Monday, November 17, 2008

Legions of the Undead


 

Winter months approach quickly, without fail.
  See energy travels from hot too cold.
My blood is drained, and as I grow more pale,
  Someone makes money when my blood is sold.
What don’t kill us only makes us stronger.
  You, wishing they would not gang up on, you.
One fist hits harder, their arms reach longer.

  You’re strong, don’t patronize one of the few.

Think of new ways to change your self, just ‘cause.
  You think that God knows these men with hard times?
It’s not as easy as it looks because,
  When I do stop the man who spends the dimes.

But I don’t understand this tough guy talk. 
It only seems to make it worse, to walk. 

Chef's House

Matthew Antonelli

November 8, 2008

Carver’s Chef’s House

New Ending

 

I had been waiting for this time, but was never sure when it was coming.  Chef got out of his car and walked up the stone path, like a soldier, delivering bad news.  I ran from my seat in the window to greet Chef before Wes could.  I ushered him in and offered him a cool lemonade.  Wes made his way in, after a few minutes, and sat adjacent to Chef.  Chef clenched his old hat like a wet drag he couldn’t get dry. 
            What’s the matter Chef, Wes asked as I came back to join them, did someone die?

            I’m going to need you to leave my house Wes, Chef said without enjoyment. 

            I could see in his eyes that tears were not the only thing Chef was holding back.  Wes looked confused like Chef hadn’t spoke clear English.

            Did we offend you Chef?  He asked, did we do something wrong?

            Chef could only answer with a headshake and the faint whisper of the name Linda.  Wes and I both knew Linda was Chef’s portly daughter who was fondly referred to as Fat Linda.  I couldn’t imagine why Linda had any say in our living arrangement.
            Chef slowly pulled out a picture from his pocket.  The large women stared back almost sarcastically.  You see, Chef said, Linda has not only lost her family and her money, but she has lost her mind.  I need to let Linda move in here, she’s my blood.
            Wes and I exchanged glances and I bowed my head and retreated to the kitchen.  My hands were shaking and my brow was moist with sweat.  I cracked open a can of Pepsi and let the fizzy syrup hiccup into my nose.  I knew Wes would try to appeal to Chef’s kindness and work out some sort of arrangement, but I needed to work on Plan B.  I began rustling through the hall closet at the bottom of the stairs.  I knew it was it there.
            Chef!  This can’t be the end, where are we to go, Wes pleaded in the living room.  This is what we know as our home, Edna and me have never been happier.
            Wes, Chef said with convincing conviction, I love you and Edna, but you need to be out by the end of the month.  If you can make it work here, it’ll work in the city.  Now, regretfully I really must be going.
            Wait, I yelled, as I threw some crackers on a plate with a hunk of cheese.  I decided it was my turn for negotiations, call it my womanly charm.  I carried the platter out and sat it down in front of Chef, with a smile. 

            Edna, this looks lovely but I really don’t…
            Please Chef, just stay for a minute, I have something to show you.
            And with a whisper to Wes I disappeared behind the fireplace.  I covered my ears and sealed my eyes, I knew it wouldn’t take long.  After feeling a thud through my socked feet, I appeared from my hiding place.  Wes was sweating and gave me a cold stare.  I grabbed their drinks and brought them to the kitchen to refresh them.  I hope he never told Fat Linda the address.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Clementine Missing Children Poster

-The young buy ate a clementine while reading a missing child poster.

-My mom finished her clementine and as she poured milk in her coffee she noticed the missing child poster, on the milk.

-When I was interning at the Police Department, my clementine dripped onto a stack of missing child posters.

-The boy on the missing child posters loved to eat clementines every morning.

-The old missing child poster peeled off the brick-wall like the skin of a clementine.

-"If you spent half as much time working as you did eating clementines, we wouldn't even need these missing children posters."

-The kidnappers brow dripped sweat like juice from a clementine, as he noticed the missing child poster.

-The pedophiles clementine fists clenched tighter as a man hung another missing child poster.

-The hue of the hot summer sun made the walls, plastered with missing children posters, sweat like a clementine.

-The thick, almost fuzzy texture of the Missing child poster reminded me of the inside of a clementine peel.  

"Invasion"

Matthew Antonelli

 

 

A planet can only survive on it’s own resources for so long.

