A bunch of nothing from a lady who still calls herself a girl. Welcome to the growth of a new life of a Woman who had to travel to the opposite side of the country, live in a bush stripped of any and everything I've ever believed I've known, to find Truth, Peace, and a Power that I'm here to share.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Where is God NOW?
I've been"living" in my van for a few weeks.
"Where is God?" I sometimes wonder. God is everywhere with everyone and everything at all times. I am a part of God.
Well when I don't care any longer and I give up on living, I don't feel the love of God. I'm craving human love. That isn't what God is, that isn't how God loves. And when I really take a moment to remember that, I am filled with gratitude. I want God's love, I think we may all fall victim to wanting God's love from humans. I have always been a kind, loving, caring being. I love hard but my love is often expressed in negative ways. I rarely realize this while doing it but nevertheless, I am human, usuallyplagued with a sickness that is so sick, I believe I'm most well when I'm most sick.
If my love can harm and I know to my core that I want nothing but to have my love embrace my loved ones and make them feel safe, warm, protected, and wanted, then I am reminded that the people who hurt me most (because I know they love me best they can) are as human as I am so my thought, wants, needs, and energy should be directed to God in order to receive the desired effect.
I am suffering today. I feel ashamed, I feel self pitty, I feel abandoned, I feel overwhelmed, I'm nervous, scared, sad, angry, worried, and a few other things I probably haven't identified.
I want someone to save me, I want a human being to come to my rescue and comfort me. I want consistency. I want to feel at the very least, satisfied. I want relief and I don't want to feel these things alone.
I want partners in my redemption, I want to create something that will save us all from our self destruction.
Not only do I seek God to be human, I also crave to be God for everyone but me.
Where has God been? With me? Why has God allowed these painful things to happen with me? Are you here God, watching me, and not caring? Are you taking a break from my constant Fuck ups, letting me stand on my own like a baby fallen down, beginning to walk?
I doubt you. I can't understand how I could doubt what a powerful force you are after waking up and finding you but my mind has a power that creates and destroys you when seen fit.
I saw you yesterday God, you carried me like you always do, weightless, smooth, seamlessly. I know it was you. You made sure I knew it could only be you. Thank you. You did what you had to. You bonded your love tightly with a few good men and let your care shine through them.
Your light is so bright and strong with the oddest touch of calm, I can stare right into you and my eyes don't burn like as if looking at the Sun. Another reminder to keep my focus on you.
I dig you God but sometimes, I wonder.... WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
"Where is God?" I sometimes wonder. God is everywhere with everyone and everything at all times. I am a part of God.
Well when I don't care any longer and I give up on living, I don't feel the love of God. I'm craving human love. That isn't what God is, that isn't how God loves. And when I really take a moment to remember that, I am filled with gratitude. I want God's love, I think we may all fall victim to wanting God's love from humans. I have always been a kind, loving, caring being. I love hard but my love is often expressed in negative ways. I rarely realize this while doing it but nevertheless, I am human, usuallyplagued with a sickness that is so sick, I believe I'm most well when I'm most sick.
If my love can harm and I know to my core that I want nothing but to have my love embrace my loved ones and make them feel safe, warm, protected, and wanted, then I am reminded that the people who hurt me most (because I know they love me best they can) are as human as I am so my thought, wants, needs, and energy should be directed to God in order to receive the desired effect.
I am suffering today. I feel ashamed, I feel self pitty, I feel abandoned, I feel overwhelmed, I'm nervous, scared, sad, angry, worried, and a few other things I probably haven't identified.
I want someone to save me, I want a human being to come to my rescue and comfort me. I want consistency. I want to feel at the very least, satisfied. I want relief and I don't want to feel these things alone.
I want partners in my redemption, I want to create something that will save us all from our self destruction.
Not only do I seek God to be human, I also crave to be God for everyone but me.
Where has God been? With me? Why has God allowed these painful things to happen with me? Are you here God, watching me, and not caring? Are you taking a break from my constant Fuck ups, letting me stand on my own like a baby fallen down, beginning to walk?
I doubt you. I can't understand how I could doubt what a powerful force you are after waking up and finding you but my mind has a power that creates and destroys you when seen fit.
I saw you yesterday God, you carried me like you always do, weightless, smooth, seamlessly. I know it was you. You made sure I knew it could only be you. Thank you. You did what you had to. You bonded your love tightly with a few good men and let your care shine through them.
