Random poems from Raven's Catalogue

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ravenrussell
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Postby ravenrussell » Wed May 18, 2016 12:27 am

cerrodepedro wrote:Holy wow. The synesthesia alone is overwhelming. Severely guilty as I am about ten-dollar words, I still identify with that poem a lot. Going to continue commenting here. Thank you.


Had to look up the word, synesthesia. What a evocative word. Thank you for your comments. And thank you aliceelite.
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Postby Corgimom » Wed May 18, 2016 12:14 pm

Poetry tends to be a self absorbed medium.

1)Good poetry sucks us into the words either by universality of themes and emotions.

2)Very god poetry triggers the intended emotional reaction

That's the difference in tell me and show me. I can see both here.

The test of great poetry is not our reaction when we read it. Great poetry draws us back to read read read and read again over many years. Great poetry keeps popping into our thoughts unbidden.

The moon has set
and the Pleiades:
it's midnight;
time passes, time passes-
and I lie alone.

If you will come, I will put out new pillows for you to rest on
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Postby ravenrussell » Thu May 19, 2016 5:38 am

Corgimom wrote:Poetry tends to be a self absorbed medium.

I'm trying not to take this as a burn. What is more self - absorbed than writing a whole novel and expecting someone to read it. Creating a whole album and expecting people to listen to every song. Poems are short, require no time commitment to read. I see nothing more world friendly than a poem. I suppose I could switch to memes, lol. I appreciate everything you wrote Corgimom, except I disagree with the above point. No ill will meant. Love you all, keep the comments flying.
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Postby Corgimom » Thu May 19, 2016 9:43 am

ravenrussell wrote:
Corgimom wrote:Poetry tends to be a self absorbed medium.

I'm trying not to take this as a burn. What is more self - absorbed than writing a whole novel and expecting someone to read it. Creating a whole album and expecting people to listen to every song. Poems are short, require no time commitment to read. I see nothing more world friendly than a poem. I suppose I could switch to memes, lol. I appreciate everything you wrote Corgimom, except I disagree with the above point. No ill will meant. Love you all, keep the comments flying.


It wasn't a burn. I was actually thinking about great poetry and how personal to the writer it is. That is why I quoted Sappho. Sure she wrote hymns to the gods but the words that ring for decades are the personal. If was over 40 years ago I read the business with the pillows it still strikes me as yearning so deep she would not give it further expression.

In modern terms- 'If I am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips. it is because I hear a man climb stairs and clear his throat outside the door. ' is nothing but one mans terror of loosing the center of his world but the words once read never leave you.

The deeply personal soul laid bare aspect put to paper needs to be self absorption spewed to words then picked apart for exactly the right word before you deal with cadence. Poetry is work.

Sure there are twists on the way writers handle the revelations. For example I think Edger Lee Masters used the voices of a whole town's grave yard to address the spectrum of the human condition. Spoon River was his Opus. It seemed to me that the things I read outside that collection were goodish but I can't remember of the words from later works.

Now think of Tennyson- how he often connects us to the wildness of nature then makes that connection swell to a yearning to hear the thrush song.
On a more modern note Ruth Stone who has said that the poems come through her not from her. I get that too
I thought the poetry you wrote was good. Nice touch of anger and angst. You need to get published. I want to see and read your best.

I'll know if it is great if I catch myself quoting or remembering it much later.

Memes are either greeting cards run amok or traffic generators for web sites in the smart phone age. Their relationship to poetry is about the same as writing ABC family sitcoms is to experimental short films.
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Postby Corgimom » Thu May 19, 2016 9:58 pm

I would also say that
Heroin of Troy, hell sings.
is a perfect line evoking the dichotomy of the drug
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Postby ravenrussell » Sat May 21, 2016 1:59 am

You've got me reading new poets. I must read and read some more. I thank you for your educated words. I will work on a proper response, after educating myself on your words. Thank you corgimom. Have a wonderful weekend. I will be traveling down spoon river with wildness on my heart.
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Postby Corgimom » Sat May 21, 2016 5:41 pm

OMG I wish I were there to watch your reactions.
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Postby ravenrussell » Fri Jun 17, 2016 5:14 am

A new one. Devour me my ninjas.

