luka

Well-known member
I write poetry for a living. Been a little over three years now. Been pretty good. Winter will be hard this year though,
 

luka

Well-known member
I'm the best in the world at what I do by a long long way. No one comes close. I'm exceptional. It's not just the writing it's the emotional intelligence. I'm a finely tuned instrument.
 

suspended

Well-known member
I bet you can't though I bet you can't even write a single line

Some subjects are just irreducible... larger than life, really... or verse
 

linebaugh

Well-known member
Every time Ive done one of those I feel Im in some unspoken battle of wits with the poet. Once the poet asked me to talk about myself so he could find a topic and I ended up getting a poem that went essentially 'heres things a stupid person is into' followed by everything I had just relayed to him
 

luka

Well-known member
Every time Ive done one of those I feel Im in some unspoken battle of wits with the poet. Once the poet asked me to talk about myself so he could find a topic and I ended up getting a poem that went essentially 'heres things a stupid person is into' followed by everything I had just relayed to him

good on you for stopping for them but I'm the only person in the world capable of doing this job correctly. Because I'm the only one that's not a gross hippy.
 

constant escape

winter withered, warm
I imagine an international coalition of gross hippy streetside poets that strategize how to disable Luka the Clean Meddler, their most wanted obstructor. Perhaps they've infiltrated the forum, trying to steal the secret recipes.
 

luka

Well-known member
I bet you can't though I bet you can't even write a single line

Some subjects are just irreducible... larger than life, really... or verse

i want to one day if I can do
it's just a question of
where we
plant the attention.
At the littoral
bladderwrack and clam shells
froth breaking waves green turning
to horizon. if we were to
launch off from
this platform
this place of
feet planted
into the
big
sea.

Subject to
trade wind
and deep
ocean dynamics
flotsam
& jetsam
again.

Driftwood
shoals of
aimless
again.

Could we
beach on
that
unexampled
shore.

Actually
cough up
that brine
&
breathe
that
unprecedented
air.

It is worse now than what it was
it is horror now beyond enduring
what we have gained is
exile
from what
not loved
at least was
known
and could be borne.

what we have now
is so much worse
than what we
hated.
 

constant escape

winter withered, warm
I don't think I'm yet able to appreciate the spatial element of the notation, the actual layout of the text. I mean, it does flow well, but I suspect theres more to it than that.
 
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