Your light is so bright and strong with the oddest touch of calm, I can stare right into you and my eyes don't burn like as if looking at the Sun. Another reminder to keep my focus on you.
I dig you God but sometimes, I wonder.... WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
Thursday, April 26, 2018
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Hate Derives From Fear. Lend Me Your Ear. Thanks Love.
So much hatred in this life. So many people hate themselves, I am one. We hate ourselves and don't know why. We forgot what it was like before we knew dislike.
Hate for ourselves evolves into hate for others. We despise what could simply be wonderful. Our curiosity transformed into animosity. Our nature was binded and stunted our growth. Does a squirrel hate? Does a hawk let fear stifle it's hunt for prey?
We cage other animals and keep them as pets.
pet1
pet/
noun
- 1.a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure.
We become debilitated so much so that we cruelly love other beings by enslaving them. Some say we hate slavery because slavery is wrong, bad, and derived from fear, causing unnecessary, damaging, demoralizing, painful, irreversible hate.
I once lured a cat off the street, to my apartment with my children to rid our home of mice. A funny story, whenever I tell it, we all laugh and laugh! We named him Savior, the cat. I'm more of a dog lover. I hated that damn car. He sprayed the furniture constantly, his hair was all over everything, he even slept in the baby's bassinet secretly on nights she fell asleep with me breastfeeding in the bed. I learned that cats hiss, and also, coughing up furballs isn't the way cartoons portray, it's wet and nasty like vomit. Ugh. I hated that cat but we named him Savior because he saved us from the disgusting mice that infested our home.
We are sick. This sickness is contagious. We spread this illness amongst one another accidentally, like someone who obtained influenza, doesn't know because the fever hasn't taken hold yet, and enters a room shaking hands and giving hugs in the name of love.
The virus, Hate, has a name but like the words God, and Love, can't be defined simply with a symbol made of letters we utter as a word.
There is a manifestation of fear that is plaguing humanity. We call it hate but the thoughts and feelings behind this word that birth action is something so insidious we rarely realize it exists unless the result of it's power is catastrophic.
Hate is such a smooth criminal, we often don't define it unless we are effected by it through major pain. When we are mistreated by another, depending on how much damage we're caused, we can easily believe we have brushed it off, let it go, given it up, overcame. Hate has affected us, some become sicker than others but we are infected just the same.
I rarely entertain the news that is fed to the mass' brain. I try to protect myself from empathy. I'm sick and am in fear of being sicker. The meer fact that I am consciously avoiding reality to escape the horrors caused by hate shows how powerful hate can be.
Will I end this thought with writing about the power of Love? I hate how people often do that.
Friday, April 13, 2018
They
Who is they?
They are the ones who are not me.
They will say that too.
They are the ones who are not you.
They will say you are a fool.
They are the ones who are not us.
They hate us. They hate them.
Who is they?
They are what we are not.
They are not happy, free, justified, joyous, kings, queens.
They are not sad, lonely, tired, in need.
They have names, faces, numbers, fame.
Who gave you life? Not They.
Who hurt you More while you were in pain? They.
Who won't ask? Not They.
Who takes? They.
Who listens? Not They.
Who talks to you, not with you? They.
There's not much to explain, it is simple.
They will always be.
Don't be confused.
They can be anyone.
For Those who ask who They is,
Tell them,
Maybe They is You.
You could never be your worst enemy.
They will be Them
I will be Me
You will be You.
Who is They?
If you have to ask,
You're one of Them or They've got a hold on You.
They are the ones who are not me.
They will say that too.
They are the ones who are not you.
They will say you are a fool.
They are the ones who are not us.
They hate us. They hate them.
Who is they?
They are what we are not.
They are not happy, free, justified, joyous, kings, queens.
They are not sad, lonely, tired, in need.
They have names, faces, numbers, fame.
Who gave you life? Not They.
Who hurt you More while you were in pain? They.
Who won't ask? Not They.
Who takes? They.
Who listens? Not They.
Who talks to you, not with you? They.
There's not much to explain, it is simple.
They will always be.
Don't be confused.
They can be anyone.
For Those who ask who They is,
Tell them,
Maybe They is You.
You could never be your worst enemy.
They will be Them
I will be Me
You will be You.
Who is They?
