Do not decode these cries of mine, they are the road and not the sign

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Not Quitting My Day Job

My poetry is still exceedingly sub par. That's really ok. I like the process of writing it. Squeezing my brain around word choices. Laughing and groaning at my overblown, over emotional, output. I think if i were to go back to college i would take a poetry class, not so much reading but writing. Are those different classes? It would be the hardest class i ever took. I can't imagine trying to get one out, poetically speaking, in an academic environment.

The fact that my poems always suck seems so irrelevant to me. By the time i, or anyone else, is reading them, I have gotten all i need from them. Anything else at that point is just for fun. I wonder if poets ever feel the same way? Once you finish that piece, and you know you have gotten out what you had inside to say, does having someone else read it even matter?

Not that it isn't fun. Knowing someone else is seeing those silly things that you felt strong enough about to try and disguise on one hand, and show with uncompromising vulnerability with the other. It's kind of like emotional flashing. All these symbols and words being used to cover up your most naked feelings, with these rare moments of verbal lucidity to expose it all, before covering it just as quickly.

I guess that makes sense. Blogging, especially this king of blogging, is just emotional exhibitionism at it's heart.

I'm thankful for all my emotional voyeurs =)

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home