The thousands of years humans have exerted strain on our planet has brought us to this dark day.  The exponential growth of global warming, hurricanes destroying entire coastlines, and the obvious fact that our natural resources are dwindling, are matters everyone faces on a day-to-day basis.  I am here to propose an answer.   As we look to the future, not only for ourselves, but also for the lives of our children, we only have one option left.  We as inhabitants of this great planet must turn to our technology to guide us through the stars to a beacon of hope. 

 

Through great leaps in space exploration technology, we have found evidence of a sister planet a mere 20.5 light years a way.  In the past this voyage would not have been possible, however we now have perfected spacecrafts capable of light speed propulsion.  Through the use of these vehicles we will transport highly trained scientists to this new planet.  Said planet will hereon be referred to as GL-581 c, C for short.  The distance is significant and will not only take extensive training and expertise, but courage and pride.


As we have been preparing for this voyage for quite some time, we are aware of C’s significantly less gravity, in addition to a much slower orbit.  These factors have all been taken into consideration as we prepare to embark on the most significant space exploration in the history of the world.  We all look to you for support and trust in this most demanding time.  I cannot promise results from this daring mission, I can only promise strength, devotion, and will power.

GL-581 c has been studied for years; we know there is similar temperatures and possible water.  For these reasons we are to believe this host planet will be able to offer us natural resources, familiar and hopefully groundbreaking.  As this mission could possible be fruitless we do not consider this a solution, only an attempt for a better life.  We hope to gain enough resources to be able to supply major countries with power for many decades to come.  As this poses only a potential, temporary fix we encourage everyone to continue their work in fighting global warming and the production of synthetic fossil fuels. 

 

This monumental discovery and experimental research will mark history as the first inter-galactic voyage.  We hope for the best, yet I wish to reiterate the importance of all the work being done around the world.  This work is equally if not more important than this manned mission.  In the next few months our astronauts will prepare for this life-changing event and begin this exciting voyage.  I welcome and appreciate the world’s support; let us all hope everything goes to plan.  Thank you.

 

 

“Did the see the speech tonight?” I asked, with a some what annoyed tone.

“Is there anything besides a potential, temporary fix?  I feel like the government just keeps pushing us towards total destruction.  First, the destruction of New York, then London, and now Miami, all in one year.  Now crazy trips to alien planets?” 

By her silence, I could tell my girlfriend was getting annoyed. I could hear a faint laugh track in the background.  So to avoid an argument I asked, in a genuine way, “What’s on TV this late babe?”

I heard some rustling on the other end and she told me it was late and she was going to bed, she said we would talk in the morning. 

 

I needed a cigarette and to feel cool air on my face, I had to get out.  The road in front of my complex looked wet, but I didn’t hear it rain. 

“Random 5 minute rain storms”, I thought to myself, “I hope there’s not another hurricane.”

Fear had overtaken everyone’s disposition.  This is the one thing everyone could agree on, fear.  Well, fear and minimal use of electricity.  Loosing control over my surroundings had become a bleak reality.  Everything was government monitored.  There was nothing left to use, there wasn’t any open land, everything was a vast wasteland.  In my heart I hoped this inter-galactic mission would prove to be worth the effort, but my mind kept telling me not to get my hopes up.

As I ashed my cigarette I couldn’t help but stare up at the stars, basking in my own inferiority.  Are there really answers out there?  I guessed no one was listening so, I decided to turn in for the night.  As I kicked off my boots and crumbled into bed I realized the end may be near, and the hope for this entire planet would rest on this approaching mission.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            The sunlight burned though my blinds, awakening me during a somewhat unsettling dream.  I had heard last night that we drifted into orbit surrounding the foreign planet.  My mixed feelings regarding this whole mission crept into my dreams…

“What do I do with this?” I asked a soldier standing in front of me.  “Who do I aim at?”

            It was as if I was watching a movie, I saw myself standing there, yet I still controlled my voice. 

The green beret turned towards me and grunted, “well who is the enemy?”. 