If you have to ask,
You're one of Them or They've got a hold on You.
Thursday, April 12, 2018
30/30 Poetry Challenge DAY 12!!! Not a High Coup but a High Bun
My first haibun. Enjoy!
I thought it would be super hard and I was prepared for a struggle. I made a joke to myself that it would end up being one of the easiest poems yet. Is This Real Life? Really??? Oh yes, really, so easy.
I was going to write more. I was going to do the long version, Prose/Haiku/Prose/Haiku, etc.
When I wrote the last line of the Haiku, which had me stumped for a few minutes, I decided to read what I had from the top. Lo and behold, I was impressed. I felt that any more would take away from the impact I received. I wouldn't deprive you of that.
Our craft resource for the day is an essay by Aimee Nezhukumatathil on writing haibun – a Japanese form that blends prose-based travel writing with haiku.
Today’s (optional) prompt picks up from our craft resource. We’ve challenged you to tackle the haibun in past years, but it’s such a fun one, we couldn’t resist again. Today, we’d like to challenge you specifically to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. It may be the high sierra, dusty plains, lush rainforest, or a suburbia of tiny, identical houses – but wherever you live, here’s your chance to bring it to life through the charming mix-and-match methodology of haibun.
Recreational Vehicle Home
I didn't want to ever sleep on the bare earth again
Without a home, I thought, at least I'm not alone
After paying for the room with his arm and a leg,
we couldn't afford to stay
She offered me a place, temporarily, I told him I didn't want to go.
when we arrived at the vehicle I said we would not stay for long
A temporary solution to a permanent problem.
The problem is Me
The problem is Him
I left, came back, I was still there.
My home is on wheels
Pour me
A drink makes it disappear
Like outside again.
-Warner Bailey
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
Day Ten
Hello, everyone. Today we are one-third of the way through Na/GloPoWriMo!
Our featured participant for the day is method two madness, where the small-and-large poem for Day 9 plays with repetition . . . and birds!
Today’s craft resource is this fascinating article that details the writing and revision process for a poem by former U.S. poet laureate Natasha Trethewey. It provides a really unique glimpse into a writer’s process, and the steps by which a poem takes its final shape.
Finally, here is our (optional) daily prompt. Usually, we take inspiration from our craft resource, but since our resource is about revision, we’ll go a bit further afield for this one! Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once. A nice example might be Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a Fly buzz – when I died”, or this powerful poem by Sarah Green.
Happy writing!
Sounds Far,
Rain falls to the concrete from the night's sky like music notes
ding ding ding
The trolly passes me, I wonder how the wet tracks continue to conduct the electricity, is it safe?
Bombs landing so far away from farms and farming families look so close from the crops,
war, famine, poverty, lives, and limbs lost are not a part of the farming family's daily routine,
The sun directs the thoughts of the day,
war is not much different than when a baseball team wins a game,
if the harvest yield's we live to eat another day,
the seasons change
change is inevitable,
that is what the family prays for before meals while bombs detonate looking close while far away.
When the rumble in my stomach, like the bass drums played while I asked for another round to be delivered as quickly as possible to me and my friends' table, I shuttered to think that the vomit that insisted, would meet the same hard concrete and ruin the symphony that each raindrop had fallen, struck, and spread to create.
Amen. Everyone ate quietly, then prayed on bended knee before their beds.
Sleep came for the farmer's family once again.
The rooster will crow early morning, the sun will rise, bombs so far will not be heard until twilight until the war ends.
Who knew how beautiful it could be to mix the outcome of a stomach's drum beat with piano keys of a major music piece.
I was relieved to throw up the whiskey I should have never mixed with vodka and gin.
The rain stopped when I had safely arrived home to my 1 bedroom flat.
I could still hear the band play as I fell asleep with my dress and shoes still fastened to me.
The music, now sounding far away, started to fade.
Hello, everyone. Today we are one-third of the way through Na/GloPoWriMo!
Our featured participant for the day is method two madness, where the small-and-large poem for Day 9 plays with repetition . . . and birds!
Today’s craft resource is this fascinating article that details the writing and revision process for a poem by former U.S. poet laureate Natasha Trethewey. It provides a really unique glimpse into a writer’s process, and the steps by which a poem takes its final shape.
