Found Poem

The best way to forget an alarming memory is to remember it first

Something happened?

Something happened.

He was not the only one who felt it

Our brains got too big

Not big enough to handle ourselves 

We got amused by cruelty and corruption

Not all problems lend themselves to tangible solutions 

Surrealism

The floor benight me jitters

The air screams

The doors are loud

My body is silent

My mind shouts

My eyes spins

My hands worry

My eyes are alone

My hands are shrinking

My heart is a volcano

My spirit is about to burst

The room is so small

About to be consumed by irrational bursts

A flood coming in slowly

A slow and constant drowning

A consumption

City sounds

bustling cars

fast paced feet

a symphony of sounds just on one street

A dog

A horn

A performance

It almost sounds like music

a tone a note and beat in every movement

close your eyes

let the sounds caress you

feel and hear it

the dark music of the city

Cubist Poem

It’s dark very dark dark

I shut my eyes my eyes are shut my eyes are shut they art

My mind can see I see with my mind my eyes are shut I can see

I see a house a house my mind lets me see

I see a family a house a family I see a house

I see sunshine sunshine shine I see a family a house i see sun

A summer's day it is a family a summer sun a house in the summer's day I see

A safe place to land to land a day a sun a house a family I see

I see blooming herbs herbs herbs blooming

I see fresh grass I see I see herb grass I see

I see birds and butterflies fresh grash birds above butterflies summer day I see

Everyone tries to keep up run the birds the sun

I see the house I see I see the house I see

I see the antiques sets antiques the house I see the family antiques

I see the prestin toys toys I see inside I see toys toys I see a family

I see the family again again again I see again

But then the scene to turns to black black black my eyes shut black i can't see

I see nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing I see nothing

For a time I see nothing

Until I see it all crumble crumble crumble house crumbles family crumbles i see

Until I see struggle struggle struggle struggle i see crumbles

Until I see disease struggle struggle disease crumbling disease i see disease

Until I see loss loss disease struggle disease isee

Could I have seen more more could i have seen my eyes shut I should have seen

The happy memories happy mermoinesI once had fill with me pity pity they fill they fill me

Now I feel sorrow sorrow I feel sorrow

I feel guilt guilt sorry guilt I feel

I feel confusion guilt guilty confusion

I feel anger confused guilt anger anger angry I feel

I feel regret my guilt regret regret I regret

I feel despair sorrow sorrow I feel sorrow despair

I feel misery

"The Image is the poet's pigment; the image is not an idea, it is a radiant node or cluster. A vortex through which, and from which, and into which ideas are constantly rushing. It is as true for painting and sculpture as it is poetry." -Ezra Pound

When honestly writing a poem, traditional use of stanzas and the correct way to seperate things doesn't cross my mind until the very last stages of the poem being written. The real struggle for me is getting my ideas down and expressing everything I feel. As an artist, it is sometimes be atypical so think in the constraints of something, but we always must it seems. To some degree. When I do get to the stage of organizing my writing it seems to always turn out to be helpful. As much as we are taught here to be imaginative, as creative as we can possibly be, we are also taught that clarity is key. To make things as clear as possible I tend to keep breaking up and creating stanzas as simple as possible. When a thought or idea is complete, so is this section of the poem.