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.

I drank several glasses of strong tea that were labeled ‘proceed with caution’ – I tapped my fingers and clicked my tongue. I fashioned myself an outfit made from dusty doilies and called it a day. My heart began to expand from the inside, with my chest tightening, I knew it would soon explode. I started snapping at children and felt eager to do it again, the numbness I had held for months was going by the wayside. High octane energy was what I needed – yes, yes, yes! It felt good to be angry for no reason and annoyed at the slightest thing – at least now when I would be awake (!) for hours on end I could say I did so purposely and with style (!) …And in the end, when the exploding of my heart would open up my chest cavity – I would be the one solely responsible – lest suffer a half-assed job done by someone else.

“Ya know,” I said to the air, knowing The Specialist was behind me, without having to turn around.

“Ya know, I could very easily burn The Woods down and build a mall while I have all this pent-up energy, just before my heart gives out…”

He nodded.

“I could just as easily let you and build one as I could whistle Dixie. It would just grow back though and eventually ivy would climb all over the architecture, consuming it whole, making a mockery of any and all man-made creation,” he admitted.

I nodded.

“So what now?”

“We could both light the match…” he began.

We made eye contact.

“…Or we could both run away, straight out of The Woods, promising not to look back at each other – ”

“Running out of here in opposite directions?” I prodded.

“Yes, I’ll take the left and you can take the right…”

“…And we’ll go about our lives in order to have some semblance of sanity in our daily routine – ”

“Because life is difficult enough – ”

” …And if we happen to run into each other on the outside, somewhere in the middle, perhaps we could share a chuckle or casually comment on the weather,” I smiled.

“It could be nice…”

“Yeah, I think it really could be.”

We both sighed, shook hands, took turns slapping each other across the face, smiled, and with our fingers crossed behind our backs, proceeded to run for our lives. It was a start.

(ALTERNATIVE ENDING)

Suddenly a wild yellow dog with a determined look in its eye, started nipping at our heels and ended up following me home. A swirling vortex of a black hole appeared out of nowhere, sucking calendars and farm animals into it. By way of no other alternative escape, I jumped in narrowly escaping its paws. I was then drawn into the past, ruining an otherwise poignant and dare I say, positive, ending to this story.

(ALTERNATIVE TO THE ALTERNATIVE ENDING)

The dog managed to take me down and drew blood. I turned into a puppet only functioning with strong emotions.

(ALTERNATIVE TO THE ALTERNATIVE ENDING, ENDING)

My brain grew toned arms that jutted out of my ears. My other miscellaneous and vital organs patched themselves up with duct tape and staples. I bit the dog and everyone else real and/or imagined from the past, present and/or future that ever felt they could take advantage of me. I took a deep breath and journeyed towards something people call ‘inner peace.’

 

tears_1

I had traveled a great distance without so much as a canteen of water to quench me. I had left The Woods in search of some deep and meaningful solitude. I had left no notes, no smoke signals, said no goodbyes, nor held any shards of glass up towards the sun – I wasn’t sure if I could ever, really, truly return to The Woods. I threw my hands up and embraced clouds that dissipated into nothing. My jaw tensed up and I bit myself forty-seven times. I continued my journey down to a beach where nearby trees grew beautiful and taunted the spring season, as if they were hurrying it along. My feet rummaged through hot sand as I got closer to the water’s edge.

It was an awkward way to say hello but I gave myself a pep talk and made my way over to two women chatting. The waves of the sea cascaded my limbs into an adolescent doggy-paddle and despite their noticeable laughter, I knew I had to be near them. The water was littered with letters in bottles and the current was getting stronger as my body grew weaker. I couldn’t construct a visual picture of their faces, they seemed to be floating further and further away, ever gracefully, submitting themselves to the caress of a nature that could just as easily consume them. Arms stretched out, back down, and with their legs lined up forward, they became the property of the ocean. I feared I would never catch up to them. Feverishly pushing past all the bottles and quickly disintegrating pieces of paper, I kicked my legs while I still had enough momentum. Just as I thought I was making progress, I caught a glimpse of an ornate bottle, covered in precious stones. Distracted by what I thought contained an important letter, I reached for it and drowned.