Finally, here is our (optional) daily prompt. Usually, we take inspiration from our craft resource, but since our resource is about revision, we’ll go a bit further afield for this one! Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once. A nice example might be Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a Fly buzz – when I died”, or this powerful poem by Sarah Green.
Happy writing!
Sounds Far,
Rain falls to the concrete from the night's sky like music notes
ding ding ding
The trolly passes me, I wonder how the wet tracks continue to conduct the electricity, is it safe?
Bombs landing so far away from farms and farming families look so close from the crops,
war, famine, poverty, lives, and limbs lost are not a part of the farming family's daily routine,
The sun directs the thoughts of the day,
war is not much different than when a baseball team wins a game,
if the harvest yield's we live to eat another day,
the seasons change
change is inevitable,
that is what the family prays for before meals while bombs detonate looking close while far away.
When the rumble in my stomach, like the bass drums played while I asked for another round to be delivered as quickly as possible to me and my friends' table, I shuttered to think that the vomit that insisted, would meet the same hard concrete and ruin the symphony that each raindrop had fallen, struck, and spread to create.
Amen. Everyone ate quietly, then prayed on bended knee before their beds.
Sleep came for the farmer's family once again.
The rooster will crow early morning, the sun will rise, bombs so far will not be heard until twilight until the war ends.
Who knew how beautiful it could be to mix the outcome of a stomach's drum beat with piano keys of a major music piece.
I was relieved to throw up the whiskey I should have never mixed with vodka and gin.
The rain stopped when I had safely arrived home to my 1 bedroom flat.
I could still hear the band play as I fell asleep with my dress and shoes still fastened to me.
The music, now sounding far away, started to fade.
Monday, April 9, 2018
GROWTH
HI! 💁😌💓
GOOD NEWS OR NOT SUCH GREAT NEWS FIRST?
HA!....THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU'D PICK... NOT YOU, I KNEW YOU WOULD SAY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I THOUGHT. YEAH YOU, YOU KNOW WHO I'M TALKING TO... ANYWAY....
- Not Such Great News First:
- If you're one of my 5 followers, you may have noticed that I have "failed" writing A POEM A DAY FOR 30 DAYS.
- Nextly, I have decided (and taken action) to put my foot down and grace this forsaken land of The Angels NO MORE.
- That's right folks, Warner Bailey is taking this act on the road. 1st Stop? TBA... Hee Hee Hee.
- Great News:
- I HAVEN'T FAILED!!!
- And that ladies and Gents is the best news!
- Not just the fact that I haven't failed. I think a lot of you may already have this knowledge but...
(UPDATE: The above was written by me yesterday. I stopped typing yesterday, to go back to the house I've been working in as a caretaker to relieve the other woman who works there for a few hours on my day off which also, unfortunately, is her day off as well from her night job. I haven't opened my laptop up since. I've been planning to complete this post all night and morning. It's about time to return to that house for work and I won't have the same space to create. No matter anyway because the 2 spaces I create in now are both very challenging for me in their own ways. I shall pick up where I left off now.)
- ...I wish I had finished that sentence because I can't remember what I was going to say, yet, I can still feel the floaty airiness of confidence I had in the fact that I was living without FAILURE or rather the IDEA of FAILURE influencing my decisions, my conversation, my use of space and use of time.
In the past, as in, up to 3 days ago, I would choose to not even begin a project rather than to begin and not complete it.
I would also begin a project if I believed I had enough time, space, and utilities to complete it in a leisurely fashion.
And then there was the route I would take that I like to blame as the culprit of my fear of failure, I would begin a project and if the project wasn't going at least 85%-90% as close to the formula I designed to successfully complete, I would consider the project, the formula for completion, and even the idea for the project or the idea that I could complete it a failed attempt, so I would give up or half-ass my way to a faulty finish. Sometimes I would take this last approach because there was a deadline set by me or someone else that I hadn't met. Sometimes I would self-sabotage before I even got to the deadline because there was no possible way I could perceive making the said deadline.I would like to say here that at some point I started using the term "self-sabotage" but I'd like to take the word self out and say that I sabotaged many opportunities for not only myself but for others. I was affecting other people who know I have the skill, the passion, the experience, and even the drive to create whatever it is I agreed to work on, by not going the distance.
Yesterday, April 6, 2018, I mentally rounded off how many days of the 30/30 Poetry Challenge I had not composed one of my "edge of the seat", Nobel Award deserving pieces of Modern day literary must-have pieces of poetry. Hold on while I fact-check something real quick...
