fucking history

i hope you aren’t talking about me
because if you are, i will elipses
further than you dreamed
and you will not care

hovering nebulae
comely in fingers
of magenta hither
climb  endlessly
molasses with
sticky womb

strings
are the
nutrition
of hot venus
a violin web
whose bow
flashes
flesh and
arches the
neck of
desire

volcanic
we erupt

and amoebae
forth magmatic
single at death

anger means loving
it is fear, ownership
and i am willing to
give up my am
to simply be

5 thoughts on “fucking history

  1. I love that you just go crazy when you write—hyphens, “bent” parts of speech, insane metaphors/descriptions. You say whatever pops into your head, and you aren’t afraid to just run with weird words—play hopscotch, jumprope, whatever games they want to play with you. That’s poetry to me. Like all this delicious gooey goodness:

    “climb endlessly
    molasses with
    sticky womb”

    “strings
    are the
    nutrition
    of hot venus”

    But then you end with something completely profound, easy to understand, and universal:

    “i am willing to
    give up my am
    to simply be”

    I love that you’re twisted too, like how you say “give up my am” instead of “give up my [right] arm.” You pick slammin’ words and then you mess with them, squeeze their necks, gut them, and hang them from trees.

    Brilliant work. Great energy. Inspiring poetry.

  2. The title of this poem reminded me of this song here:

    The last stanza is my favorite

    anger means loving
    it is fear, ownership
    and i am willing to
    give up my am
    to simply be

    At first I read that as “give up my arm” as in I would give my right arm to simply be, to just be able to be free to BE MYSELF, for god’s sake! To just be able to be free to live and to be myself for once in my life, without being stuck in this oppressive and abusive relationship with an abuser who thinks that “anger means loving” but it is really fear and ownership and a desire for power and anger and control and total domination of their partner. I don’t know. I’m just rambling, I don’t know what I’m saying……………………………………………………….

    • I love that song, actually. And your interpretation is fabulous. I love “ramblings”… Ramble on, any time. Today I’m all over rambling. I’m without the whimsical beauty of subtle poem, and instead entrenched in meandering trains of thought. Colliding trains. Hehe

  3. i am willing to
    give up my am
    to simply be
    My favorite part. It makes me think of what I would be willing to give up for something I want. Even with good news there is a price, less time for your self or your family. Everything comes with a price.

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