"Black Moth Ball Baby"

Black mothball binky,
so terrible when torn from my grasp.
I toddle about the room,
baby safed from the flowered asp.

Swaddled in rolling papers,
filtered conversations, lit at both ends.
Coddled and burnt by perverts.
Firemen doing lines of napalm friends.

The teething potty monster,
lost his innocence in my martini.
This empty onesie, filled with a nightclub.
Alone in my corner, sweating out Mussolini.

Mildewed turkey baster,
barely used delivery device done.
If we parry our glances much longer,
the duel will be won by no one

By: Russell Jay Keenan
6/16/2016
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Postby ravenrussell » Fri Jun 17, 2016 6:15 am

"Paisley"

Under her moonbeam earrings,
jingling like wind chimes,
under her zebra stripes,
savannahs sweep the envious sky.

Under her polka dot umbrella,
droplets become desert,
she's just dessert, a blouse,
dripping slowly before it's ripped.

Stir your coffee till it's afternoon.
Under her paisley ceiling tiles,
as they dance as alive as Dead Heads.
Under a pillow a hidden alarm clock.

The night sleeps restless,
under her eyelids she wrestles hyenas.
Useless are minor excuses,
Under the strong midnight arms.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
6/16/2016
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Postby Corgimom » Sat Jun 18, 2016 1:07 am

"under her eyelids she wrestles hyena" powerful
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Postby AliceElite » Tue Jun 21, 2016 3:44 am

Please keep sharing your work with us. These are beautiful.
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Postby PhlawlessPhelon » Wed Jun 22, 2016 7:03 am

Checked back in to read "Our Many, Varied Ways to Speak" and I really liked it. Keep posting more please! :-)
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Postby ravenrussell » Wed Jun 22, 2016 11:51 pm

My newest baby. Still covered in afterbirth.

"Her Phases 800% Slower"

She howls, fully phased, naked, collecting rage.
In lunar seas, solar sail sweethearts of regret.
I row solitary, confinement's mistress, shackled.
Throwing anchors from the brig,
but the words dangle uselessly,
from the deck of my lips.

She wanes and waxes in true satellite shades.
She disappears in white-rabbit hole supernovas,
reappearing all filthied up on an 80's soap.
The antennae split, sprouting pubescent growth.
The vulva of a sitcom with its laugh track clitoris.
She carefully warns the calendar,
for when Misunderstanding airs again.

The moon has a sister, not previously in the tree.
The orchard of the skies, stars like pollen scattering.
Decaying gravity deceases like diseased bees.
Adultery leaves that subtle scent (
New mini-moons shouting from bottomless wells,
The Hell of a once wished lover,
Engulfed in necrosis, neurotic, and sadly smelling)
of stale copper.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
6/22/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby ravenrussell » Thu Jun 23, 2016 1:50 am

"The Bikini"

The pregnant woman bemoans the loss of her bikini body,
as the awesome gift of creation spins cosmic within her.
She tiptoes across the solstice grass, outshining the sun.
The baby burbles a thousand futures left undreamt,
and vanity steals the moment.

The oldest man alive, traces each wrinkle wisely,
dragging his finger across his eldest scars.
Retirement, convalescence, all he wants,
to tiptoe with her across the equinox flowers.
senility steals the moment.

The one piece, sarong, hidden beneath an umbrella,
stretch marked across the sand, thighs of cottages.
He runs, feet high to escape the tide, toward child.
They spin cosmic, squealing together for mother to join.
and vanity steals the moment.