Standing before me was a primitave looking human, dressed in animal skins.  The second was what appeared to be a man from my planet, a few hundred years ago.
            “I want him to die.”  I said with feigning conviction. Even I was unconvinced of the authority in my voice.  I raised the weapon and just as I began to pull the trigger…
           

I looked to the media for some sort of update on the mission.  I only found the same information I had heard last night, that we were in orbit.  Looking to unearth new information or at least anything relevant I called my girlfriend.
            She answered in a surprisingly upbeat tone, “Hey hun, sorry about last night, I was exhausted, but I bet this will interest you.”
            Knowing of my need to know everything and stay current, we both knew she left me itching.  She went on, “Well it seems that the first images of the planet’s surface have been sent back.  I hear the environment is remarkably similar to ours, there are even signs of life.”
            I couldn’t believe what she was saying, “You mean to tell me that there is a good chance of alien life on this planet?”
            “Whoa now, I said there are signs of life, nothing is proven yet.”
            My mind was reeling, maybe this
could be the answer to our crisis, maybe our planet would be saved after all.  “Im coming over,” I told her, “I want to see what your reading.”  The truth was I just wanted to analyze every detail, not that I didn’t trust her, I just knew her tendency to “summarize”.


















The image circulating around everyone’s devices was the first image taken on the alien planet.  Everyone had seen it, heard about it, and was discussing it.  This was monumental, the first image of our intergalactic astronauts, this became a symbol of hope for our dieing planet.  Everyone clung to that photo, as if it was evidence that we were to survive.  The background of the picture was amazing, there were lush forests, exotic birds, and plenty of flowing water.  The article accompanying the photo said there were to be many landings on this planets surface, this was just the first.  Due to the distinctive range of ecosystems we found during orbit, the government has proceeded with 14 landing sights.  The planet itself seemed an oasis of what our great planet once was.  People began to speculate that moving there would be the best decision, not just “borrowing” their resources.
             I was forced to stop reading when I heard a commotion.  There was some sort of disturbance in the front of the bus, “most likely a patron that didn’t or couldn’t pay”, I thought.  I only wished it could have been that easy.  As I began to turn back to the photograph I was suddenly thrown from my seat as the bus halted to a stop.  A man with a gun began yelling to all of us. 

“The end is near!  Don’t you see?  The past only repeats itself!  We are all doomed!  How can you sit here and ignore the facts?”  Another one of these guys, a man who I personally resented, his rantings de-legitimizing genuine concern.  It took about two more steps for the mouthpiece to be cracked in the back of the skull.  By this time a crowd had gathered around us, inviting a cop into our proceedings.  The man was detained and suffered from a minor bruise to the skull. 

After describing to the officer my eyewitness account I needed something to eat.  As I was walking a new article was posted.  The new information relayed that not only had the astronauts made contact with many animal species, there appeared to be traces of human-esque life.  The fact of the matter was, as the spacecraft began a close dissent to the planets surface, there was a blurred, scattered image; like ants reacting to a moved trash bin.  This sighting confused the scientists, yet there was nothing seemingly worth investigating.  However, now as they progressed through more of the land, there were definite signs of fire, and primitive tools. 

I stopped dead in my tracks.  New alien life forms?  What would they look like?  Would they have any form of intelligence?  I kept questioning, yearning for answers, and within seconds Dani was calling me.

“Hey babe, did you se…”

“Yes I saw, are you freaking?  I knew you’d be freaking!  Could this really be true?”

Half expecting this exact response I answered, “Well calm down Dani, there’s no way to prove this just yet, these men are talking about something millions of miles away.”
            “Oh always the practical voice, huh, Jeremy?  Well for once, I will be irrational!  This could change everything!  Maybe the planet could stabilize our life, and we could start over, the right way.”

“That will never happen.”
            “Well maybe someone needs to say something, this is the time for you to raise your voice.”  She left her comment at that, but I knew it was a stab at my unsuccessful plan for distributing resources a few years ago.

“Well maybe someone else needs to use her platform, so that we are not sneered at, and we get the right attention.”  I wanted her help last time, but she was new and feared a rigid political stance could jeopardize her career.  But now, she had been there for years, she was a voice in the political system, a quite, meek voice, but I could change that.  We planned to meet for dinner and to discuss where to go from here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had no dreams last night, I barely slept.  One of my eyes was slightly open, hoping for the familiar glow of an updated browser.  Then it happened, the morning came and there it was.  A legitimate news article describing our first interaction with other intelligent life forms.  The scarred heard of insects that was seen from space, was none other then fleeing primitive men.  A scared, yet proud group had finally sent there strongest to communicate with us. 

