Flarfy Feelings

Here’s my first time writing a Flarf poem. Let’s see how this goes over in class tonight.

 

Flarf: Lust Ever Fleeting, Love Upholds

The only woman

pioneered

the lone woman.

They

never quite saw her as an equal…

The Girl,

(Art’s first punk),

continues to inspire people.

History has taken a while to catch up to her

repressive attention to detail –

Die

Die training

…And it just works.

Corrosive, cute

art form

To be wrong, awkward

in horror…

I had always felt bad

I wrote what I thought

And it went on like that

Awful poems materialized

More awkward, the “voice” in my head

The results, hilarious monstrosities

Corrosive, awful

“Cute” words

Began to pile up

Baby regrets

Mistakes were made

and moments lost

Isn’t that cute?

If I could just steal away one

tender moment from my past

and trap it in my heart

Baby

Baby

Take the love.

As hot approaches

During the hot months

There will be extended

Hatred

Regular

Hatred.

To receive unconditional love,

illicit affairs

Verify the reason

approving unconditional love.

Picking up on words

Became relatively silent –

I started a “sadness” series,

“The horrible sadness”

“The awful sadness”

“The unending sadness”

Stifling mourning!

Some are silent observers

A kind of joke among “friends”

Others use it to develop longer work.

Warming up,

Perfectly in beat

This is no church.

Sometimes She plays

with no theme

It goes over well –

She will be back,

They know how to fire up a crowd!

“Endurance, intensity, love, and discipline”

I like stories

I also like concepts,

like prayer or ‘acts,’

which means adoration, confession, thanksgiving and supplication –

“Endurance and praise.”

Sometimes Nature plays tricks on us

Fluids flowing up and down the spine

Sometimes

Sometimes,

I play my part on my stage

Sometimes my anger at the fire is evident

Sometimes it is not anger, really.

It may appear as such,

but could it be a clue?

The fire I speak of

is not a kind fire.

There is a story behind that.

There are many stories

Some of them are sad, some funny

Some are stories of madness, of violence.

Some are ordinary.

Yet they all have about them a sense of mystery…

The mystery of life

sometimes the mystery of death.

The mystery of The Woods.

It is beyond the fire

Though few would know that meaning.

Is it funny to you?

Reasons can even explain the absurd.

Sometimes ideas, like men,

jump up and say, “hello!”

They introduce themselves,

these ideas, with words.

Are they words?

These ideas speak so strangely.

All that we see in this world is based on someone’s ideas.

Some ideas are destructive

some ideas can arrive in the form of a dream.

Yes, we are ignorant of many

beautiful things…

things like the truth.

So sadness, in our ignorance, is very real.

One day the sadness will end.

Even the ones who laugh

are sometimes caught without an answer.

Yes, look in the mirror.

Poems are people

not confined

Inappropriate admissions

unlimited goodwill

unlimited!

Speak nature, speak fake

unlimited filthy love.

In a moment of being lost,

bored out my mind!!!

Considerable sensitivity towards all

Organic Passion –

A sentence,

it can suddenly happen

“Is it too much?”

The awkward position of longing

of desiring a total lack of capacity for desire…

One still has the same job in the morning.

Apparitions hover

the beautiful “character”

one searches out

occasions for laughter,

connection

In a moment of being lost in thought,

toe dance of reason

aversion to information

the entrance gates to a world of

grotesques seem to open up.

This is the connection

of being exhilarated with the feeling of doubt.

One traverses the same paths

of thought as before

Only they seem

strewn with roses.

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