The oldest woman dying on a bed of mirrors.
The miracle of making beauty reflects itself.
Removing comforter, douvey, shawl, heavy nightgown,
she dawns herself, eclipses the room in bikini.
majesty steals the moment.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
6/22/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Re: Random poems from Raven's Catalogue

Postby ravenrussell » Sun Jul 17, 2016 8:54 am

"Awaken To Day Glow"

Fresh veneers, too few peers, leers from the jeering,
mirroring the bridge and tunnel crew with gold bar
lexus hard hat precision, diction predilection a fiction,
friction between the castes, pasts placing us with a full mast,
or a spell that is half cast, weakly sputtering wand,
fern frond, floating face first in a two inch deep pond.

Meshed in veiled, racist discussions about asian drivers.
Arabic, terrorist, hateful gun rhetoric, shot full of holes.
Feeling like a goat amongst a herd of elephants.
Truncated by the needs of the many, trampled
stampeded, remembered as the defeated minority.
Mr. Feelgood, slumped, half-dead in a port-a-potty.

We Plutos at the edge of where we used to be.
We Platos, knowing nothing as soon as we knew it all.
It's fatal, to fall for the great American dream.
In spearmint flavored, sugarfree sold out goals,
I awaken and accomplish day glow, washed out stories.
Those who make my money, laugh at its authenticity.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
6/29/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Re: Random poems from Raven's Catalogue

Postby ravenrussell » Sun Jul 17, 2016 8:55 am

A fictional poem

"Rent Money, Heroin Honey"

The rent money is past due
and her phony face is stitched
with ritalin and mdma.
The electicity is shut off
and her lying nose rub routine
while post nasal drip races.
Crank by a neck along the stretch,
while along the rail cocaine
with its stale ammonia cooked taste.
Her track mark, pin prick adornments,
so much more important than bills.
Thrills inhaled, exhaled blues, failed feuds,
bailed out attitudes, we are new on ludes.
Methadone clinic morning, all stain glass colored in.
Scoring Heroin on the bus ride home, some,
but not enough, the rough edges, scraping
pipes, tooters, foil, anything with footprints.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
6/29/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Re: Random poems from Raven's Catalogue

Postby ink » Mon Jul 18, 2016 11:17 am

//digs

inspiring..
we are, what we allow to occupy us..





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Re:

Postby ravenrussell » Sat Dec 31, 2016 6:05 pm

DJ_Darkside wrote:
ravenrussell wrote:

"Chewing with the Toothless"
Trap house, bed bug ridden blouse.
Rap blasting, week long fasting.
The past, like thick blue tar
wall-papered, crystalline bar.

Dope den, penned in warrants.
Just a crib, railed in jib.
Roped in, turmoil in torrents.
The spoils of welfare's coils.

Rooms filled up like tombs.
Mauseleoms of manic meth.
Death foiled, boiled in spoons.
Museums of aching breath.

Broken recliner beds, lazy boy,
until the bong bell rings.
Unspoken manipulation destroys,
Heroin of Troy, hell sings.

Dusk, drugs, diggling trust.
Rusty chainsaws, morning a must.
Pawn shop a foregone stop.
A pillow of coming down, a rock.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
4/12/2016



I really related to this one, raven. I once lived in a house with 6 people. Typical dope den with only a couple of people having jobs to support the habit; the rest leechers. It's this illusion of what I call "weed friends". Those who are there for you when the drugs are flowing and no where to be seen when there is none. You need to cut weeds... I've had everything taken from me by these kind of people. I had to build myself back up from nothing and it was a long time before those scars healed. However, I regret nothing and would not have changed anything because it brought me to the state of mind which I am in now. Just like your sig says: It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. Truth, all of it. I look forward to more of your work! Big welcome fellow Ninja!


Thank you so much for these kind words of hope. I've cut out that end of my life, but last winter, I twirled for a bit. Gaked out is like walking around with your ass out. I hope you're still around, i dig your style.
Peace to all.
-Raven
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