I began to think of what these people must have thought.  Fleeing for their lives from this giant metal bird.  God-like creatures with giant heads descending from the sky.  I could only image the fear and confusion they must have felt.
            “Apparently once they made contact our men choose one as their king, he would act as messanger.  But once this information was released the government demanded on no contact until further notice”, I could hear her heart beating in her mouth, I could almost feel it beating against my ear drum.

“I’ve been working, so no I didn’t hear the latest”, she tried to say with confidence.  “Why don’t you do something constructive with your time.”

“Dani!  This is not the time for the ‘Jeremy get a job speech’, don’t you realize what this means?  We are not alone, right now we are one of two life supporting planets, but with these facts, we are on the brink of a million!”

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

All poetry

Matthew Antonelli

October 14, 2008

All Poetry

James Wright will forever be remembered for being a member of the Academy of American Poets and for receiving the Pulitzer Prize in poetry for his Collected Poems.  Wright was born in Martins Ferry, Ohio on December 13, 1927.  Wright joined the army after high school and was stationed in Japan during American occupancy.

After having graduated from Kenyon College, Wright married Liberty Kardales.  Wright earned his master’s degree at the University of Washington.  Not only was he an accomplished teacher but he also had many published works.  His works were modeled after Robert Frost, often used as a medium to discuss his political and social views.  Wright received his Pulitzer in 1971 and passed away in 1980, while in New York City.

Wright is an accomplished author with many published works, including his poetry:

Above the River: The Complete Poems (1992)

Collected Poems (1971)

Moments of the Italian Summer (1976)

Saint Judas (1959)

Shall We Gather at the River (1969)

The Branch Will Not Break (1963)

The Green Wall (1957)

The Lion's Tail and Eyes: Poems Written Out of Laziness and Silence (1962)

This Journey (1982)

To a Blossoming Pear Tree (1977)

Two Citizens (1973)

 

He also has a collection of prose:

Collected Prose (1983)

 

And many published anthologies:

Neruda and Vallejo: Selected Poems (1971)

Poems by Hesse (1970)

The Rider on the White Horse by Theodor Storm (1964)

Twenty Poems of César Vallejo (1962)

Twenty Poems of Georg Trakl (1961)

Twenty Poems of Pablo Neruda (1968)

Wandering: Notes and Sketches by Hesse (1972)

 

Wright’s works tend to reflect common themes.  Often times his works surrounds itself with powerful imagery that captivated the reader.  He uses strong descriptions, which are effective at drawing out emotions.  Wright also presents the idea that we are all just men, a bleak reality of death and sorrow.  Yet he does say man can control their surroundings and being strong and holding power will help distinguish you from animals.  His work is often masking the true meaning behind his writing.  He uses these poems to highlight how he views society and nature.

 

Imagistic: The Blessing

We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

Where they have been grazing all day, alone.

They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness

That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.

There is no loneliness like theirs.

 

Power: On the Skeleton of a Hound

Scatter this hulk about the dampened ground;

And while the moon rises beyond me, throw

The ribs and spine out of their perfect shape.

For a last charm to the dead, I lift the skull

And toss it over the maples like a ball.

Strewn to the woods, now may that spirit sleep

That flamed over the ground a year ago.

 

 

Fascination with Death: A Poem About George Doty in the Death House

Close to the wall inside,

Immured, empty of love,

A man I have wondered of

Lies patient, vacant-eye.

A month and a day ago

He stopped his car and found

A girl on the darkening ground,

And killed her in the snow.

 

Despair: Fear is What Quickens Me

Many animals that our fathers killed in America

Had quick eyes.

They stared about wildly,

When the moon went dark.

The new moon falls into the freight yards

Of cities in the south,

But the loss of the moon to the dark hands of Chicago

Does not matter to the deer

In this northern field

 

Helplessness:             At the Executed Murderer's Grave

Staring politely, they will not mark my face

From any murderer's, buried in this place.

Why should they? We are nothing but a man.

 

James Wright’s poetic work would classify him as a Confessionalist.  This means he uses his own life experience to influence and deliberate his poetry.  Wright has served in the Vietnam War and has used his voice he gained in the war to discuss American issues.  He also saw the line between rural American and modern-urban American.  He often uses his voice to walk the reader through a moment of realization. 

