Oh shit no wonder i aint got much friends

LOL was digging around some stuff to transfer onto my NEW (and very first) laptop, and found some haiku. Part of the 'Ahhs and Awws' lol... Maybe Shaun Gannon wasn't so much busy as he was like, "wtf is wrong wit dis kid". A short poem while I figure out the rest of this computer thing.

Muff Diving Head First Deep into the Red Sea by Reprobus

licking at a gash
my tongue swishes all around
blood drips down my chin

Like, explaining and shit a poem I wrote, yea

I'm bored and don't have much time to write anything new, or edit. Which sucks. Figured I'd bust out one of my favorite things I wrote, and why I like it.

I wrote this on LPP within the first couple weeks of posting there. I like it for a number of reasons. 

Werewolf by Reprobus

Nothing in those streets, Nothing ever sleeps
So I am called to them every night.
The Somnolent Bringer,
The Sandman,
Is an asshole. He comes every time I lay and like an asshole
Instead of sprinkling sand into my eyes,
Blows an air horn into my ears.
So I move to make my way to the restless concrete.
I stumble from my covers tripping onto the floor.
I once read Nanakorobi yaoki
or something like that
Fall seven times, and stand up eight.
I am only partially faithful to this advice.
I never fall flat.
I never hit the ground.
I somersault and roll forward back onto my feet.
Is it God? Is it Luck? Is it physics?

I board my Focus.
With unlocking spurs, stab and turn.
It kicks up.
We pass Indiana.
Cross the border to eyes wide open
Whipping past the Indian trail.
A sunroof opens and on display
Dark and dotted like the streets of Europe with the plagued rotting victims
Stars litter the sky
Not a single one to guide
Useless like the dead.

It is desire and instinct, an animal calling, that leads us into and through
The Woods.
Into the Ugly
The Lit Up
The Thin
Where it is night and Spring is arriving as we do.

It is not the warming
nor the first Robin that flies in the sky
that signals the end of Winter in these woods.
It is the smell of desperation
Desperate formoneyforsupportforcrack
And the arrival of another flighty creature that lies with dogs.
The Snow melts. Crawling from her slum beds her torn sheets her stained sheets her sweat and spunk and diseased sheets
She exits her lair
but not before she prepares
weaves her hair
applies make-up here and there
and sheds herself half-bare
Donning red pumps
or black boots
She clicks and she clacks her way towards the very stretch of path in the Woods that we are making our way to, Me and My desire.

A crowd of creatures, clothed but still bestial
Surround the Eternal Lamb.
Curious I glance towards the feast

Knowing better
Aware of a more delicious morsel
I drive towards the Birds.

They whistle and snap their fingers wave their wings tossing feathers and cat calls and clicking their tongues
Peacocks desperate for attention Desperate for the money Desperate to give tricks and smoke crack.
Like a deer caught in headlights
But not frozen, rather engaging
The Birds flock towards my car
calling enticing seducing
Tweeting the same mating calls that speak to My desire.
But I did not come to the woods for them. My desire did not come to the woods for them.
Ravenous, I hunt you.
The scent of the Birds are but background music, subtle effects that drown under your melody.

Stalking down quiet Ashland,
closer and closer
and faster and faster.
I shed my wolf-skin.
I snap a collar into place,
Knock three times
You answer the door.
Take me in.
Scratch my ears.
Rub my belly.
Call me a Good Boy.
Whimpering, and flashing blue.
Comfortable,
We both begin to dress in fur and bite the collars off.
We feast.
My Howls answered.
My Belly full.

The Sandman has no power here, his air horn but background music, subtle effects when compared to the melody of your warm naked body.
My Desire slinks away to find another host in Chicago Heights.
We sleep.

Originally titled And I Duran, Duran So Far Away, I like this one a lot because it basically ends with me and my girlfriend doing it lol. The whole thing makes a lot more sense is you know the Chicago Heights area, and even more sense if you are my girlfriend lol again. 

What this stemmed from was from around that time, my girlfriend telling me that the smell changes in the Heights when Spring officially arrives because of all the hookers taking to the streets. I really thought that was funny, so I wanted to write about that. I was reading Prufrock in a class at the time as well, so I modeled it after that poem. The section here

Dark and dotted like the streets of Europe with the plagued rotting victims
Stars litter the sky

was created because I wanted a part like the opening lines that Eliot used. There are other allusions to poems I like, such as Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

The Woods.
Into the Ugly
The Lit Up
The Thin

and this section 

A crowd of creatures, clothed but still bestial
Surround the Eternal Lamb.
Curious I glance towards the feast

refers to a small poem I really liked by Stephen Crane, In the Desert. The eternal lamb is the 24 hr gyro stop on Chicago Road, which I always want to eat at but am kind of afraid to because there are always gangster's hanging around the place at 2 AM lol. 

