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Literature Text
Gypsy hopefuls once told me,
there are flights leaving for
any destination
at any given instant
Upon sizing up our town with
a fingernail
did you realise how little
our frustrations were?
I spoke about this ineffable feeling
of stepping out of one tub
and into new water.
The hotel was done up nicely,
chandeliers and polished English accents.
Labels aside they still mixed
milk into their coffee
and had toast with jam and butter.
I was living under the impression
that most of the Internet
came from my same slice of city pie,
conveniently forgetting about
the undersea cables.
I loathed the lack of vernacular
sentence styles and words.
She saw things through different eyes
and I understood her.
When I found out she was a writer
halfway across the globe
I was selfish
and I loved the world a little less.
It was different
but it was still water.
there are flights leaving for
any destination
at any given instant
Upon sizing up our town with
a fingernail
did you realise how little
our frustrations were?
I spoke about this ineffable feeling
of stepping out of one tub
and into new water.
The hotel was done up nicely,
chandeliers and polished English accents.
Labels aside they still mixed
milk into their coffee
and had toast with jam and butter.
I was living under the impression
that most of the Internet
came from my same slice of city pie,
conveniently forgetting about
the undersea cables.
I loathed the lack of vernacular
sentence styles and words.
She saw things through different eyes
and I understood her.
When I found out she was a writer
halfway across the globe
I was selfish
and I loved the world a little less.
It was different
but it was still water.
Literature
London
the city glows
bright copper, a scandal in
oil colours,
a luminous quivering waste
of fog and smoke.
I feel on my skin
the harsh glare of street lights,
a thick caking of
make-up, the lingering
sting
of a parting kiss.
these streets are a string
of catastrophes,
a bright orgiastic tumbling,
the future glinting red
in a wine glass.
Literature
Vienna
their dead never crowded
my mind;
I never lurched beneath
the weight of
too many bones
that were not mine:
rather, a kind
of hesitant symmetry
began to overtake
the place,
to invade the narrow crevices
where, previously,
a doubt had been.
I've been wrong,
all this time:
they are not laying siege.
they are waiting for
the inexorable pull of entropy
to break me
just enough
Literature
Love, London
Dear Riot,
It was your precarious posture that threw me:
You both sat and stood so dangerously.
Even as I swore to myself I'd realign those hips,
Your heart promised your hands you'd mangle me.
[we D E F A C E D the Baldwin in my mother's house,
lifting priceless keys with dirt-laced nails,
re-carving those seven ivories,
into things like thrift-store love.]
I sliced through ancient scars to resurrect my mob-mentality,
To purge my 'kingdom' of your peach-sweet tyranny.
My self-destruction leaves you pleading the fifth and toasting unaffectedness.
Don't let your facade fool you, darling.
You never mind
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The world is big, leaving a place means leaving the life you've had behind. The narrator contemplates how insignificant her frustrations were, in the grand scheme of things aka the bigger picture.
The main thought-rail this poem travels on is that of discovery and exploration, and finding out that places all over the world aren't as different as the narrator thinks it was.
The hidden implication is that moving to another place is as good as living the same old life, with the same people and same frustrations.
I wanted to write this because I was thinking about people's fascination on fantastical places, or even romantic destinations like Paris or Venice or things like that. If given the chance to go there would it really be possible to find something fresh and new? That's the whole point of travelling to different 'worlds', isn't it?
The main thought-rail this poem travels on is that of discovery and exploration, and finding out that places all over the world aren't as different as the narrator thinks it was.
The hidden implication is that moving to another place is as good as living the same old life, with the same people and same frustrations.
I wanted to write this because I was thinking about people's fascination on fantastical places, or even romantic destinations like Paris or Venice or things like that. If given the chance to go there would it really be possible to find something fresh and new? That's the whole point of travelling to different 'worlds', isn't it?
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