On My Drunken Poetry Experience

BLOT: (03 Oct 2015 - 08:36:38 PM)

On My Drunken Poetry Experience

How exactly the idea came to me to try writing poetry while drunk, I do not know. Surely I have actually done this before, though I can recall no time of doing so. I have done a few other odd tasks while drunk. One time installed a hard-drive and got Linux on it after a New Year's Eve party that everyone else was passed out at. I one time walked to a store, got quarters, came back, cleaned up vomit [not mine], and then did laundry until about dawn. I have read and played games, to varying degrees of success. But not, I do not think, engaged in poetry.

For the set up, I went to La Alameda and got a pitcher of Texas Margaritas. Drank most of it over about an hour or so. I have no idea what the drink-equivalency of that would be, but based on my levels, I would say about 8-10 drinks. Enough to get me past the buzz stage, but I was still coherent. More than I have drank in a few months, possibly over a year.

The second stage was I was going to try to work myself up into a rant. For whatever reason, it was too happy of a drunk for that. Of course the poetry is not exactly happy poetry, but there you go. They ended up being two weird poems mostly about social awkwardness, but being kind of ok with it and trying my best to be sociable.

There is only one edit below, where I left out a word I knew I meant to write. For the rest of the bits, though, this is exactly how I posted them. The first one took the longest, because at that time I was still out of it enough that I had a ton of spelling mistakes and struggled for a bit to find the rhythm of the piece. The second one came out relatively quick, or probably would not have come out at all. Below, I call them "rain" [it was raining last night while I was doing it] and "stage". In the original notes, it was "1/" and "2." That should brace you for the sort of poems that you are about to read.

Will I do it again? Nah. At least I do not think so. It was interesting to try, but as a pony it is a one-trick set-up.

Without further ado...

"rain"

Shadows and the half-beat. Let us sing 4/4 waltz, the end of reason and what shall, in truth, berate, how
might it illuminate and how might it
shape the glance in parentheses
and the anger on the sleeves of the taste

and I am going to find the eye to exist within, seeme seem seam
watch me
without, and whatever shall I feel because how can it matter when I feel struck dumb the taste of
Hello and how are you?

I WANT TO SHOUT.
I WANT TO CURSE.
I WANT TO BE THE

drops of chords in minor
FEEL ME, STORMS! I AM, NOW! Just thinking about

Smoke down the hall and my love is a curse of a mask because I cannot see what is
this is how my voice cracks, this is how I fall down, this is how
and it opens me up to scream, And am I being, am I fully?

i want to shout i want to be the

splatter catches on the window, a drizzle of sound, and I am lost inside the rage of missed
the cars with their headlights and their streets and their walks away from
my tongue catches on words that others can speak, catches on words that others can

BREATHE, me. Iwanttoshoutiwanttobethe

Hello and how are you?
I am the motherfucking rain.

"stage"

little doll on the stage, the dance of strings
and all the crowd all stairs and claps applauses
and then he bends, coughs, poignant
there in the corner the curtain closing
and puzzle shatters and the enigma pauses

and here is the story of the colors red and hue
when they rose in the sunsets and sunrises
and here is the story of blue and gray and green
when they fell into the final storm of irises

strings cut, humpty dumpty is the god of down
and the pieces damned to watch floors and ceilings
and the little doll all eye rises and awkward silence
and laugh and laugh and laugh the brilliance

there once was a man lost to space
who had a mask of marble for a face
and one day a blah blah
something something blah
and if you could. etc etc etc...someplace.

and here is the story of the words for shapes
and how the science of souls is crass geometries
and here is the story of the taste of the
faces look away into their own little universe
and the smile, so small but full of such infinities

little doll on the stage, the chance of fleeing
and this is the story of brown and dark and night
and this is the story of sunrises and sunsets
and puzzles shatter and the such bright, so