I'm back.
So, I rounded my missed writing days off to about 5 on Friday, April 6, 2018. The last day I wrote a poem dedicated to the 30/30 Poetry Challenge was on Monday, April 2, 2018. That's 3 days of missed writing for that challenge.
In those 3 days, I've written for other platforms, worked my full time job (whereas of today I've worked at for 2 months without pay and received information recently that I will not receive half of the back pay I was promised, and may or may not receive the other half at some point. ATTENTION: THIS IS STRESSFULL.), my van has broken down, my phone fell off of the counter and the screen shattered, while going through a drawn-out break up with my soon to be ex-boyfriend whom I live with, in an unhealthy RV which has been grounded for well over 20 years in the backyard of a married couple I know from AA.
I thought briefly about carving out some time during the day to catch up on the days I missed but quickly dismissed that idea knowing good and damned well that my stress level would skyrocket and I would end up causing more damage than good trying to do something I've not once seen all the way through. I wanted to write the whole writing challenge off as "another failed attempt". I began to sing myself the same ole pathetic song of the pained and suffering Artist who may never live up to my potential due to failing to simply complete one simple project. Possibly the one key challenge I've needed to launch my career to the top and bring all of my life's purpose to a head for all of the world to see and I could finally be given the recognition I've deserved since I wrote my first word in kindergarten. I think the word was "Mommy".
Between various text conversations, food breaks, talking and laughing with my soon to be ex-boyfriend breaks, find the best classical piano playlist to write to breaks, and I'm too tired to do anything but won't take a nap because I have too much to do breaks, it has taken me about 5 hours to get to this juncture. I'm ready to wrap it up now so maybe I can follow this up with an example of my growth to share with you following this post.
Something happened, like other moments I've had the privilege to experience, more than ever in the past few years, a moment I like to call an "Aha Moment". A notion I have been mindful of for the past week or two, that although there is such a thing as failure, it can not apply to one's life. By definition, as I understand it, success and failure can only truly be measured by one's self. In essence, I began to believe that I can not fail in life, which also meant I could not fail at any project or task no matter what the constraints were I strived to uphold. And with that being said I was lead to the realization that many of the rules, guidelines, and limits I believe are required for me to meet in order to achieve successful completion of works was often no, ALWAYS, created, governed, maintained, or abandoned unnecessarily by ME.
Like a clap to a roar these thoughts became new feelings, those feelings led to actions that lead me to the most beautiful proclamation I could make during such a challenging time in my life.
"I can not fail the 30/30 Poetry Challenge."
If you're reading this and justifying that I had already failed the challenge by missing days or if you're out there rooting for me, hoping that I continue the challenge, hoping I find a way to make up the missed poems and finally feel accomplished, then you are exactly who I wrote this for! I'm so happy you found my words simply because you are who I feel comfortable sharing my story with.
My journey has afforded me many lessons that have been uniquely presented to me, for me, by me and the power that I have within me, which is so bright, so strong, so great, that I am learning in small doses how to utilize it moment by moment.
I do not mean to imply that you see what I see, feel what I feel, or agree with my opinions. I just want to share with you and hope to have the pleasure of receiving feedback, starting a conversation, or if nothing else, checking my stats and being honored to see that a part of me has been read by anyone else besides me.
So, since failure is no longer a factor, everything I've written from this paragraph, on, is being typed by me on Sunday, April 9, 2018.
I have read this blog post over a few times and I think that this may be one of the closest pieces of writing I've done here that resembles the vision I had when I started blogging.
In conclusion, I have 2 final pearls I'd like to share with you. The first is that this post WILL be posted even though it's officially my 3rd day of writing it since it's now 1:17 am.
The second will be the next poem I share as I continue to participate in the 30/30 Poetry Challenge. The poem will be the pearl that has grown from my development that no matter how many days I write a poem for the challenge, no matter how many poems I write in April, and no matter if I decide to carry my writings for the challenge into May, June, or 2019, when my last poem is written for the 30/30 Poetry Challenge, then and only then is when I will have completed the challenge, and for that I CAN NOT FAIL at completing the 30/30 Poetry Challenge. I have already claimed my success.
"Life Sucks and is so Beautiful"
- Warner Bailey
- Not Such Great News First:
- If you're one of my 5 followers, you may have noticed that I have "failed" writing A POEM A DAY FOR 30 DAYS.
