reverse retro
long ago one was literally taught
to write with knib and ink
rewards for penmenship
and then Discipline drummed in
all the while dressed in appropriate social wear.
So the rebels smoked and drank
their breath gin tainted and nicotine tinged
wrote dark poetry with those said knibs
and daring thoughts and found likeminded
to see how to outdo the ordinary doings
Poetry was taught ardously
word for word Theory by the mile
I wouldnt have made it!
and yet here I exist
a different time

listen to elders all
and pick your path
talent will grow
sunshine and rain
this finesse is from
us old fuddy duddys

hell even I was guided
freind and foe to get
here at this old age

Perhaps my highest praise. The pace at the end makes it all. Wicked subject. wesley

Try pasting this in, but chooose advance formatting first. You will see it reads much better

the blue glare that drives you crazy is almost welcome now;
but only when you must get something down
to show the usernames you've come to trust
in almost anonymous Neoland.
In that particular place,
you can stretch your babybat wings and fly off
to find someone else with ink running through their veins.
there you found a few fingers to
grasp in your tiny beginners hand;
one aged with meter and syllable count and all that boring stuff.
someone who is also a dancing monkey for their own words
that turn the music box crank incessantly --
only  these monkeys have been enslaved longer,
and by now they've figured out
the exact angle to hold the paper
when writing in 10:43 darkness
by alarm clock light.
 

The attacks on barely veiled Neopoet members was not nice. I can cop it, others might find it hurtful. So be it.

A terriblle trap at Neopoet is writing about Neopoet. It all ends in tears, or mutual masturbation.

I love poems like this
to go back in time and sit
with the poets in the original
coffee shops
Mad geniuses with such talent
raw and unforgiving

how they did tear apart the
young world and print their
gifts

and how the order tried to
stuff them into the well but
archaic realms

Imagine if they all obeyed
and funneled into classic
vein

there would be no impressionist
paintings if they chose to paint
classically

and Ginsberg's "Howl"
Sextons pure talent
Plaths Geniuse

Im glad you have such natural Talent
Emogothgirl
there are others (like Anc)
whom writes at such young ages
with bravado and boldness
that I waited until I was
cranky and old

But I know that for you the
world is still new
and Im not frustrated
but willing to wait and watch
those fly and grow their
own style and wings

there is nothing more beautiful
then reading works as this

I really like these lines:

you can stretch your babybat wings and fly off

to find someone else with ink running through their veins.

I also know the experience of waking up in the middle of the night with a poem's lines running through my head. As I scramble for paper and ink left bedside, for just such an occassion. Then scribbling madly by the glow of a night light.

a suggestion: lose the double spacing as it is distracting.

always, Cat