbolic anomaly.

metamorphosis of disarray

All

searching

for/ something..

Striking to

not allow past traumas to taint the sweet treat finally obtained from such patience.

That dance we call

avoidance.


Passive aggression

will leave you bleeding

on the ground

But, come-on

Equal delirium has gotsta happen

As we love so dearly..



For you, what is it?

*Intrinsic scoff*


-Keep striving-

hope to once hear the tone/

of voice,

and choice

of wording

that makes the cut


Deep
Into the mutter-
Of/

"Enough."

*

~Greyhound vibe~
Another bus ride, full of tracing rail lines
And blue eyes taking in the greenery
Always seems to be outta season when
Reaping the place I was born with these boots on..
Every part of my knowing hit the trash can
Put them chips on the table and left 'em

Hardly looked back, and when such happens
I slap that hand
And keep shedding all of this
Unnecessary bull-shit.

Riding amidst the tainted air molecules..
Some worse than others.
Idea's seep away with the wet paint on
The train bridge..
Fresh, to get rid of old.
Oh so fresh..
Oh so new
Yet, already been experienced.
This hardship, this love, this experiment.
Feelings of inspiration.
They all become stagnant,
Just like flies will always lay their eggs in poop.
The pond ices over, step carefully.
Break through, laugh, and walk somewhere else with wet feet.

These weed sammies be affectin' me..
1. And I want to be engrassed in moss
Along with the boulders that fall apart.
All of these circles cease to ever be averted by any

I met a circle once..
We ran into her sign language teacher on the suburban sidewalk next to the blue- scotch tape house,
And I had to explain that she had a brain thing and we needed to get water
But really we needed to start a fire because the mushrooms were seriously taking a hold.
Sunflower was born that day,
But went back into their bud because it was more comforting than facing the rain.

Since then I can't stop meeting them damn circles..


*
 
D

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Written out, the work reminds me of the best of Plath, but spoken it's pure Ginsberg! Dragon is the Poet Laureate of the Rails!
Amazing work...
 

beersalt

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Plath, eh? I'm reading "The Bell Jar" as of late..
Why thank you, @Bey
I appreciate your kindness, and support**
The encouragement means a lot!
Glad you enjoy
 
D

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Ah, the Bell Jar! If memory serves, Plath told a journalist that she envied novel writers for having the time to develop ideas, as opposed to the brevity of poems. She said that the door of a novel slowly closes while a poem's door slams shut...
I know her husband was a post as well, but, I think, he never came near her abilities.
 

AAAutin

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You have a languid and jaded quality to your vocal cadence that reminds me of the reading style of William S. Burroughs...sans heroin, of course.
 

WyldLyfe

I'm a d-bag and got banned.
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Thank you! @WyldLyfe I'm afraid that I don't understand what you mean about another thread being more suitable for a comment..?

Your welcome, it was just a bit of music because this was poetry I put it here, then moved it to music thread tho. Iv written poems before too tho, here is one of them.

Trees in the night, under the moon
Rain falls, lightning strikes, thunder will boom
A great display a wonderful tune
New lives are born they come from the womb
Creation is dancing, the sun will be soon.

 
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