- Nextly, I have decided (and taken action) to put my foot down and grace this forsaken land of The Angels NO MORE.
- That's right folks, Warner Bailey is taking this act on the road. 1st Stop? TBA... Hee Hee Hee.
- Great News:
- I HAVEN'T FAILED!!!
- And that ladies and Gents is the best news!
- Not just the fact that I haven't failed. I think a lot of you may already have this knowledge but...
(UPDATE: The above was written by me yesterday. I stopped typing yesterday, to go back to the house I've been working in as a caretaker to relieve the other woman who works there for a few hours on my day off which also, unfortunately, is her day off as well from her night job. I haven't opened my laptop up since. I've been planning to complete this post all night and morning. It's about time to return to that house for work and I won't have the same space to create. No matter anyway because the 2 spaces I create in now are both very challenging for me in their own ways. I shall pick up where I left off now.)
- ...I wish I had finished that sentence because I can't remember what I was going to say, yet, I can still feel the floaty airiness of confidence I had in the fact that I was living without FAILURE or rather the IDEA of FAILURE influencing my decisions, my conversation, my use of space and use of time.
In the past, as in, up to 3 days ago, I would choose to not even begin a project rather than to begin and not complete it.
I would also begin a project if I believed I had enough time, space, and utilities to complete it in a leisurely fashion.
And then there was the route I would take that I like to blame as the culprit of my fear of failure, I would begin a project and if the project wasn't going at least 85%-90% as close to the formula I designed to successfully complete, I would consider the project, the formula for completion, and even the idea for the project or the idea that I could complete it a failed attempt, so I would give up or half-ass my way to a faulty finish. Sometimes I would take this last approach because there was a deadline set by me or someone else that I hadn't met. Sometimes I would self-sabotage before I even got to the deadline because there was no possible way I could perceive making the said deadline.I would like to say here that at some point I started using the term "self-sabotage" but I'd like to take the word self out and say that I sabotaged many opportunities for not only myself but for others. I was affecting other people who know I have the skill, the passion, the experience, and even the drive to create whatever it is I agreed to work on, by not going the distance.
Yesterday, April 6, 2018, I mentally rounded off how many days of the 30/30 Poetry Challenge I had not composed one of my "edge of the seat", Nobel Award deserving pieces of Modern day literary must-have pieces of poetry. Hold on while I fact-check something real quick...
I'm back.
So, I rounded my missed writing days off to about 5 on Friday, April 6, 2018. The last day I wrote a poem dedicated to the 30/30 Poetry Challenge was on Monday, April 2, 2018. That's 3 days of missed writing for that challenge.
In those 3 days, I've written for other platforms, worked my full time job (whereas of today I've worked at for 2 months without pay and received information recently that I will not receive half of the back pay I was promised, and may or may not receive the other half at some point. ATTENTION: THIS IS STRESSFULL.), my van has broken down, my phone fell off of the counter and the screen shattered, while going through a drawn-out break up with my soon to be ex-boyfriend whom I live with, in an unhealthy RV which has been grounded for well over 20 years in the backyard of a married couple I know from AA.
- Warner Bailey
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
Day 3 of The 30/30 Poetry Challenge
Here's the cold hard fact of this challenge on day 3. I DON'T CARE FOR THE PROMPT AT ALL. I feel like it's cute to ramble these types of things off with a friend or few every once in a while or even like an inside ongoing funny and fun game amongst peers but I really don't feel like doing this today or at all as a writing assignment for a poetry challenge. UGH!
So I'm doing this just to say I did it and I'm doing it at 2:34 a.m. because I really don't wanna but I wanna participate every day. On that note, here we go.
P.s.- I'll put my best efforts into this even though I just wanna write BLAH BLAH BLAH over and over again but my best for this will most likely be crap. Thanks for reading! Insert heart emoji here.
Today’s prompt (optional as always), is inspired by our interview with Peter Davis. As he indicates there, his latest book is rooted in endlessly writing ideas for band names. Today, we challenge you to try this out yourself by writing a list poem in which all the items are made-up names. If band names don’t inspire, how about a list of titles for romantic novels? Or new television cop dramas? They can be as over-the-top as you like, because that’s (at least) half the fun. Happy writing!
