Erotic Poem

The Well-Oiled Machine

The car effortlessly shifts into a higher gear, its engine purring at the increase in acceleration.

Pedal to the floor, the transmission grunts and responds, vaulting the car forward.

The gears grind while the car works like the well-oiled machine it is.

The driver slams on the brakes, the car screams and gasps as its tires rub roughly against the hard road.

Panting, the car rests shortly before resuming its race,

Where its engine hums and vibrates in a hypnotic sigh. 

The Shadow Poem

Selfish

I avert my gaze from the homeless beggar on the side of the road.

I will give him money next time, I say.

I know I should, but for some reason I cannot.

I am selfish.

In kindergarten we were taught to share,

And it’s not that I don’t care,

It’s just I feel like I am letting a part of me go.

I’m losing my worth to the side of the road.

How can I give to some and not to others?

There are always more people in worse conditions,

These are the things I tell myself,

So my greed can grow, alongside my health,

So I will never have to lose my sense of wealth.

Nonsensish Poem

Through and About

Walking and talking through and about the novel. Skimming and flipping, avoiding the light drizzle. But it’s pouring. Shame, the pages are soaked through and about. Meandering now. Not lost, but aimless. Rain hits the cobblestone pitter patter. I watch from within the confines of my mind, thank God I’m not out there, but rather trapped inside myself. Pitter patter. Again, I begin to worry. Will I ever make it home, or have my travels consumed me. Shame I can’t make it home for dinner.  I know the sky will open to the heavens, but when the white marble staircase crashes down I fear I may miss it, because I’ll already be on my way. 

Argentina's Dirty War

35 years ago stares me in the face,
But we are anything but eye to eye.
I can't understand their pain,
I can't understand their suffering.

I can't look away from the man on horseback with the gun.
His shadowed figure is unwavering.
Did he shoot?
He is at once portrayed to be the most powerful and the most cowardly.

The protesters run toward him and his comrades, fearlessly.
Led by a man with one hand clenched into a fist and the other open to the sky,
They are unarmed.

The mural is anything but silent, cleverly cutting through the peaceful street and green trees.
It remembers what has been forgotten, overlooked, covered up.
It is the work of the people themselves, not the government.
It tells the true story, written on the walls of society itself.

Poetry Slam Response

          Tucked away on the corner of 4^th and Broadway in Lowertown, Saint Paul, the Black Dog Tavern recently hosted a poetry slam called “Nu Griot’s Gumbo Revolution.” The small wine and coffee bar was packed to the point where there was nowhere to sit or stand to see the local poets. Among the Minneapolis and Saint Paul natives performing that night was the once aspiring people’s politician, Marcus Harcus. Harcus read a few of his pieces, which ranged from three to four pages. Between each page break he was so passionate that he threw each finished page to the floor with great emphasis. Harcus focused on the huge gap between the rich and the poor present in today’s society. He read his poem titled “The Missing Class Ain’t the Middle Class,” but I was unable to find a copy of it at the slam or online. Essentially, Harcus talked about how the majority of Americans are living in poverty and that the comfortable middle class is nonexistent. He talked about how there was a lack of jobs even for qualified people, which brought several sounds of approval from the audience. Harcus' prose style equipped with long lines allowed him to elevate the intensity of his performance with each word, drawing the audience in closer and closer with each breath. His performance seemed bigger than the bar itself, covering issues so big and prominent.
          Even though I couldn’t find “The Missing Class Ain’t the Middle Class” online, (other than references to it on Harcus’ fan page) I found another poem written by Harcus about how history seems to have skipped over the era of slavery in its detailed volumes. Yes, Marcus Harcus wrote another long ass poem: http://nefermaathotep.tumblr.com/post/46223106839/via-marcus-harcus-wrote-another-long-ass-poem Harcus uses prose in his poem entitled “Getting Over Slavery & Getting Over Racism” to convey his thoughts on how we avoid talking about slavery in today’s society. A line from this poem that really struck me is in the first stanza: “Although they [Americans] don’t mind commemorating the better parts of our national history, things they can be proud of, they’d rather forget and downplay the significant influence and trauma of the ugly aspects, things that are deeply shameful, like historical oppression of the indigenous and Stolen African populations.” Harcus is very blunt and assertive in writing about this sensitive topic, showing his passion and mindset on the topic. I think the free prose style of this poem allows Harcus to display how he truly feels without the limitations of rhyme or meter, making it that much more meaningful.

            The poetry of Marcus Harcus focuses on issues of today’s society and what we can do to resolve them. His poetry has meaning and conveys concepts the everyday man can relate with, and for this I find his work very grounded and progressive. His performances of these poems only make them more powerful, and I am glad I went and witnessed his poetry out loud. 

Louis Jenkins Response

Being a writer who is most comfortable working within the bounds of a given structure, I was initially pessimistic upon hearing about Jenkins' more undefined writing style. However, after reading only a couple of his prose poems I was surprised by how much I enjoyed them.

One of the things I noticed and liked most about Jenkins' poems were the themes. He invokes self reflection from the reader about everyday topics such as living too fast and not enjoying the moment. In his poem "The Speaker," Jenkins examines the overlooking of the small things in life which can mean the most. He concludes the poem with the two sentences: "When the speaker has finished we gather around to sing a few inspirational songs. You and I stand at the back of the group and hum along since we have forgotten most of the words." He writes that we may have ideas of what is important but are not experiencing everything to our fullest potential. I think it is true that the important things can get lost in the busy shuffle of life and Jenkins does a really nice job of portraying this through his questioning in "The Speaker." Another example of Jenkins' causing the reader to look deeper into their lives is in his poem "Gravity." In this poem Jenkins writes, "If you look into it further you will discover that the water is not attached to anything either and that perhaps the rocks and the trees are not all that firmly in place." He is talking about the narrator's house but it can be connected to the bigger picture - not everything is as it outwardly appears. Upon closer inspection even the foundations of our perceptions can be inaccurate, something which can be easily overlooked with the wrong attitude. I think Jenkins succeeds in portraying ideas like this in his short prose poems and wonder if he gives himself any definite boundaries while he is writing them. I'm also curious to find out how Jenkins picks the topics for his poems. 

Video Poem of the Day

America In 4 Minutes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZDNUGMMxLk