As my English Teacher always Said
Goulet
Posts: 918
Hey look out for that dinosaur he's got tricky eyes and a craning neck and uses his tail feathers as some sort of weapon or some sort of sexual devise and then look at the back corner of teh room and explain how it is that Jules Verne is back there spinning a web of deceit and laughing at us all because he's got an invisible train that travels to the center of the moon and then out into your eardrum and borroughs into the anal cavity that your lover left behind but he isn't so nice and doesn't wash you off in the shower because he's a selfish lover and a mean bitter person and cna't grasp the concept of what it is to be a real man so you better take off your golloshes and put on your sweater and run a five mile derby race that makes you sweat and sweat and think about how you are a failure and won't ever finish anything you start look out for rambling sentences that seem to never end he said and always use lots of semi-colons and semi-trucks and get a colonoscopy and a penile implant and you'll be set for life and blonde girls with heaving bossums will flock to you and want you and horde the man that you have become because of teh bulge in your pants and then you begin to realize what a waist all of that is and what a waist all of this writing and singing and music crap is and what a waist everythign is so you begin to float around the planet and let teh wind take you wherever it wants because teh wind and trees are the only two sane things on teh planet and you love both those things so much trees standing tall and stern and never moving in teh wind or for anyone even the cold-cold winter and the cold-cold frost and all the rag-tag christmas lights all over and even hacking axes that have a cold-cold bite of steel and pain trees don't yell or scream or mutter any sort of complaint about their lives and the wind just blows and blows and blows but only when it wants too so you go on and forget everything and everyone else and start writing in long unpunctuated unparagraphed uncontrollable burps of words and it feels good but is just a horrible way to write and someday soon you realize that and you put your feet back down on the ground or into the ground and you start rewriting your life and it feels damn good and feels like a damn good time to start smoking cigarettes and drinkig coffee and growing old and writing your obituary for fun or writing your suicide note for kicks and your hair turns a golded grey and you shuffle off into life a peice of wind.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
Mine only said "Show, don't tell."
"get out"!
never understood him.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
"Take to the Ocean, learn to play fiddle, and begin at your endings and then you'll know how to live."
needless to say i never learned how to play fiddle or any of that other garbage and now i think i'm a big liar and nothing i ever wrote was true
think about it...
Sal? is that you?
ok so i was referring to how you sound like jack kerouac goulet attack.
i enjoyed this very much. i can write like this too but its often a challenge to start myself on someones long blocks of thoughts and starts this is how they taught us to write in screenwriting. we started with start lines and went on and on and i liked how you refered to the trees because i can always go to the symbol of a tree to makes sense of something i am feeling and you climbed into a tree in this one and wrote on the back of whatever you could find with you.
thanks
no, sorry
my name is this --> AF with some other letters also,
but not Sal, sorry
at the beginning of
decide
isn't the same as
the de
at the end of
decide
--AR AMMONS said something like that
and i can't believe i didn't get the reference to Sal Paradise
damn i feel like Literary failure
that's ok, last week it would have gone in one ear and out as they say...
i have had that book on my shelf for 6 years now and just finished reading it this week. got it from somebody who got it from somebody who left it in a bus station on the east coast.
better later loser than a never read it or care to read it loser.
l
well i think i was right,
i am the Best Poet Ever,
well i think i was right?
cat scratch fever
cat scruntch beaver
chicken scrath hoover
mitch chumpeck lover
rich chimpmunk fever
rich chimpmunk fever
i had this dream once where i was a ketchup packet and teh world was my hot dog and i loved hot dogs because they're made from everything just like in Hinduism and Buddhism and i love it when i'm like a religion and can dictate to myself all teh wonderous planets and worlds in teh space out in teh sky and in teh dream i was smoking heroine, yeah smoking it, and i got so happy that i took a dive off a trampoline that was 600 feet in the air and i dove right into a squash field and surprsingly teh sound i made was not "SQUASH!" but rather "Oh, hi how are you?" and then i started talking to my 4th grade teacher about orienteiring and then we had sex becasue we were both of age and she was very hot and womanly and after all that nonsense i decided my life needed something a little more real so i dropped some acid and took some tranquilizers and read the Bible and went to sleep before i got to the part about Jesus and i dreamt about being a Jew and how that could have made my life so much different then it was in my previous dream so i woke up feeling refreshed in knowing that i had confused myself and now i felt like eating a brussel sprout so i found a blonde girl and she took down her pants and i took down mine and we sat down to a nice liitle lunch with everyone one watching a marveling at us and then Alan Ginsburg showed up and tapped me on the shoulder and said i was doing it all wrong so he showed me how to do it and that made me very comfortable and relaxed and i felt i learned something about myself and really that was where it got too confusing and explicit and good so i woke up.