Members of the Confessionalist group write as Wright is described.  They mask realities and tell their story through a veil, but from a real perspective.  These writers do not just tell you what they have learned; they use their writings to walk the reader through the idea.  This is an exact definition of Wright and how he helps the reader come to realizations on their own. 

 

There is a poet Robert Hass who is a self-proclaimed follower of James Wright.  He often reflects American politics in his work.  Both artists also stretch the character of the American Hero to be all encompassing of emotions, from low to high.  Hass was born March 1, 1941 in San Francisco, CA.  Hass has produced publications from the early ‘70’s until the present.

James Wright was very influenced by famed American port Robert Frost.  He mimics Frost’s style of using poetic language to disguise a societal voice.  Frost was born March 26, 1874 also in San Francisco, CA.  Both poets discuss the “ruralness” of American and have “behind the scenes pessimistic and menacing tones.”  Frost released work from the 1920’s until he passed away in the ‘60’s.

 

Michael Palmer was born on May 11, 1943 in Manhattan, New York.  Palmer began actively publishing poetry in he 1960’s.  He is known for his attendance of the Vancouver Poetry Conference of 1963.  He has also gained his reputation be editing the journal Joglers. 

Palmer has had many poems published, but he also has a few novels.

Poetry

Plan of the City of O, Barn Dreams Press (Boston, MA), 1971.

Blake's Newton, Black Sparrow Press (Santa Barbara, CA), 1972.

C's Songs, Sand Dollar Books (Berkeley, CA), 1973.

Six Poems, Black Sparrow Press (Santa Barbara, CA), 1973.

The Circular Gates, Black Sparrow Press (Santa Barbara, CA), 1974.

(Translator, with Geoffrey Young) Vicente Huidobro, Relativity of Spring: 13 Poems, Sand Dollar Books (Berkeley, CA), 1976.

Without Music, Black Sparrow Press (Santa Barbara, CA), 1977.

Alogon, Tuumba Press (Berkeley, CA), 1980.

Notes for Echo Lake, North Point Press (Berkeley, CA), 1981.

(Translator) Alain Tanner and John Berger, Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000, North Atlantic Books (Berkeley, CA), 1983.

First Figure, North Point Press (Berkeley, CA), 1984.

Sun, North Point Press (Berkeley, CA), 1988.

At Passages, New Directions (New York, NY), 1995.

The Lion Bridge: Selected Poems, 1972-1995, New Directions (New York, NY), 1998.

The Promises of Glass, New Directions (New York, NY), 2000.

Codes Appearing: Poems, 1979-1988, New Directions (New York, NY), 2001. Notes for Echo Lake, First Figure, and Sun together in one volume.

(With Régis Bonvicino) Cadenciando-um-ning, um samba, para o outro: poemas, traduções, diálogos, Atelieì Editorial (Cotia, Brazil), 2001.

Company of Moths, New Directions (New York, NY), 2005.

 

            Palmer’s work using amazing imagery to allow the reader to see a mental picture.  His language is executed excellently.  Sometimes Palmer’s readings are so wordy they seem like a game.  The reader plays a large role in Palmer’s work and that is why they get sucked into his poetry. 

 

Creative: Dearest Reader

 He painted the mountain over and over again

from his place in the cave, agape

at the light, its absence, the mantled

skull with blue-tinted hollows, wren-

like bird plucking berries from the fire

her hair alight and so on

lemon grass in cafe in clear glass.

 

Captivating: Sun

 Write this. We have burned all their villages

Write this. We have burned all the villages and the people in them

Write this. We have adopted their customs and their manner of dress

Write this. A word may be shaped like a bed, a basket of tears or an X

Post- modern: As a Real House

"I said darkling and you said sparkling"

The play-house appears before us

as a real house in the dark

filled with people cut out

of magazines and postcards

and called real people at the start

 

Open ended: Untitled

O you in that little bark

What is the relation of the painting to its title

The painting bears no relation to its title

The tiny boat bears

nameless people across

water that is infinitely dark

darker even than snow on paving stones

darker than faces in shadow on a boat

 

Transcendental: IF NOT, NOT

They tell each other stories,

lies composed as dreams and

always in the colors of

dreams: rust, chrome yellow, coral,

chemical green. Of the dying

figures, loosely assembled, by a

riverbank. The gatehouse. A journey

by train through beautiful countryside,

indescribable countryside. I was there

cut in half, only to

survive.

