Bad Poetry? Oh Noetry!

Source: ToothPasteForDinner

There was a period in my life when my intended destiny was to publish a book of poetry, or two. I would think over a single sentence all day long. Although my ego needs were satisfied, because I knew the content, I never believed anyone else would comprehend. That was the dominant force that made me stop writing. Never ever could I give myself the courage, or the credit to bare all at the risk of having nobody internalize the words. So, I thought what better way to laugh in the face of my own ridiculous insecurity than comment on my old poems.

:

Context - Grade 10

Lightly sparked crimson

and streaming, gleaming gold

These fish nets won't ever be sold

Now:  This has to be about some ridiculous fish net stockings  I saw in a store and decided to  make aesthetic.

Stairwells that lead nowhere

Alleyways to paradise

Bells chime at the turn of the hour

They'll always ask questions

not wanting the answers

Now: I was intrigued by the idea of impossible pathways. Insert time motif, no further reference...sure. I greatly enjoyed amputating my sentences 
that was dramatic.

Our cold war 

was freezing

My glaciers were the first to erode

Now: I had a fight with someone,  probably just watched Ice Age, and done an assignment on the the Iron Curtain.

You went platinum

the profit running into the 

strainer

Perfectly initiated

Seemingly effortless

They'll commend you

the fastest to ever sell out

Now : This  poem was about a whorey girl with major daddy issues ditching me to be more popular and slutty.  Also strainer sounded like strain her, as she evidently did to my emotions. Ah, to be young.

Socks inside of socks

Now: My first incredibly artistic interpretation of properly folded socks.

Gargle and allude

Shake well before disposal  

Now: This poem appears inspired from a mouthwash label, a timeless muse. Really, it was about douchey guys in high school being vague and objectifying. The shake well before disposal is a play on words to the regular  food instruction. I intended for it to symbolize the inability for d-bags to open up, but rather mind fuck the hell out of you and then stop talking to you in Social class.

Lip stained skin and

clutched frame of mind

I don't want to, but I have

Now: This was about a guy I lead on for a while. I obviously felt a combination of self-righteousness and guilt about the situation. He told me 2 years later that he'd never forgotten about me, I  remember laughing out load . The confession was over FB chat. 

Context -2006

He'll rest on the seams

You've woven shut. 

Now: Although they seem like the best kind of friends and summer flings; Water-polo players have water on the brain and don't know how to treat me like another member of the human condition. Apathy is an art with this lot.

Drenched with laziness

signifying dirt

stepped on and tied

but never hurt. 

Now:  Ladies and Gentlemen, my Ode to the Shoelace.

You bear nothing with your gifts

foreign shifts and moonly howls

Don't you miss me too?

Now: I obviously didn't like this guy, but once we howled at the moon together. So I assumed he should yearn for me.

She's lonely

She needs me

from a place I need to be

The place that separates us  

distorted but clear

The continents seem so much smaller

on paper

so much closer in scale

Now: This poem still has great significance for me. It's about my best friend being deported, after living in Canada for 7 years and being my friend for 6 of them.  She currently lives in Ireland, and I miss her daily. This poem is a heartbroken interpretation of a map with two markings.

Into a false sense of literacy I, the inarticulate am rising.  

Now: This, fittingly enough was my take on my writing in 2007. 

I'm so adjective, I verb nouns.