part of the reason i'm so fucked up is that there's these things called "brain chemicals" and those "brain chemicals" don't always fire in the way they're supposed to so i go around and look into windows and mirrors and see things that aren't there or that are there but i see them different not skewed or horizontal-like but just like they're looking back at me in a kind of harsh way as if to say "go get a job loser" but then i can turn around and i see your smiling smiling face and it looks like your pecan pie is happy and i want some but you're too tired so we could hold each other instead so we do and the toppsee turvee world is blanketed in rainfall and sunnyshine and clouds all over at teh same time and i start seeing whiskered walruses and they aren't to happy with me for laughing at the fact that they are fat and have tusks i wish i had tusks or at least soem confidence in myself.
i feel like that all the time
Brain Chemicals screw me over. drugs save me. A desperate, solitary existance governed by fantasy, missed oppourtunities, and thought- a horrible mixture, to be honest.
Ishmael is right. It's time for change. The gorilla is our savior, if we listen to him. My English teacher showed me the world of Ishmael. I thank him for that piece of knowledge.
and punch myself in the face
and how to look myself in the mirror and accept that i'm good
but i forgot all that a few years back
i think
dreaming about being exposed to a waterfall for the first time in my life and the waterfall was in ohio and it was so TALL and i was a giant too and my feet were size 17 and i couldn't find any shoes but didn't really need any and i couldn't find anyone to love me either except a beautiful-beautiful blonde girl with a flowing head of hair and a top hat and a cane and she loved to spell my words correctly in Old English and we would go to movies at movie theatres but not watch teh movies because we were too in love and it was a magnetic love so magnetic that the tilt of the earth and the tilt of the sun were thrown for a loss and the moon came crashing down but i caught it in my eyelid and then i went to sleep and dreamt a long and flowering dream about living in a desert and eating cactus milk for breakfast until cactus milk was extinct and then i had to move to teh Big City and fend for myself with all teh men with suits and beautiful women with breasts and i wasn't so happy anymore and then my lovely-lovely beautiful-beautiful blonde girl woke me up in a sexually exciting way which was gratifying and sweaty and wet and then i hugged her and woke up.
in one dream one time i was SO FULL of energy that i was a natural disaster and i was devastating and everyone hated me becasue i knocked down their houses but i never meant to do it and when my head started to hurt i said i was sorry and then Pirate Pete made me walk off a divig board that was placed at the top of a tall-tall building with a swimming pool 600 stories below and he had one of those big samuri swords and was poking me in the eye becaseu i didn't like mummies and his brother was a mummy and if i hadn't collasped i would have been pushed to my doom but i collapsed and was taken in the loving arms of a Big Breasted Big City woman with Blonde hair to the nearest hospital and i went to sleep and dreamt about candy canes and other phallic shaped objects and how people always seem to put things like tha tin their mouths and i laugh a little in my dream and then fell asleep in my dream-dream and was surrounded by men with Butcher masks and robes of purple and pink stripes and i got a little frightened and they gave me many colored pills and spoke in soft wispy French accented British voices so that i was soothed and made to feel confortable and then i slept a long sleep and dreamt of having intercourse with a gold medallion and a Brunette girl and a Red-headed man which was strange because i had never had sex with a Brunette girl before and everyone was very giving and i got many presents after it was over things like blankets made of gold yarn and baskets weaved with gold twine and golden apples and golden shoes and clothes but i liked the silver eyeglasses that i got the best and i thanked everyone for everything and that's when i was back to being pushed off a glacier in Greenland by a mob of seals with rubber beach balls.
