www.twitter.com/nickorsini …I will fill your feed with my seed.
My hair is piled like a sandwich-
grease between flopping locks.
My beard stinks like breakfast…
all undergrowth and stray pipe-
cleaners spiraling from my face.
And she grabs me before I leave-
just some words out there in the
clean, weather-broken atmosphere.
A hipster buttons a Naval jacket
as he runs up the subway ramp.
A prostitute with a broken heel
returns from a night of real love…
for one of the parties involved.
Sometimes my flannel is stained.
Sometimes I don’t eat anything
before four in the afternoon.
I should return my parent’s calls
and the voicemails left for nothing
at all. We live on our own today.
The movie of how we behave.
www.twitter.com/nickorsini ..this poem is a sad one. Follow me. Let’s talk.
She breathes into the phone, just a couple cracking notes
of an embattled melody and a defeated song. We used to
stay up, stoned, trying to dust, vacuum and mop…then we’d
staple up blankets and lock windows shut …sleep through
a Sunday, do our best to start our week without waking up.
Now she spits fire from a bottle.
Now she’s started to cough.
Now she will need tubes and clocks.
No one enjoys anyone that much.
I choose to remember us laying feet-to-faces in my den or
reading on the porch of the summer house we used to rent.
Our faces would be lit with soft black and white from the
documentaries that would play. Stories about musicians we’d
never know …leaving us lamenting our age and our days and
the funny way that time chooses people, but left us to float
on some endless, rippling wake.
One day I will bury her in the earth…
Going against all that she’d want.
One day my shirt will mop tears from
faces who enjoyed her only too much.
[video]
www.twitter.com/nickorsini …follow party?
My body took a beating as I flew off the swings…
and I connected inky stars as the ground came
into and out of focus underneath me. My friends got
busted on the reservation for being too high.
They stood with edges of sneakers hanging over the
steepest hill topping suburban homes none of
us could loan enough to buy- Patterning the roofs of
the couples hurt and the couples walking away from
things they built. We are the contractors asked to
watch over the construction of houses set on stilts.
And throats were paralyzed in the grip of cigarettes
and water bottles full of Jameson. The world clicked
by like a Rubik’s Cube- just some colors meant to be
arranged, but wrongly moved. My train tracks stand iron
quiet …waiting to shoulder heavy weight of the city’s
passenger trains on them. No one saw the police coming.
A town made of money erected out of warming worry…
Let them take us. We seen all we should already.
Anonymous asked: Where's the best place to start when it comes to getting your writing out there?
There are a number of steps to follow- including but not limited to these:
- First, you have to go through a myriad of different things. You have to have your heart broken, be the heart breaker, know what it means to be a great friend and know when you fail as a friend. I believe that great writing starts with the scars left behind by your life.
-Second, you must spend extended time away from anywhere you feel comfortable or at home. You don’t have to go away to school, but you should travel, take road trips, etc.
-Next, try to write something…three words, three hundred words, three thousand words. Just start writing.
-Next, read. Read books, poems, lyrics, DVD covers, blogs, articles, magazines, anything …read two books at once…read interviews and learn how people talk to one another. Read action movie screenplays.
-Look at that first thing you wrote. How do you feel about it? Chances are…you don’t feel good about it. Don’t throw it away. Tear it out of a notebook, put it away somewhere.
-Now think of the best night of your life. What did that feel like? Where were you? Who else was there? What did it feel like/smell like? Was the air heavy or light?
-Write about that night …but remember the details. Remember how people talk to each other. You can write it in a poem, in a song, in a book…just make every word count. As soon as words stop counting for something, stop writing. Make them believe it. Make them feel like they were there.
-Start another Tumblr blog. No reblogs. No filling it up with everything imaginable. Write in this blog. One piece at a time.
-Anyone you know who can help you spread the word- call them. Ask if they’ll publish an excerpt of your work in their zine, on their t-shirts, wherever. Make stickers and temporary tattoos. People like those.
-Don’t stop writing when you don’t get thousands of followers overnight. Don’t stop writing when no one will publish you. Don’t stop writing you when someone tells you that you’re wasting your time. Don’t stop writing if you lose your job…if you have to work a crappy job. Don’t stop pushing what you love doing.
-After all this, you may end up with a few readers…maybe a lot …maybe none. But you know what? Your writing will be out there …which is better than keeping it couped up inside you.
She spelled out her name with Smarties
in the cup holder of my car. And as I sped
down that hill that drops off…her name
became another jumbled clause in the
sentence that runs us on. I used to drive
my father’s V8 late down Parkway lanes…
I sped us back from Memorial Days filled
up to their brims with mistakes. We took
bathroom doors off walls to keep our friends
from drowning in toilet bowls. We put boxes
down garbage disposals just to watch some
teeth shred holes in cardboard. And when it
was all over, we took our baggy eyes all the way
back to our small homes and our small lives and
all the things our parents own. She spelled out
her name with bottle tabs and paperback scraps
in the sand under the boardwalk planks. When the
wind came, it rearranged the letters into something
none of us could read.
[video]
well hello dearest Tumblr. Happy Friday. That mug up there is from my screening of Can’t Hardly Wait.
So I wanted to just remind you that I like you all. Happy almost-Valentine’s Day…you guys have plans? I’m taking a darling lady to Medieval Times in Lyndhurst to watch some Full Metal Jousting.. write to me…you guys planning anything romantic?
Also: if you need some romantic words to help set the mood, you can download my poetry book, Bruce Willis with Hair for free at:
http://twowrongsmakeavice.com/2012/01/17/bruce-willis-with-hair/
On that site, buy my first novel too! Every one is $10 (that includes shipping) …I throw in stickers, posters, bookmarks, cards, letters, and a hard copy of the above poetry book.
I burned a dollar bill on a subway train today
and watched people chase the ashes as
they blew away. They hung on seats, leaving
specks and streaks of black, useless currency.
I roasted a cigarette outside of a Waffle House
somewhere in Florida’s warm chest. I searched
for some dollars to tip the carnival waitress who
lovingly brought us our check. But it was ripped leather
and flannel liner…some credit cards long since
expired. Dust on the speedometer gets us there
faster. We kicked up Waffle House dust as we left.
I burned a dollar bill on a line between two states…
and my feet never touched the ground. I was never
any place. Just the wind with charred paper dancing
on it…settling while I make heavy decisions.
tasteistheenemyofcreativity asked: this could be easy or this could be tough, i've read a bit of your stuff and i'd think its one of the beats but-- favorite poet?
I have two favorite poets- Dylan Thomas and TS Eliot. If you want to know the truth, I do read poetry …but I read song lyrics more. I just bought the M83 album, Hurry Up …We’re Dreaming and I had downloaded it a some time ago, but wanted to read the lyrics in the book. I also like reading dialogue …everything from screenplays to interviews. I don’t know if reading a ton of poetry will make you a good poet …I think you have to read a smattering of different things …but also actually get out there and get into trouble, fall into and out of love, feel things…everything from excitement to sorrow. Above all of it, if you’re going to be an artist of any kind, you have to pay specific mind to people. I used to write other people off as background players in my play or my movie …it wasn’t until I started seeing how inherently important each person is- from the best people and friends you have to the people you dislike the most…that I started feeling confident enough to write anything at all, even just in private.