After Gwendolyn Brook's 'We real cool'. The original is supposed to describe a group of teenagers hanging out outside of a pool hall. It imagines these teenagers as rebels who proudly defy convention and authority—and who will likely pay for their behavior with their lives. It's quite a classic, and I've re-imagined it to have the teenagers all grown up in today's world, who after and despite all their youthful rebellion, end up working typical 9-5 jobs. They spend their lives fearing the law, cursing their fate, drinking away their frustration, but ultimately remain stuck in the same place because they refuse to do anything about it, in stark contrast their younger selves.
• Rereading is like coming home after a tiring, trying day to curl up by your favourite spot, doing nothing but watching a cascade of blanketed layers of rain patter down on everything that dares turn its nose up at the greying-at-the-edges clouds (old, but pregnant with purpose) as the downpour brightens everything up with …
the more i know, the more there is to know.
today, i will not have myself do things i don't want to dotoday, i will not berate myself for doing something i did not fully think throughtoday, i will skip making the pro-con and grab the chance before a piece of paper makes it too late for me totoday i will not hesitate to approach …
It’s time for me to go to sleep.
Started taking inspiration from the poem 'Poison tree' by William Blake, ended up with a poem that loosely (at most) resembles a vial of poison (it's the thought that counts, right?). #poem #poetry #blog
I stood at a cliff, forlorn and emptywherein my strange mind happened to ponderthat life is an unending wait for doomsdaypunctuated by moments of rare chance laughter presented was I in my wild foraychronicled by an unlikely partnerwith eyes the colour of wave-like greyof steely resolve, of the sea beyond her with a child's wonder …
This is something I wrote for an Instagram page. https://www.instagram.com/p/CCXZ9XJB9TR/?igshid=1ul19yq6urkxo (Text):In summer cries the wind that blewFor rains to flood the carnivalWhere seats on all the rides were two.When there was only room for one.
Tried blackout poetry for the first time! Blackout poetry didn't really make much sense to me the first time I saw it, but after reading through a bunch, I figured it's a pretty neat way of sneaking in poetry and super clever if done right. So here's my attempt at blackout poetry, compiled off of Murakami.
Why do we love going to the beach, sitting in the sand for hours, listening to the crashing waves? What is it about the brackish waters that make us forget everything and realise the meaning of 'living in the moment'? Do people who say they can spend their entire lives on the beach really mean it? I don't think so. We feel the calmness of the water because it's a break from the chaos in our lives. We feel the calmness because it's a break from the chaos in our minds. We feel the calmness because we are like hurricanes, like whirlpools, and the waters provide a serene complement to ourselves, despite ourselves.