New York $hitty
HollyHood
Ilanoying
ChiPopo or Crime Town
FloriDuh
Boo Jersey or New Hurry up and leave
RodFester
AlaBamBamBama
Portland Play the Funeral Organ
New OrLean wit it
Calipornia
Crooklyn Tookland
DoubleD Dallas
Oh-Why-O
KantSus
WashingBum
SeaFattle
DelaWhere?
PensylLamia
KenFuckme
Oklahome ya wanna go back
NaBriska
ConnnetiCut It Out
TennaSeeYa Never
Idaho no You da Ho
North Caroline up
Mouth Cant Find Ya
Milwhatty
MassaTootsis
Fort What's it Worth
Staten... Nevermind, you don't even count
Rhode Find the Land
OreGone
Alaska Flask A Keep ya Warm
The North Pole
The South Hole
The End.
Let's just act like this never happened
-Warner Bailey (Quietly sets down mic and with head down slinks off to stage Left my talent in the Green Room)
Monday, April 2, 2018
Day 2 30/30 Poetry Challenge
I'm in love with the prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net of day 2 of the National Poetry Month 30/30 Challenge (30 Poems in 30 days!?!?!)
Taking a cue from our craft resource, an essay by Katie Rensch on the poetic “I”. we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that plays with voice. For example, you might try writing a stanza that recounts something in the first-person, followed by a stanza recounting the same incident in the second-person, followed by a stanza that treats the incident from a third-person point of view. Or you might try a poem in the form of a dialogue, which necessarily has two “I” speakers, addressing two “you”s. Another way to go is to take an existing poem of yours or someone else’s, and try rewriting it in a different voice. The point is just to play with who is speaking to who and how. Happy writing!
When I first saw you we were young
I thought you couldn’t see me
Young and dumb
You were the first to make me cry
You were the last before we died
The moment I knew
That moment I shared
I shared it with you
My last moment was our moment
I died alone with you
You looked at me the moment we died the same exact way you did when we were young
I could never look at you like that then
I couldn't look at you at all
Young and dumb
I've hurt you so many times
I wish it were me alone who died
In your arms
Or by my bedside
I said to myself when I first saw you
I want to grow old and die with that one
That one was you
I died alone with that day with you
I was there
The day they met
I was there the day they died
You should have seen the look in their eyes
-Warner Bailey 4/2/18
Sunday, April 1, 2018
April 1st Kicks Off The 1st Day of the 30/30 National Poetry Month Challenge
Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame or a secret pleasure. It could be eating too many cookies or bad movies, or the time you told your sister she could totally brush her teeth with soap. It’s up to you. Happy writing!
A Secret Only I Can Keep
You make me laugh so hard my insides are bursting at the seems.
You asked me to tell you a secret and offered to do the same,
You promised to keep my secret
You promised to feel every ounce of pain,
You promised to keep your promises while you keep my secret pleasures and damning shame.
I don't want your secrets, those are yours to claim.
What makes a secret exactly what it is?
When does the trust end and the honesty begin?
If I told you what it is that I keep locked up, safely inside my heart, soul, spirit, mind,
If I shared the most inner parts of me,
If I released the quiet storm that rests only with me would it still be a secret or would it go by a new name?
How can I believe that you can hold on to my pain when it's not yours to brave?
What makes you think I would betray myself simply because you offered what you say is your own version of pleasure or pain?
I don't know how to play this game,
I am not interested in sharing my pain,
I keep mine and you can do the same.
So I lie and say that you are my pleasure and that I have no shame.
That is my secret, This is my God damn shame,
I lie to keep my secrets resting where they stay.
I lie to keep my honesty safe from pain.
You knew all along that I couldn't fake my shame so your test proved positive and nothing has changed.
We live in lies and secret shames built on top of the secret pleasures we both long for but die to save, never knowing fully what it's like to be free of the shame, pain, and misery we create and keep.
We live in lies and secret pains built on top of the secret pleasures we both long for but die to selfishly save, never knowing even for a second what it's like to be free and indulge in the pleasures of sharing all of ourselves together honestly, infinitely, sincerely as the real you and the real me.
Hush, while I tell you a secret, but once I do I'll disappear, I hope you come too.
-Warner Bailey 4/1/18
If you'd like to participate in this year's Poetry Month 30/30 Challenge (30 Poems in 30 days)
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