Our weekly commentary on the news, in the form of poetry. By Curt Hopkins. Today’s column is particularly powerful. Curt was the founder of the Committee to Protect Bloggers.
Shane Koyczan crowd-funds his third book of poetry. In twelve hours. Now he’s at almost double the goal and it’s still not been up 24 hours.
some people get confused if a sentence does not end as they potato.
Quote reblogged from with 3,016 notes
Stare. It is the way to educate your eye, and more. Stare, pry, listen, eavesdrop. Die knowing something. You are not here long.
Don’t tell me women are not the stuff of heroes,
I alone rode over the East Sea’s winds for ten thousand leagues.
My poetic thoughts ever expand, like a sail between ocean and heaven.
I dreamed of your three islands, all gems, all dazzling with moonlight.
I grieve to think of the bronze camels, guardians of China, lost in thorns.
Ashamed, I have done nothing; not one victory to my name.
I simply make my war horse sweat. Grieving over my native land
hurts my heart. So tell me; how can I spend these days here?
A guest enjoying your spring winds?
WANT: Varsity Ninja Turtle $85 Out of the shell of darkness, hope has unfurled, The Varsity Ninja Turtle, here to save the world! Fighting the bad guys in sewers, on streets, In neon green head, to neon green feet.
CHARLES BUKOWSKI: Roll the Dice.
Sometimes, fandom, I worry about you.
»letter to a poet«
I met a man who makes meals at a restaurant
where there’s no menu
but everything’s on it
but I met a man who makes meals at a restaurant
called death row
I met a man who makes the last meals
and I know way too many people
who would attack him asking him how it feels
to be part of something like that
so instead we just chew the fat
and I listen
he tells me about a 31-year-old boy
a 31-year-old boy
who was sentenced at the age of 22
waited nine years on death row
and last week was his turn
so he asked for sourdough french toast
and a side of magic beans
because a boy would rather face down a giant
take his chances with a beanstalk
than walk down that hall
where every footfall echoes into that oblivion
where every experience never had congregates
to create a world never lived in
a boy could find himself asking for things like magic beans
and a cook find himself understanding what it means
to be desperate
Shane Koyczan was killing time in a bar at 11am, a huge bar, 200 chairs, and totally empty. This guy comes in, sits down at the bar right beside him, and orders four whiskies. Shane figures the guy must have a story, and this is the story he told.
“He was an isolated person. As a young man, he stretched out his hand to Beauty and Love and they thrust it away. Gradually he reduced reality to exclude all but his work, filling the gaps with alcohol. He was also a solitary person. Years of traveling alone around the world with his juggling act taught him the value of solitude and the release it gave his mind. He abhorred bars, nightclubs, parties, and other people’s houses. He seems to have left no diaries, letters, no serious autobiographical material. Most of his life will remain unknown. But, as Ruskin said, the history of no life is a jest.” -Louise Brooks on W.C Fields in Lulu in Hollywood (1971 &1982)
That’s a pretty amazing Ruskin quote at the end of a pretty amazing and insightful paragraph by Louise Brooks
In the novel or the journal you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival.
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