Post by CJ on Aug 23, 2012 18:03:07 GMT -5
This is just a place to put some of my work. Critiques are appreciated.
You asked me why I like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Perhaps it was stress or
the break-up or my job's lack
of liveliness that convinced
me to watch ponies who were
joyful and entertaining,
who went on vast adventures,
with dragons, phoenixes,minotaurs
and more,
transforming a silly girl’s toyline
into captivating inspiration,
far outshining a racist,
sexist director’s movies
of transforming robots.
2:58 AM
I curl up on the single seat plaid couch the way my hamster does in his tower soaring high to grayscale poster skies. Breathe in tart, drunken mess as he squats, twitching, in his seed collection and we feel the same agitation, frustration, contemplation, wondering how, when, and why the definition of “fun” equated to college students thrusting their drinks and hips away in the aura of mind numbing music. Our ears drum in participation, despite our hesitation, despite buildings apart he and I feel the plague atmosphere encompassing residences like wildfire, blazing until the cold wet hours of the early morning when I greet my small friend again. My feet dance memorized patterns to a Rocker’s Party Anthem, recalling I have to feed him and twist my head and hands to snatch his seeds in my loose fingers. My leg collapses into itself as I drop his food on the ground, my eyelids falling with it.
You asked me why I like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Perhaps it was stress or
the break-up or my job's lack
of liveliness that convinced
me to watch ponies who were
joyful and entertaining,
who went on vast adventures,
with dragons, phoenixes,minotaurs
and more,
transforming a silly girl’s toyline
into captivating inspiration,
far outshining a racist,
sexist director’s movies
of transforming robots.
2:58 AM
I curl up on the single seat plaid couch the way my hamster does in his tower soaring high to grayscale poster skies. Breathe in tart, drunken mess as he squats, twitching, in his seed collection and we feel the same agitation, frustration, contemplation, wondering how, when, and why the definition of “fun” equated to college students thrusting their drinks and hips away in the aura of mind numbing music. Our ears drum in participation, despite our hesitation, despite buildings apart he and I feel the plague atmosphere encompassing residences like wildfire, blazing until the cold wet hours of the early morning when I greet my small friend again. My feet dance memorized patterns to a Rocker’s Party Anthem, recalling I have to feed him and twist my head and hands to snatch his seeds in my loose fingers. My leg collapses into itself as I drop his food on the ground, my eyelids falling with it.