Gou-ey
remember when you told me about that dream you had, Andrew, and you said that you were falling and falling and falling and as you fell it got so boring that you went to sleep in your own dream and in that dream you were falling and falling and falling and your arms were flapping in the wind and your clothes were making that rippling sound that clothes make when you fall out of somethign or off of something and that sound because it's so repetitive made you blink your eyes unitl they were shut and youstarted dreaming about South Caroline Street and how that was such a wonderful place to be and safe and you went there all the time and saw rising suns and moons and everythign was an eclipse and your eyes were black and darker then the Hazel that they are and everyone loved your black eyes especially teh Sandy Blonde Girl who loved you for other reasons too and your life was set and okay and you couldn't stand the thought of death because you were going to start a farm and live in the country and grow apples ten times bigger then teh apples on the Forbidden Tree of Eden and then sell them for five hundred dollars for one crate of then and only two apples would fit in one very large crate and then after a sale you would have enoumous amounts of sexual intercourse with teh Sandy Blonde Girl and She would be wearing her Cheerleader outfit and She would moan really loud but you didn't feel cliche at all and you woulf fall asleep next to her and start dreaming and in that dream teh Sandy Blonde Girl broke your heart and told you to go to hell because you loved her too much or something like that so you moved to teh Big City were everything is so dim and dark and your eyes became your Hazel color again with light brown ringed with a green like teh grass is in March and you were Wide Eyed and started listening with your Ears instead of other parts of your body and you could walk into art museums and watch Dinosaur Bones move slowly down Third Avenue and take pleasure in both but not much pleasure in love or lust and you started to think this dream a nightmare and when you thought that you couldn't wake up or didn't want to because it was still better then falling or falling with your arms waving or falling in love so you're just so content and you seem to enjoy writing poetry or at least it enjoys writing you and sometimes you think you'd like to wear a derby hat and play the part of Jesus because that seems to be where you're headed.
falling apart isn't so bad
i wouldn't be here in the poetry hut
or anywhere close to anything i am
if love hadn't fallen apart for me
but then again maybe i would because its fate
everything that we know of though
falls apart
we are born
and then we die
we fall in love
and even if you stay in love you die
so that falls apart
really only two things are guarenteed
one is life
and the other is death
everything else is up in the air
and that doesn't seem so bad
from grace
for love
to pieces
its the impact that scares me most
like 'they' say if you have that dream of falling and falling and falling....you should never dream of hitting the ground. i have - almost as many times as i can recall the falling dream and i'm not dead yet i don't think. but i'm still not so jaded by the experience that
i forget to remember to be just a little scared of
what will happen this time or the next.
the impact i mean.
think of it this way:
life is so short and so imperfect and so hard,
but when you die you're dead forever...
it's like you become immortal in death
unless you belive in reincarnation,
but that eventually has an end
when you find Enlightenment
or become Brahma
or whatever your mind can think up...
everything has an end
until you become that which has no end
and really weren't you always that thing
because if you become something
you have to stop being that thing eventually...
my head hurts
i press my patience with my right hand and out of my head comes a block of red rubbarb and some twirling dancers from Bohemia who dance in explicit was nd make my organs grow and churn like an old butter churning device that cause many a cold night in the 1600's to turn into many a hot night in teh 1600's and cause many a Romantic poet to be born so i think it was the right decision to collapse into the arms of a strange girl i didn't know and look into her beautiful dark cow-eyes and through her beautiflu dark-rimmed glasses that turn me on so much and tell her that she was beautiful and i wanted to make love to her for hours of at least until i got my rocks off oh i feel so cliche just like a pirate probably always does and i'm sure his parrot tells him so and i'm sure his mother is dissappointed that he didn't become a doctor or a lawyer or something respectable because he doesn't even come home for Christmas and doesn't even call on Sundays and he kills people from time to time and plunders their riches oh i forgot i'm having this kind of episode today where my forehead feels like its moving in a forewards direction ahead of everything else that's attatched to me.
please
you are a sneaky hider
i am a happy phanom....its part and parcel of the occupation
on my cheek i sometimes feel a prick-prick-prick and a rub-rub-rub and i laugh a little and get sad a little and stare at trees a little and think they know too much and that's why we cut them down and i go on long trips across teh USA and across the continental divide adn the mason dixon line and all teh way to mexico where i stop and look back and say, "Fuck it" and i move on and shuffle my feet and stare at teh passers-by who are staring at me because they think they see somethign or something is prick-prick-pricking or rub-rub-rubbing on their soft cheeks or their over-grown beards or their sensuous nipples and they smile and laugh and get sad and start to think about become a giant among men or a giant among gods or just becoming the wind and becoming a hurricane or a tornado or a horrible downpour of rain and then they could wash themselves down all teh drainpipes of teh world and hoist the planet up on their back and be proud and feel accomplished and know that they are needed but never thanked and that is good enough.
phantom wanders about through a day and a life extracting the true essence from the skins of things. our most humble moments, our most brilliant moments, the moments that make us less than proud. all are beautiful and perfect and wonderous in their way when we look upon them without judgement.
its something that most of us seek - someone to love us for what we are warts and beauty marks and bruises and shining hearts and scars and gentle souls.