Palmer is often notes as a Language author.  This means the words create the poetry, literally, most times the speaker’s existence is questioned.  Often considered “overly poetic”, Language poetry can be difficult to understand, forcing the reader to participate in discovering a meaning.  Palmer says he uses Language poetry in an attempt to “escape from the assumptions of poetic production that were largely dominant in our culture.”   

            One of Michael Palmer’s followers would be George Oppen.  Palmer’s influence is not  that widespread, yet Oppen was a known follower.  He was born April 24th, 1908 and died in 1984.  He was an unconventional poet turned political activist, turned poet.  He and Palmer had the same ascetic as an artist, they wanted to show the reader something different than what was out there.  Oppen release work from the 30’s until the late 70’s. 

            Charles Olson had a profound impact of Michael Palmer’s career.  Olson preached the same idea that poets should shy away from confessional poems and focus more on thinking outside the box.  Olson was born December 27, 1910 and died in the 1970’s.  He was known for being a pioneer of post-modernism and had a ongoing effect on many poets during his life.  Olson’s work was release from the 30’s until the 80’s.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited:

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/73

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confessionalism_%28poetry%29

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wright_James

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Frost

 

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/98

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_School

http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/m_r/palmer/online.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Oppen

 

 

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Working Title- Invasion

Matthew Antonelli

 

 

A planet can only survive on it’s own resources for so long.

The thousands of years humans have exerted strain on our planet has brought us to this dark day.  The exponential growth of global warming, hurricanes destroying entire coastlines, and the obvious fact that our natural resources are dwindling, are matters everyone faces on a day-to-day basis.  I am here to propose an answer.   As we look to the future, not only for ourselves, but also for the lives of our children, we only have one option left.  We as inhabitants of this great planet must turn to our technology to guide us through the stars to a beacon of hope. 

 

Through great leaps in space exploration technology, we have found evidence of a sister planet a mere 20.5 light years a way.  In the past this voyage would not have been possible, however we now have perfected spacecrafts capable of light speed propulsion.  Through the use of these vehicles we will transport highly trained scientists to this new planet.  Said planet will hereon be referred to as GL-581 c, C for short.  The distance is significant and will not only take extensive training and expertise, but courage and pride.


As we have been preparing for this voyage for quite some time, we are aware of C’s significantly less gravity, in addition to a much slower orbit.  These factors have all been taken into consideration as we prepare to embark on the most significant space exploration in the history of the world.  We all look to you for support and trust in this most demanding time.  I cannot promise results from this daring mission, I can only promise strength, devotion, and will power.

GL-581 c has been studied for years; we know there is similar temperatures and possible water.  For these reasons we are to believe this host planet will be able to offer us natural resources, familiar and hopefully groundbreaking.  As this mission could possible be fruitless we do not consider this a solution, only an attempt for a better life.  We hope to gain enough resources to be able to supply major countries with power for many decades to come.  As this poses only a potential, temporary fix we encourage everyone to continue their work in fighting global warming and the production of synthetic fossil fuels. 

 

This monumental discovery and experimental research will mark history as the first inter-galactic voyage.  We hope for the best, yet I wish to reiterate the importance of all the work being done around the world.  This work is equally if not more important than this manned mission.  In the next few months our astronauts will prepare for this life-changing event and begin this exciting voyage.  I welcome and appreciate the world’s support; let us all hope everything goes to plan.  Thank you.

 

 

“Did the see the speech tonight?” I asked, with a some what annoyed tone.

“Is there anything besides a potential, temporary fix?  I feel like the government just keeps pushing us towards total destruction.  First, the destruction of New York, then London, and now Miami, all in one year.  Now crazy trips to alien planets?” 

By her silence, I could tell my girlfriend was getting annoyed. I could hear a faint laugh track in the background.  So to avoid an argument I asked, in a genuine way, “What’s on TV this late babe?”

I heard some rustling on the other end and she told me it was late and she was going to bed, she said we would talk in the morning. 

 

I needed a cigarette and to feel cool air on my face, I had to get out.  The road in front of my complex looked wet, but I didn’t hear it rain. 

“Random 5 minute rain storms”, I thought to myself, “I hope there’s not another hurricane.”

