the main difference
between men and women is sex
luck exists
words have a different meaning
EL SEBBO
Archive for September, 2007|Monthly archive page
What idiots and poets believe
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 28 September 2007 at 1:47 pmup all night
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 27 September 2007 at 6:26 amStayed up all night
to watch the sunrise
Only to find
the morning sky
covered thick
with clouds
And another day
gone
another night
another time
another life
but the same
me
D. James
Strange things you remember (or what poetry can be made of)
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 26 September 2007 at 6:00 amI remember that
in the summer
of 88
DJ must have had
the smallest room
in New York
closets full of books
and ghosts
Crossbones laughter
in the heat
EL SEBBO
little black holes
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 25 September 2007 at 7:29 amFalling through
an emotional hole
I no longer
see myself
for either who I am
or who I could be
Waiting around
for the day,
the hour
when it will make
some semblance of sense
when the world
and my life will
finally make peace
D. James
Air Force None
In art, bad haiku, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 24 September 2007 at 6:31 am757 isn’t a plane
it is a haiku
you uncultured morons
EL BASHO
The amazing poet that hides in my head and only comes out when no one is around
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 21 September 2007 at 6:14 amSomething about speed
velocity
and my mind
how quickly thoughts move
created and forgotten
before I can even write
them down
Moments of shear genius
(to me)
that I’m rarely ever
able to get right
on the page
So in my mind
I’m Frank O’Hara
I’m Pablo Neruda
I’m Jack fucking Kerouac
But on the page …
on the page
I’m a stumbling
bumbling
mumbling
clown
who can’t even spell
But in my mind …
in my mind
I’m the goddamn
demigod of poetic fire
If only …
If only I could live the
life in my head and
not the one
on the page of the world
D. James
Brand new poem in cellophane wrap (Never used before!)
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 20 September 2007 at 6:09 amIt goes like this
EL SEBBO
publishing blues in f-sharp
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 19 September 2007 at 7:21 amAt first they love it
“love it”
Then on second
reading there are
problems
“problems”
But they can be overcome
“with some work”
more work
another month of
edits
Then they don’t return your
phone calls
they disappear,
fall off the face of the earth
Repeat
shake
stir
rework
re-edit
but no redemption
for the sin of writing
D. James
Opiluo – To Jacques Roubaud
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 18 September 2007 at 6:39 amthe poet spoke about
jpnese haiku
it rained outside
EL SEBBO
“Down comes the night”
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 17 September 2007 at 3:33 amSunset
Dead-end job
driving alone
in the company van
All those miles
from home
Radio plays a song
from a long way back
Guitar sounds
“Listen to the wind blow
watch the sun rise”
And you are suddenly
awash in memories
Volume up to full now
“Damn your love
Damn your lies”
Pound the drumbeat
on the steering wheel
You are here
and there
at the same time
except now, unlike then,
you feel free
“Never break the chain”
D. James
(song lyrics lifted without permission … sue me)
Sky blues
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 14 September 2007 at 1:41 pmlooking for something in the sky
reflected in my eye in the sky
objects are larger than they appear
in the mirror of your soul
rickety-o
rocket to the moon
my heart slowly suffocates
like a sweet-eyed Laika
oh la-la-la
space conquest is a lonely business
that’s why all poets
are astronauts
doo-da-oh
my eye in the sky
telescope of love
and distant emotions
EL SEBBO
Tell it to me
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 13 September 2007 at 8:48 amLife is a
long story
Told in intervals
occasionally changing
direction
somewhat tangential
At worst, stagnant
At best
told in a rush
to someone who
knows exactly
what you mean
And you don’t
get to the end
until it’s over
D. James
What are friends for
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 12 September 2007 at 6:30 amThis morning
Death knocked at my door
That’s how I realized
my doorbell was broken
EL SEBBO
use your words
In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 11 September 2007 at 7:38 amNever thought there’d be
a loss for words
No-thing to say?
How can a poem
work without them?
Unsteady, unstable
unusual, unforgivable
Hand me a dictionary
end this fucking madness
D. James
The Return of the Prodigal Poet
In art, bad poetry, literature, poem, poetry, seb, writing on 10 September 2007 at 6:26 am
So I’m back
yackety yack
nearly broke my back
and really need some smack
El SEBBO
