#conceptpoetry

[ohiowriter]

https://my.w.tt/4ULdrTcp97

[ofsunsetsandasunrise]

Happiness Hourglass

What if, we were each assigned an hourglass which kept track of our happiness.

When the emotion changed sides, so did the hourglass. When in pain, it inverts one side, when happy, it goes back. The emotions on a scale, ranging from escalated to contemplating death . The pace of transfer different for each emotions. The positives against the negatives.

And once empty, two things could happen. If it emptied fast, without the in-between emotions, like contentment, peace,  we never got a chance to hold onto those feelings. The hourglass suspends, we become numb. Then, the pain, or the escalation, inverts it again, so that we may have a shot at experiencing the finer emotions, the emotions we choose to feel. Not the ones we’re forced to.

If the hourglass empties slowly, then we had time to learn to hold onto the in-betweens. The fights and the make ups, the failures and success. The hard work and just some raw luck.

We learn contentment.

[jesusroblesposts]

(De) construcción/ (De)Construction

<Bilingual post> ¿Quién no recuerda el método de creación propuesto por Tristan Tzara consistente en recortar las palabras de un texto, sacarlas aleatoriamente de una bolsa y construir un nuevo poema? Este nuevo poemario es una nueva versión de ese método de construcción en un momento en que nuestra literatura está necesitada del impulso dadaísta y de vanguardia creativa. Así pues, quien se haga con este poemario se encontrará con un montón de piezas de juguete con palabras inscritas en ellos, resultantes de dos textos preexistentes destruidos. De esta manera, el lector deja de ser un lector y pasa a ser un creador de poemas, poemas dadaístas que juegan además con el Pop Art al estar construidos, no sobre papel sino sobre un material popular y barato como son las piezas de juguete, llenas además de color. Con esto, el poemario es el mismo para todos, pero cada lector creará sus propios poemas, diferentes a los del resto de personas, como la vida misma: para todos hay sólo una, pero cada uno la interpreta y la vive de una manera, que es lo que propongo con la experiencia poética que (De)Construcción os brindará, jugando además con el elemento visual y plástico, al crear diferentes formas. Tenéis fotos del dos poemas en el post inferior y para adquirirlo, debes de reservarlo mandando un email a [email protected]. El precio son 5€ --------------------------- We all remember Tristan Tzara's creative method, which consisted in cutting the words of a text and then, taking them out of a bag in a random way, place them together to create a poem or new text. Well, what I offer with (De)Construction is a variant of that way of creation, a new version of a Dadaist experiment in these times when dadaism is more neccesary than ever to our literature. So, in DeConstruction you'll find a bag full of toy pieces, every piece contains a word which belonged to two previously written text, now broken and deconstructed into pieces. With that, the reader is not a reader anymore, instead of that, he/she becomes a creator of dadaist poems constructed with a popular and cheap material as toy blocks, so Pop Art also takes part in this project. To sum up, as happens in life, everyone will have the same poetic object, but every persone will enjoy a different poetic experience based on his/her own constructions and interpretations of this kind of "game". You can find pictures of two poems in the post below and, to get a copy of DeConstruction you should send an email to [email protected] . The price is 5€

[jesusroblesposts]

Poema 134

Poema 134 Jesús Robles 2015 Tinta sobre papel: {PIEZA ACTUALMENTE CEDIDA AL MUSEO REINA SOFÍA, DISCULPEN LAS MOLESTIAS}

[godtrel]

The Autobiography of A Schizophrenic

The happiest eyes must know the worst pain or none at all 

     and God don't like ugly so don't fucking look at me!,                                          I think, looking in this broken mirror and at my bloody fist                                    I'm still fucking pissed that I was even born

but I pray no one can speculate my suicide even                                           though I can feel thousands of eyes                                                            looking down at me about to jump.                                                                  My body stays going down as my soul shoots up.

I wish I had a heroine but the heroin will have to do..                                        the syringe, baby, the syringe feels just like you                                             and making love to you.                                                                                     My eyes roll back as I let the needle slip,                                                             a drop of blood drip                                                                                           and a bit of drool dribble from my lip.

I hope I finally overdose.                                                                                         I FUCKING HATE YOU!                                                                             you've found love in my company as misery always does                             and somehow you've drawn out my depression                                               making it feel normal because we share the pain.                                        

No, NO. You use me not to fucking kill yourself but,                                           it wouldn't really help much if I beat you to the punch.                                         I hate myself too much.                                                                              

More than you hate you and I'm a lot closer to the edge.                                My life's a cliff hanger and now you're dangling on my feet,                           I'm ready to let go, I guess we're both dead..

-Dauntrel 'KING Trel' Finn