if only i had written poetry
when i was a tumblr grrlie
i think i would have
killed on that platform
[eventually]
poetry about writing poetry
July 7, 2024
all these scraps of songs
portions of poems
i’ve written in fits and starts
bursts of energy
of creativity
of enlightened states of being
just to fizzle out
after one verse
one chorus
one instance
of what i truly want to say
and have nowhere to go
no how-to-end-it
no place to place my hat up on the wall and say
“i’m satisfied with my words”
June 17, 2024
stress
and apprehension
and it not feeling like
an actual opening
and the stories we tell ourselves
about ourselves
when i tell myself these stories
it’s to try to solidify
who i am
because i have no idea
i have no plan
~~~
does one good line
make a poem?
is this my style/my curse?
~~~
my poems are making little to no sense to me
this morning
but i’m still writing them
i’m still dilligently typing
words and phrases as they come
hoping to find some meaning
some
time
soon
May 16, 2024
if only i knew what i wanted to write about/
if only i didn’t start hundreds of poems
immediately after closing up the morning poetry page/
if only i could access all the unfinished lines in my mind
from last night and prior nights
going back years and decades
and mine them for inspiration for today
now
this morning//
but instead i find myself sitting and staring/
and hoping and despairing/
and writing about writing
and random morning things
[maybe, every few weeks, i should actively make morning poetry
into nighttime poetry
and see what happens
then]
May 5, 2024
my head is all over the place
which can make for interesting poetry
when i cannot follow one subject all the way through
but fifteen different thoughts have already sped through
my racing brain
but the sleep is also tugging
and i have no way of judging
which direction to go
or how much to write
or let go
or just let it be
as it is
in this mess that it is in
~~~
if i actually followed the stream of consciousness/
the different trains that blast off from
the one station of *my brain*
i still don’t think i’d have words for most thoughts —
‘high speed’ ‘ugh, typing’ ‘that beat’ ‘coffee’ ‘food’ ‘puppies’
none of those words tell a story
in the way i’d want my poetry to express —
how i called it a stream, but i feel like my thoughts are trains
holding all the context for each word within each car
but they blast off like high-speed rail, something i’d love to have in this
fucking country, and sometimes i’m on the train itself, but sometimes i’m left at the station
waiting for all the thoughts to come back to me, eventually
[hopefully whole, with some new passengers/context aboard]
~~~
i feel like the more i write
the worse my poetry ends up
and i don’t know what to do
or how to think
about that.
April 30, 2024
the drive to write is strong —
but what to write about
never seems to come along —
like i’m sitting at a type-writer
or a pen and paper notebook
and i am hovering above what
could very well be brilliant
imagery/alliteration/metaphor
and simile and allegory all
stuck together, but instead my
pen/finger tip just shudders,
the ache of keeping it up
too long as i wait, the heaviness
of the potential i feel in my
body mind and soul too much
too much for one little
writing utensil/blank screen
to hold, so instead i write
about nothing, i write about
wanting to write, i write over
and over again meta poems that
never seem to come to any sort
of fruition or resolution or
conclusion, and i continue
to write and write and write
and here i am again…
January 19, 2024
collect your thoughts
then spit them out
on a laptop
look at the dregs and see what it says
about you
about your past/present/future
read the spittle like tea leaves
and leave it alone for another day or two
to read them again
with a new eye
a new vibe
a new perception that perspective gives us
[i just want to know what my own brain
is thinking]
December 15, 2023
sometimes
sometimes
sometimes
i want the
aesthetic /
the vibe
of writing
pen and paper /
ink and quill /
notebook
and brain
and nothing
else, but
oftentimes
that is just
too much /
too hassle /
too out of my
abilities in
this world,
so i simply
vibe and vibe
and write
and write and
create in the
best way i
can — laptop
and fingers
and my brain
that simply
will not quit.
November 10, 2023
sometimes i write poetry for the page
tapering each line down just a
little bit lower so that
aesthetically it
pleases
and other times i compose rows and rows of possibilities in my head
waiting for the right syllable to fit in
and taste so good as it fills my mouth
with alliterative qualities
i can’t imagine life without
and rhymes and mines of tongue twisters
laying in wait, waiting to trip up an unsuspecting mouth
but it all settles into something that i can chew and spit spit spit
out
with a rhythm all of my own making
all of my own devising
all of my own words
humbly arriving
as they should
but
most of the time
i create for
both
November 9, 2023
i wish
i wish
i wish
i didn’t make myself cringe
with every thought or written word or
every kind of close to rhyme
i just want to create art
that doesn’t care about being art
[that is the purest kind]
kipventures 