I opened my eyes to the contrary, surviving. Multiple vanity mirrored faces hovered above my now awoken body. They were people with arms and legs and torsos and genitalia but their faces became contorted reflections of mine. I screamed and backed away as abruptly as I could. I closed my eyes, begging for an eternal slumber where perhaps I could have more control over the situation. Blackness fell before me and the Mirror People all fell down into little bits and pieces, shattering their very existences.

tears_2

A talkative man who looked a lot like The Magician, dancing with an unidentified woman in a red ballgown, scratched his head and made a copy of himself dancing with a copied unidentified woman in a red ballgown. They danced around in circles to a sort of trinket box kind of music, not particularly filled with glee or malice. The first version kept dancing, even as all my loved ones got stabbed in the face with forks. The second version stumbled in the darkness, stepping on toes and the second woman fell over. I stared from afar with my mouth agape as every single one of my teeth fell out. A man with a smile kept shoving bibs that read ‘Daddy’s Little Multiracial Lustchild’ in front of my face, grunting heavily, as a friend lingered close by. Somewhere in the distance a familiar face was giving birth to another demon baby. An attractive youth with a dry throat blushed every time he walked up to me, even as I continued to regrow teeth only to loose them, creating a faucet-like effect of blood, enamel, dentin, and pulp down my chin. It was all a lot of hullabaloo and I wondered where the actual love was.

tears_3

 

I opened my eyes and eased my way up to my feet. The ocean was vast and sparkling. I took a deep breath, feeling muscles where muscles had never been felt before. I turned my back and headed back towards The Woods, I was sure I would die there but not without a fight. Besides, I had a few more lives to spare. I laughed at myself repeatedly.

hysterical laughter

 

 

veiled woman_3

The blurry figure in black turned out to be quite the magician. He decided the best way to deal with me was to turn into a mallard duck and turn me into a fuzzy rabbit. With a wave of his hand, we could truly converse in that very strange way that animals do. He flew and I hopped up a short staircase and into a crowded house, in hopes of finding temporary shelter from the onslaught of rain out in The Woods. I stuck my tongue down his throat and knew that we would be friends from here on out.

“I don’t believe in love,” he uttered awkwardly.

I didn’t quite believe him but perhaps that was my own sweet, sweet naiveté. I paused and looked at him for a little too long, then shook my head. We would know more about each other in time.

“This beating, awful thing in our bodies is more than just an appendage! Yours went through a meat grinder and mine went through a paper shredder but these pieces can always be retrieved and taped back together!” I cried, trying hard to believe in my own words.

“Eventually, the process, once repeated, creates too many fragile and microscopic shreds and the tape begins to loose its hold. My mending tricks and healing spells can only work so many times, my magic diminishes as the years pass. I’m not saying this out of depression, really…it’s more of pure exhaustion,” The Magician admitted.

I silently acknowledged his position and the position that most hold at critical times in their lives. It made sense. I was young, but it made sense. I vomited unresolved issues in the corner of a dark room. Outside, tree leaves were glittering with dew. I looked behind me and just like that, he was gone.

 

 

the agony of the unknown

I got deeper into the darkness, chasing after that multicolored light. I basked myself in its warm and finally tangible embrace. I was safe from the cries of the misconstrued, Ol’ Bat, Teenybopper, The Specialist, and the whole fucking lot of them. I hid under a blanket of roses for awhile and refused to appear despite their calls to come out and play. When I was eventually found, all I could do was listen to what they had to say. The longer I laid under that blanket of roses, the harder it became to move – I knew I was slowly paralyzing myself. I gnawed my way through the increasingly tightening vines, blood dripping from my thorn bitten lips. I stood up.

“Nice to see you again!” they all shouted earnestly.

I was an emotional wreck that was behaving true to form but I silently chided myself because they all were too. They were giggling and puking and talking too much and not talking enough and crying and dying and living and learning and loving and dying…

The Specialist threw me a basketball and apologized for hitting me in the face with it multiple times before.

