sonvicosays said: Heyy, do you ever provide feedback/help/whatnot for poems?
of course! use the ask box here - whatever you want to know about poetry or writing in general. If it’s not writing-related, fear not! ask me whatever you like and I’ll answer it. I always wanted to be an English teacher, but never got a degree in education (mine’s in Film Studies) - so we can treat this like Poetry/Life/Pizza 101.
Pizza and Visine
There were horror movies
before you knew my name.
A thousand tapes recorded
when my parents were my age.
Stoned enough for car rides
and stolen-HBO for days.
An exorcism, a doll,
a maniac in a lake -
Pizza and Visine
cutting through the haze.
Where is Corbin Bernsen?
Still drilling away the pain?
There were horror movies
before we fell in love -
Before the town diner
stopped waiting on us.
My second birthday was
recorded over for
some static and The Omen
Michael J. Fox
I was dressed like prom-scene Teen Wolf
in my wayfarers and white suit. Halloween
2002 and no one had a clue what I was
supposed to be. When the cool kids
threw Bomb Bags into the “Sleepy Hallow”
dance, I was already in the woods - a tall
boy in a bag, trying to drink through
the mask. They gave me a prompt, told
me to write about my life in ten lines or
less. I wrote “I would call it a mess,
but that implies I’m clean to begin with.”
So I got counseling and detention.
We’re banned from the next dance-
me and a kid who decided to come
to Halloween as Ray Charles with
brown paint covering his skin. Offensive.
What would Michael J. Fox think of him?
The Last Burger King.
I rewound The Exorcist as I gave
you a minute to recover the gap
year from your graduation speaker.
My dad has this garage that he’s
still paying rent on, and if it’s not
too sad to smoke pot in garages in
your late twenties, maybe we can
re-work our resumes. I’ll add “78
OKCupid dates” you can add,
"Had some rent … never paid."
You asked about Linda Blair,
but my VCR fucked up the tape.
Did you know in the 90’s, they
decided on themes for every
Burger King? In the whole country,
only two were ever built. This one
is “Under the Sea” which is why
we’re in a plastic submarine with
Whopper crumbs on our knees.
I hung a Scarface poster in the
name of the American Dream,
at least the version I remember
from MTV Cribs when I was 18.
How The News Got Out About my Surgery Last Summer
These blue eyes will
never be blue again-
Now they’re rust-red,
drugs and anger and
I subscribed to the
news for a monthly
fee - It cost me my
best parts, parts that
One more time you can
hold my clammy hand.
But these hands will never
be unsure again.
Have you ever seen
that curtain, held open
by the ignorant? Behind
it is a surgeon with a
tremor, waiting with
some scissors. The
cure left a crooked
scar, an embarrassing
part of every summer.
this is a poem I wrote about a really, really cold girl and a boy who wanted her to get better.
nick orsini, formerly readattheshow
AdorkableLife is not a blog. What I put here, while some of it is deeply personal, most is universal and based on truths and realities we all see and feel every day. I’ve tried to limit my personal thoughts on this site to when people ask me things or when I’m feeling something I can’t quite write a verse about. Even then, I save most of those things for Thought Catalog. More often, I talk to somebody. Now I’m talking to you.
I want to tell you a story.
a cold transplant performed in an outdated kitchen.
I fell in love with a girl I could not keep warm.
No matter how I tried, all five-foot-five of me
could not keep out the cold. There are saviors
in books, then there are boys who can’t drive
stick. When you need one, you get the opposite.
Hand-in-freezing-hand, lips pushed on freezing
lips, I would dig to hell for the favor of warming
the blood under my skin. If I could just boil and
evaporate, I would matter in every state - best
of all, she could finally feel me on her face.
There is a line to be saved, a line and a list,
same as it is when you’re waiting for a pig
heart to be transplanted. The animal within
those survivors is how I saw her at the end.
She just needs one new organ and she will
ignite like a cheap burner- slowly at first, then
the rest with my lighter. But I can’t drive her
to that clinic; I myself am just too sick.
Nine Hundred Pages About a King.
I got some new followers on here. Here’s a poem, which is how this blog started, how it continues, and how it will never die. Follow me.
There is a book called The History
of Fridays with a foreword by green
strings on my knockoff Flying-V -
with a dedication to the Whole Foods
buffet. It is nine-hundred pages,
an epic tale of nothing, nowhere kings.
There are people born protagonists,
and footnotes we pretend don’t exist
because paragraphs should be perfect-
devoid of numbers in superscript.
We were just kids, PA’s in Yonkers,
pushing shopping carts full of our
best years. We went up the food
chain because we were starving -
and when no one clips your nails,
they’re best used for climbing. At
the end, every open-window refrain
that you sang and I played, is the
background music to conversations
I wish we were having. The History of
Fridays ends differently than it starts. Hold
on loyal reader. Hold on and have heart.
Coffee Filter Broke so I Brewed my Brains Instead
Monday Night Raw and Guardians of the Galaxy and Joyce Manor and Comic Con panel cell-phone footage and fantasy football and Real Friends and TNA iMPACT and Ring of Honor and my dog and my broken phone and my hot office and my Sharknado office calendar and wash and fold on a Monday and beef jerky from upstate and Steve Jobs and Steve Globs and the marijuana industry.
There was a United Artists theater that closed and they put all the seats by the curb. Now I watch movies in authentic movie seats that I bolted to my floor and my back is always hurting.
There was a wash and fold that closed. They gave all their best customers wafers at Christmas time. Tins and tins and tins of wafers were in a dumpster by the curb. Nothing can eat chocolate without hurting other than people, just ask the stray dogs.
Adoption day and Modest Mouse and when will Game of Thrones be finished and another top-10 on the internet with any editing and spending all my money versus saving all my money. I want to have enough to do both.