I changed the title to Werewolf because I want to follow that sort of theme in 'Haunted Penis', and I plan on editing this, though I don't know by how much because this is one of the few pieces I threw up and actually like. Practically every part of this poem means something to me, and almost every word (save for particles, conjunctions and the like) was picked put carefully, despite the simplicity of the language. I also named it Werewolf because of the last bit. The whole biting of the collars part... well, the neck is a sensitive area. Kiss a girl a bit down there (or even a guy) and you can get 'em pretty worked up lol. 

Hopefully this doesn't come off as pretentious. I don't want to sound like my poetry is so cryptic that only I can explain it lol. I just wanted to share a bit about what inspires some of my stuff. A number of my poems are based around experiences and scenes of the Heights, and driving back and forth from state lines. Well that's it for now, maybe I'll explain some more poems later. Peace.

Haven't posted in a little while

Well, I finally got the internet back at home, but since I've got my refund check for school my mom refuses to let me use the computer. She says I have enough money for a laptop, and need to buy my own (not even joking here). Apparently my need to write papers for school, and you know do anything else productive like write poems, is unfair to my hippie brother who needs to get super blazed and watch 10 hours of Adult Swim reruns on megavideo. EVERY FUCKING DAY.

So I am still set back a bit as far as getting my blogs posted as much as possible throughout the week. The time I have at school so far is spent doing homework, which I am finished with for the rest of my break today. Posting shit now lol.

I haven't had time to edit anything as far as 'Haunted Penis' goes, but was able to quickly gather everything I needed that was already posted online. So I should be able to start that this weekend, maybe be able to get some preview shit out there in the next couple weeks.

My other focus has been starting 'The Dead and the Dying'. Got about 10 pages of that, completely unedited. Here's a little bit of it:

'Leant over the cliff side, Nanashi sees the bluebird

Streaking blue like his eyes, dive kamikaze

Into the black ocean, swirling pitch like his hair.

Inspired by such deadly avionic freedom

The brooding samurai unsheathes the short sword

And in a swift slit, loosens his intestines from bondage

Letting go of his mind and his head too

No longer needing his body to live

No longer giving a fuck

Nanashi takes the final plunge

Into the beginning of awakening'

This I built upon one of my very first poems that I published to LPP. Here's the original:

The Samurai by Reprobus

That moment, when I first saw him
my mind elightened.

Back straight, eyes shut,
Seiza’d and relaxed.
It was lunchtime.

With what seemed to be a carefully practiced level of non-chalence
he ignored the accessible design of the banana.

Similar to grabbing a chunk of hair and pulling with might until it pops with an equal chunk of scalp
the man removed the stem; he lifted the nail off the yellow finger fracturing the tip.

He did not undress the skin. Carpelly ignorant, the man gawkily rocked the banana between his palms, Indian drum rattle style.

A couple of seconds until he had nude fruit.

There was no savoring of this careless toil. And did not seem to have a point. For in an instant he swallowed the fruit and then the skin.

His bungling opening, his fumbling undressing were pointless.

I asked myself, why bother. Why not save minutes and eat the banana whole.

Then a moment of peace. I realized. Here was a man who perfected the art of not giving a fuck.



I take my wakizashi, I stab not slice an area and thrust my hand in. I pull out my intestines. I do not die though.

I ask for no assistance in my beheading. I use the inconvenient short sword once again and hack away at my neck.

My head is gone. Still I do not die. My organs are gone. I am still not dead. I am bloodless.

I am more alive then ever and do not need my body to live.



I do not give a fuck.

I really just liked that last little bit, about some dude that doesn't give a fuck to the level where he has completely destroyed his body and by no means could a person still be alive, and yet he still lives. All three of my Samurai poems will be a part of 'The Dead and the Dying' somehow; they will only be vaguely reminiscent of their original pieces.

I'll start posting some edited versions of 'Haunted Penis' soon.

Peace.

Car smells like vinegar... also, new poem

My car smells like vinegar. Or at least it did a couple days ago. Turns out moisture from the AC can create mold. Fuck. So I sprayed my vents with Axe. Bad idea. Last night I got some lysol, sprayed that shit again. Worse idea.

Driving makes me sick. For real.


Vultures by Reprobus

crippled on the cracked concrete

carrion gods crowd my body

pecking. My skin flakes

“WAIT I AM NOT DEAD YET”

That is what you think they screech

New poem; may possibly be included in my first chapbook Haunted Penis

I have two chapbooks planned out. My goal for the fall semester is to gather, edit, add to, and create a chapbook. Titled Haunted Penis, it's going to consist of haiku, tanka, and short poems only. Themes will be the supernatural, self-mutilation, sex, gore, and absurdity. Will contain a lot of my short bits on LPP, maybe some of the ones off AllWriteThen, and previously unpublished and new pieces.

My second chapbook, well, I want that to be a secret. It's going to take at least 6 months to write, and just as long to edit. As of right now I'm worried about the ambition behind it overflowing, but we will see. So far it's titled The Dead and the Dying, and all I'll say for now is it involves two intertwining stories; a samurai constantly reliving his final moments and a 20's something man descending unto the spirits to find his dead sister.

Anyways, here's a short fun thing I did. A collection of tanka translated from an alien language, lol.

