Miscellaneous Poetry

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
-Jack Kerouac

There's not a lot you can write in a description about poetry. "Here's some words I wrote. Some of them rhyme. A lot of it's shit. But I hope you read it anyway." Poetry is the type of thing that needs no description, no introduction. It flares out of itself and reverberates off the edges of your screen, and you can feel it down the back of your throat. The good poetry leaves you breathless, and almost makes you feel like the writer left out something, somewhere, on the back page, to make it feel more complete. Because poetry, in all it's splendor and beauty and complexity, is one of the most incomplete art forms there is. It takes a lot to decide that you're ready to end your poem, and most of the time, you don't.

But that's the good poetry. This is just the scratched-out, not quite right, imbalanced and vague incongruence of bad poetry. But sometimes, people seem to like that just as much.