“You must think I’m the most gullible person here!” I shouted.

the horror of anticipation

He threw himself on the ground and showed me his belly, as a sign of his vulnerability. I sighed. We played War, we played Manhunt, we played Hide-N’-Go-Seek , we played Poker, we played Chess. The Specialist had an arsenal of people and/or props and a tool-kit that dated back before I was even a prayer in my mother’s throat. I had just myself to rely on towards winning these games. Now, naturally it would be assumed that he would win for he had the advantage of premeditation, scholastic connections, and a penchant for hazing the new kid. But call it beginner’s luck because I held my own. When our final game was finished we looked towards the sky for our score cards. We looked back down and slowly met each other’s gaze upon the realization and the absolute horror of a stalemate.

back to the drawing board

 

 

obstructed_reality

I built a podium made of sticks and mud. I held a press conference for all of the birds and beasts in the wilderness. The world was getting smaller and I began to speak of sadness, not judgment. Love was the theme. The Specialist was there along with our mutual friends. Ol’ Bat was tapping her foot to a rhythm in her head. Teenybopper was feeding the ducks. A man with a ring and a woman with a chastity belt got tangled up in a booby trap and I was almost curious enough to go see if they were all right but I figured that would come in time. The Woods would probably devour me before my speech was over but it didn’t really matter anymore.

“The thing about me is that I will always believe in fairy tales even as I’m being constantly reminded that they don’t exist. Don’t you know that I’m your little princess, your loyal dog that continues to get beaten? I can love hard and fast and long and come on too strong all in the name of staking claim over something invisible to the untrained eye. When people look upon my youthful countenance, they pinch my cheeks and flatter me with meaningless compliments often reserved for toddlers and the pitied. ‘You’re so cute,’ is a common phrase uttered by those who think I don’t know how the world works.

I am your child bride and I stand for principles that crumble as soon as doors are closed. I am your bitter old woman that trusts very few. I am typical and pure and evil and joyful and a bundle of controlled rage. I live in the mouths of the forgotten and in the minds who own vast amounts of landscape…”

I was beginning to unravel into nothingness.

“Despite it all, I wish never to become so jaded and disconnected from myself and others that I fail to see any light in this life…” I coughed, failing.

I paused, noticing a flash of multicolored light that temporarily blinded me. I put a hand to my face to help shield my eyes and squinted into the distance.

“LOVE IS MOSTLY PAIN!” shouted a blurry figure dressed in black.

“What?!” I shouted back to an unresponsive audience.

I got off the stage and went searching into the darkness.

ghost in the machine

It had been awhile but I decided to wander into the part of The Woods where I had once been kidnapped. I hoped to find The Specialist there, if only for a moment. He looked tired, as if he had been giving medical treatment to large groups of people in haste, he being the sole provider. I wanted to say a bunch of things all at once but none of it really made any sense so I stuck to the basics. Time was of the essence and this was all a fairy tale to begin with so beginning with false pleasantries would have been a waste of time.

“If you’re simply a conglomeration of hopes and dreams, bits and pieces of memories treasured and tattered, and I’m just another victim that needs medical attention, should I just stay out of this place altogether? If I’m just another patient that you can’t take care of or if I’m someone you’ve met before but pushed further and into stranger directions that even you couldn’t predict – Well, it’s sort of like the blind leading the blind, don’t you think?”

He was nervous now. A mutual friend lingered by, eager to capture this still life in paint and ashes.

“I am what you make me,” he sighed and then walked away.

I realized then that my knuckles were bleeding. I patched myself up and walked off into the night while my friend distracted me with tales of woe because the more I knew the less I actually learned.

simple ghost

my baseball bat
For Xmas, I bought myself a baseball bat. Isn’t she a fucking beauty?!

It’s the holiday season and I’ve been forced to ponder things very deeply and very astutely. It’s an unfortunate occurrence as I think I’m pretty on throughout the year but forgive me for I am about to be blunt. I must address all who dare come out of the woodwork and come to me in both tangible and ghostly scenarios. It’s a cosmic joke that almost feels like you all met beforehand and planned sporadic trips upon my doorstep.

When I was growing up I always thought that I had failed men, when in truth, it was they, who had failed me – again and again. My whole life has been a power struggle with invisible XY chromosomes and for what? I’ve accomplished things in spite of them, and until recently, my version of success was based more in defense tactics rather than in offense. I want to free myself from this. While I acknowledge that this can never completely happen, because the sexes will always battle on some level (this can be seen in nature), my primary focus will be on myself. I will handle weapons instead of shields.

I will win on behalf of my own glory first. If I should win in front of you, putting you out of your misery, this would only be a plus. I’m tired of being a victim, tired of being pushed around. I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut, and saying “…it’s okay.” I’m tired of not being able to love properly, whatever that means. The Woods sprouted foliage from my veins, I own them and you don’t have an invitation to peruse them whenever you like. They’re meant for me and a select few. There’s nothing here for you.

gold sequins_with me_1

I wanted to repay the favor. Touching my now bandaged temple, I slowly arose from the frondescence beneath me…

“Frondescence?” Teenybopper asked skeptically.