Picked Up Some Signals Containing Teenage Alien Tanka, Translated by Reprobus

space gusts

suffocate, my lungs

fill with nothing

my heart is a black hole

no love is let in

no emotion escapes

I am anti-matter

anti-organic, anti-robotic

anti-dead, cosmic vampire

Wow... like a week or some shit since I posted last.

Well, I'm out as far as the internet goes. At home at least. I can still check my facebook from my phone, but that's about it. No updating blogs, or posting on LPP, or even email (my phone fucks up when I try and sign in to hotmail). Not all that bad though. I can use the internet at my girlfriends, though I'm not as enthusiastic about doing things like writing and shit around others, so.

Anyways, I've been using my phone and a notebook I've got to keep track of writing things and ideas down in the meantime. I figure I should try and get some shit out there that I've got so far then. You know, stay active. So here's a poem, which I will post on LPP pretty soon.

Read Between the Lines by Reprobus

Saw -ry
Eye m knot at owl
str8 --->.
butt Eye knead ewe 2 stahp
テ king evrythin Eye セ
sew litter rally
(h)and
★t 2 enter pit it.

Sent a few haiku to New Wave Vomit. Let's see if they get up.

I decided to send a few haiku to New Wave Vomit. I'm going to try and send shit out a couple times a week to a bunch of different places. Taking 'getting out there' seriously now. Here they are.

Kawaiiku by Reprobus

dripping wet, mewing

kitty wrapped in big towel

shivers and sneezes

Kowaiiku by Reprobus

out of my nostril

a centipede crawls, crunching

a piece of my brain

Rhymeku Kowaiiku by Reprobus

my chest’s blister pops

clear, runny liquid pours out

to the floor, it drops

The poems came from an idea I put up on LPP a while back. I wanted to make little genres of haiku, playing with the actual word itself. Kowaii in japanese means scary and Kawaii means cute, so I figured find imagery that is horrifying or cute and write about it. Rhymeku, well I just wanted to see if I could make rhymes in haiku form. What I got up there is pretty sloppy, but I would still like to challenge myself and try making some more.

Also awhile back, I asked Mr. Shaun Gannon if he'd collaborate with me making some of these types of haiku. I wanted to get a collection started of kawaiiku and kowaiiku and call it, Awws and Ahhs but both of us got busy. Haven't really gone back into putting any work towards it, though I do have a collection saved up on my phone. I think it'd be cool to look into, but I'm gonna wait now until I've got enough recognition to draw other people into the project. So anyone that stumbles upon this and is interested...

PS- My girlfriend just audibly AWW'd at the kitty one when I should it to her. Pretty much the reaction I wanted. SCORE!

That's it for now. Peace. 

New Poem, posted it on LPP already.

Got a new poem up, like shit, talking about beliefs and stuff. Yo.

Honestly, I'm not entirely an atheist. You see, I've got notebooks full of phrases I jot down when I think of them, and my phone's notepad is the same way. About 2 weeks ago the rhyme 'baking tips for an atheist' popped up in my head, and it's been sitting in phone since. I wanted to get rid of it because I liked it. So I tweaked it some and built a short poem out of it. Enjoy.

Jesus Falls Butterside Down by Reprobus

An atheist
gave me some baking tips
said to take faith and mix
it with logic, and take a taste of it.
What a waste. I spit
the chewed up bit
into the garbage, and I sit and pick
all the pieces of God outta my sandwich.

Mmm, delish…
…Bitch.

Posted a personal poem on LPP, emailed it to Metazen to see if they'd publis it... We will see.

I decided to post the most personal thing I've yet to write. 

My idea at first was to use haiku imagery to detail the abuse from my mom's boyfriend for most of my childhood. I sorta drifted away from that a bit at times, but there are at least 5 solid sections that follow this.

I also submitted it for publication to Metazen. This is my first time doing something like this. I really don't know how that's gonna go. I guess I will find out, hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.

Anyways, here's the poem:

Golem by Reprobus

  

My mom cries sharply

from the room across the hall

as a slap rings out

I am eleven

He shows me a Hustler

asks if I want it

My sister jerks back

Fingers weave into her hair

and tug forcefully

I am twelve years old

He shows me a bag of coke

asks if I want some

A welted hand print

stains mom's left cheek, dark and red

moist from quiet sobs

I am thirteen now

I scream STOP as he hits her

calls me a faggot

PTOOEY! spit flies

snot drips down my sister’s face

She sinks to the floor

I just turned fourteen

when he calls me a pussy

in front of his friends

His hand knocks her face

My mom's top teeth become gapped

Her lips swell and bleed

Halfway through fifteen

He beats me more frequently

because I'm a bitch

From over the phone

"I'll fuck your daughter's asshole"

He says to my mom

years slowly

reel out like this

My family broken

by the man who took my dad's place

Still

when I was 15 in the hospital

it was his name I cried for

and not my dad's

and it was then that I realized

I am just like my mother

and to this day

I don't even know

who I hate more

the man who left me to die

or the man that did the killing.