I felt dizzy
It was the feeling you get after a cigarette
on an empty stomach
I felt myself getting warmer
The summer sun was not to blame
Nor our seaside beach-wood bonfire
Not the bite of alcoholI see them standing there
in the orange crackling light.
I wonder if they’ve noticed
the boiling blood under my skin.I’m certain they wouldn’t understand
My dilemma
They are gifted with the ability
To ignore the truth and reality
Of the perilous waltz
Between fear and love
I feel so lost and uninspired.
What can I do?
Thought I would offer more than simply my heart next to your last post (which I thought was very clever). I have been in and out of Tumblr hatred so many times I cannot really remember if I started by hating or started by liking any more. Suffice to say I know what you mean from the things you mention that I am guilty of to the things you mention I loathe with passion. Anyway, thanks for your post, I hope you have a wonderful day. #response, #reply, #someothertag.
Thank you very much for your honest response. Re-reading the poem I realize how bitter and biting it sounds. I think the love hate relationship with tumblr must be common among poets. Sometimes I see poetry here and I find it naive and vacuous, and begin to feel that loathsome passion towards it and towards it’s author. However I’m not a bitter person, I forget sometimes, that here, we all write for different reasons; we all have many reasons for writing. My ideal of purity in poetry is not the the same ideal that other poets have. Frustration, not hatred is what I feel when I think about writing on tumblr. I suppose it’s mostly fueled by ego. Most of the people I’ve met and read on tumblr are fantastic poets, being here has always been inspiring. Writing, especially in a forum like this, should be fun and passionate. Perhaps I was quick to pass judgement but I must admit it was a fun poem to write! Thanks for your kind words and offering me an opportunity to talk more about this subject. I hope I’m not flattering myself too much by believing that poem is easily related to by many writers on tumblr.
It’s hard for a poet on tumblr
Tumbling in and out of the limelight
like a washed up pop star with two kids
ten albums
and two public
mental
breakdowns
You see that was a metaphor
and in order to be successful
in this medium
your poetry should be riddled with riddles and metaphor and simile
I’ve had my breakdowns
and heart breaks, aches, tugs and pulls
But I didn’t care about poetizing any of it
(Don’t forget to add gratuitous amounts of references to lost loves and new lovers, unattainable beauties and the word fuck.)
I know you wouldn’t give a fuck
about these things
I can tell because I don’t give a fuck when you write about these things
(Bolding and italicizing words in your poetry will make your audience believe you’re “edgy” and that your work has hidden esoteric meaning)
Esoteric, that’s a great word
A million dollar word
That’s sure to get you “promoted” on tumblr
It’s not that I’ve given up
On you, or my work
In fact I’m still around from time to time
It’s that it simply doesn’t matter what you think of me. I. Don’t. Care
(Punctuation and needless parenthetical work well too.)
I made a name for myself for a month or three
I had friends here,
(There goes one now, on their free-fall to the end of the dashboard)
I made an enemy or two
My words were mashed and mingled
bashed and broken
judged and condemned on this platform (9 3/4)
(If you can fit a Harry Potter reference into your poetry every once in a while this can gain you a few followers)
It’s hard for a poet on tumblr
To find themselves worthy
To find themselves exceptional
To find themselves in love with writing and sharing and caring and vomiting prose onto unsuspecting teenage girls
It’s hard when you measure your worth in a series of meaningless numbers
That don’t measure the meter of your talent
They measure the meter of your popularity
So I had to ask myself why I write, and why I don’t more often.
Tumblr makes me feel cheap
Tumblr makes me feel unexceptional
Tumblr makes me feel like my words are lost on an aggregate of fame seekers and unsuspecting teenage girls
They spit on you
You beg for more
Like a whore
You beg for more
(Quote an earlier work, this might remind old followers of past posts and send them to your archive looking for it)
Fly-by-night Haiku
Is easy and beloved
Please challenge yourself
Please challenge me
Don’t let each other off easy
Give praise where it is due
And none where it is not
(Another popular format is lengthy long winded personal venting in the guise of poetry)
(Source: imaginary-woman)
I am moon
O, constant moon
My ever changing-ey-ness
My ever constant-ly-ish
behavior.
I rise and set
And stand and fall
And wax and wane
Before you
I can fit your mood
or change it
Fancy a stroll down the peir
When I’m near
Take a ride in the car
If I’m far
Your guide and champion
Your rapist and victim
Here to serve you for my benefit
A little changeling once asked me
“Why do you stay so fixed in flux?”
“Because I am your moon and you asked me to.”
I responded
Hardly an hour later the Earth swallowed him
And it was the only question he had time to ask.
About Imaginary Woman