Fear had overtaken everyone’s disposition.  This is the one thing everyone could agree on, fear.  Well, fear and minimal use of electricity.  Loosing control over my surroundings had become a bleak reality.  Everything was government monitored.  There was nothing left to use, there wasn’t any open land, everything was a vast wasteland.  In my heart I hoped this inter-galactic mission would prove to be worth the effort, but my mind kept telling me not to get my hopes up.

As I ashed my cigarette I couldn’t help but stare up at the stars, basking in my own inferiority.  Are there really answers out there?  I guessed no one was listening so, I decided to turn in for the night.  As I kicked off my boots and crumbled into bed I realized the end may be near, and the hope for this entire planet would rest on this approaching mission.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Letters to Wendy's vs. Defence of Poetry

In “a Defence of Poetry”, Shelley wants the readers to see the language of poetry at its most basic point.  This idea correlates with the basic stream of consciousness that is presented in “Letters to Wendy’s”.  Shelley describes poetry as manipulating or imagining alternatives to reasonable thinking.  Both voices being discussed either stress or identify the need for creative, original thought, compiled with everyday reason and consideration, to create unique poetry.

            “In the infancy of society every author is necessarily a poet, because language itself is poetry… Every original language near to its source is in itself the chaos of a cyclic poem.” (Shelley 51).  This statement is saying before language became over processed, nearly everything was a poem.  The original coupling of words creates poetry in its most basic form.  This idea translates well to “Letters to Wendy’s”.  In Wenderoth’s collection of poetry the reader sees only a stream of consciousness.  Basic descriptions, commonly felt emotions, and basic imagery one would see in a Wendy’s, are all presented in their purest form.  There have been no proceeding models for this type of poetry, therefore the basic sculpting of words, in this situation, is poetry.
             Everyone with mental capability can support reasonable thought, a poet takes that reason and alters it with individual influence, and from there creates an abstract line of thought.  “Poetry, in a general sense, may be defined to be ‘the expression of the imagination’” (Shelley 49).  This defines what the reader gains from “Letters to Wendy’s”; Wenderoth’s poetry takes a conventional aspect of everyday life, Wendy’s, and approaches it with artistic imagination.  This exemplifies Shelley’s point, as poets, the only way to create interesting, inspiring art, is to take that everyday fast-food restaurant and present it the world through a different lens.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Seasonal Depression.

I put on a coat as I begin to feel heat deprivation.
Being warm is the only thing I can think of.
How quickly it is gone, no more sunlight.
I have heard these cigarettes kill,
I do believe only I control me.
It's my vice, I need a fix now.

What makes me need one now?
Only I know the true meaning of deprivation.
I do believe only I control me.
Look where I am now, this I never dreamed of.
Who did I step on?  Who did I kill?
God damn, where is the sunlight?

It's funny how we long for sunlight,
especially right now.
Look around, there is no one left to kill.
Loosing Love and Family, I do know deprivation.
That's the man everyone knows of.
I do believe only I control me.

I'm bigger now, look at me.
Open your eyes, I've brought the sunlight.
My power is not something I knew of,
I am aware now.
I strangled your wealth, oxygen deprivation.
I swear I didn't mean to kill.

Does anyone ever mean to kill?
Can you look in the mirror and say good thing him, not me?
That's what we call soul deprivation.
Can you even see the mirror without sunlight?
I'm here to open the window, but not now.
Let me show you what I'm made of.

No one knows the truth or what I speak of.
The eyes of the world are set to kill.
We need change, are you ready?  Are you ready now?
I do believe only I control me.
Break down the wall, show them the sunlight.
Were here to develop, not provide deprivation.

Deprivation of
sunlight, kill
me now.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Dear Christopher Columbus,

Well, well, well, isn't this interesting?  Of all people to be giving out lessons on morality, why not the ignorant, Italian explorer, that can't tell the difference between India and the Caribbean?  Well Sir, I can see a banter of back forth finger pointing will not solve anything.  The only way to establish who has brought more ill will into the world is to study history.  Let's begin with that fateful journey in 1492, how many people died because of your selfish need to explore?  How many innocent "Indian" lives were sacrificed for no just cause?  You are an abomination of a human being.  To you people are pawns in your chess board of life.  The only crime I am guilty of is supplying middle America with reliable, inexpensive, everyday items.  Criticize all you, Columbus, but one day your dark past will over shadow your less than impressive discoveries.

Sincerely,
Walmart Smiley