“Frondescence. Yes, frondescence.” I agreed, dizzily.

I looked around me and found no one; my wrists and ankles had become free. Everything or nothing could be at risk if I just got up and left. If I just got up, split myself in two and let my adjacent parts flee in opposite directions. I could almost envision it, safety resided in running further into The Woods while at THE VERY SAME TIME running away from it. It was getting exhausting/interesting to exist in the presence of my ghosts. I blinked, blinked, blinked…and steadied myself upright. I took a few steps further into the brush.

“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

The Specialist had lingered around. He was leaning against the scratchy bark of a tree, quite comfortably. My feet guided me closer to Him. I wanted to repay the favor. I wanted to repay the favor so I slithered my tongue into His ear canal, reaching into His sequined brain. He writhed in pain, pleasure, and confusion.

“Why, why me…?!” He panted.

I had no answer for Him. I had no answer for myself. I was busy and it was a gut reaction. An interrupting, gruff voice in the distance asked if I had a boyfriend. I wanted to punch it in the face.

banana lobotomy_4

I had run out of places to hide in my apartment where Ol’ Bat and Teenybopper wouldn’t find me so I escaped to The Woods in order to find some sort of peace. This would prove a fruitless adventure since they knew me better than I knew myself and could accurately predict my next move before I did.

“We’ve got to call The Specialist!” cried Ol’ Bat as she tied my ankles together.

For an old loon she certainly had stamina and a terrifying upper body strength that was unmatched. She laughed at my feeble attempts to kick her as I lay on the damp earth. Teenybopper, meanwhile, was holding my arms down firmly as per Ol’ Bat’s request. Screaming wasn’t worth anything here, I had traveled so deep into The Woods that I knew no one would hear me so I let my eyes water, salting my face silently. Next to be tied were my wrists. With a heave and a ho, I was dragged further into The Woods and into a part that I hadn’t traversed before. Ol’ Bat seemed to know it well.

We had reached a clearing; sunshine pleasantly kissed my skin. Fallen foliage and pebbled dirt cluttered my hair and twigs had cut my arms and legs. The glorious smoky smell of a bonfire lingered in my nostrils but I had yet to actually see one. I felt His presence before I could even turn my head for visual confirmation.

“My, look at those goosebumps!” bellowed The Specialist.

He made his way towards me, his physician’s coat gleaming bright in the midday sun. He carried a large leather doctor’s bag, a stethoscope peaked just out of the corner. He kneeled down, we met eye to eye, and checked my vitals. As He pulled out different instruments the bag’s bottom had become more obvious and I noticed a yellow patch of something I couldn’t quite identify as it was just out of my line of vision. Ol’ Bat looked on, nodding, as if she knew the score already. Teenybopper was off sitting under a willow tree, reading a textbook with pretty pictures in it.

The Specialist put a gentle hand to my clammy head.

“I want things to become a little clearer for you. You’ve been distressed for too long, and I have too. I want you to know that you are an important and integral part to all of this. You, my dear, are a strange case but one that has revived something within The Code…” He said, trailing off.

I didn’t know what say. I could see His heart beating through his coat, it was the color of deep crimson. I looked to Teenybopper. Stoically she met my gaze and held up a page in her textbook, a color photograph of The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. 

“Isn’t that a little heavy-handed?” I asked, a little exasperated.

Teenybopper shrugged. She didn’t care. She went back to looking at the pretty pictures.

“Look at me!” demanded The Specialist.

I whipped my head back to face him. He hovered over me, his breath was hot on my neck. In his hand was a banana, (the yellow patch from his bag). He tapped the side of my skull with a rough index finger.

“X marks the spot!” he whispered in my ear.

Just then I felt a searing pain in my temple, it felt like my insides were melting. I could feel a cold breeze go right through me, my vision was hazy. I looked up and found The Specialist on top of me, a bloody banana raised towards the sky. Absolutely breathless, I watched the banana come in for a second landing. Finally Teenybopper was taking some interest as she became fascinated with The Specialist as he thrusted the banana iiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnn and ooooooouuuuutttt of my skull.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do. I accepted my “defeat” with aplomb.