Museums are Everywhere!
Imagine the pixels on the billboards igniting;
Imagine them with wings;
Imagine them zooming through the air to you.
Wither with them or let them fling you into a plastic bubble.
Hues of pink spiral into hues of orange and it is blinding.
Only the brightest of yellows and the sharpest of blues survive!
Now they are swarming in and forming larger cubes.
Oh no! Now they are closing around you like a pair of slender hands!
Now they are fireworks turned inside out and you are trapped inside them!
It is a zoo in the sky,
and your elbows are awkward,
and your back is bent
and your knees are scrawny.
The skin on you is loose.
Come and see a man in an elephant suit!
The Title of this Poem Died and went to Live in a Library in Purgatory too.
i think i am haunted by all of the dead dogs i’ve read about.
that dog from slaughterhouse 5
and the sled dogs from that short story from the first issue of pop serial
and my own dog
and my dad’s dog that got killed by a bigger dog
all of them haunt me.
if i ever find myself as a ghost,
i think i will take my dead dogs and live in a theatre or the biggest library i can find
A Poem Written in the Digestive System of Ursa Major
i want to climb a tree and shout at the world:
come and be the NASA with me everybody!
i am staring at the stars
and it is like when you see an airplane go by
and you wonder if someone in the airplane is looking out the window and sees your backyard
(but sees it as the silly suburban puzzle piece it is
and not a lush carpet of grass and some aspens that send up shoots in the summer until you hate them)
it is like that but bigger.
and i am afraid of heights, but i want to go to the international space station
so i can sit in the viewing bay for hours and just watch the clouds swirl
suddenly there is no air and i am an astronaut with no space suit
freezing and exploding and imploding
all at the same time.
to counteract this, i go for a walk and listen to the traffic.
people are just staring straight at the road and not even thinking of being in outer space or Tibet or the circus
they just stare.
notice how earlier i said i want to shout “at” the world,
not “to” it.
I AM AN NOT AN INSIGNIFICANT BLIP; HEAVENLY BODIES ARE TRYING TO AXE MURDER ME
i haven’t stayed up this late since the summer
when i watched cartoons online until 3am and didn’t care
and now i think the moon wants to murder me
but i am underground,
and the trees on the internet are bending towards me
to protect me from the harsh murderous light
of the moon’s gentle rays
last summer moths swarmed everywhere.
sometimes you could go outside and they would collide with you
until you felt like you needed to take a shower to get rid of the moth dust and sweat
and i bet if i looked hard enough i could find a dead moth in my house somewhere
i am a dead moth of last summer
curled up in the lightbulb of you.
i think a moth that dies in a lightbulb is the ultimate metaphor for happiness
＼(^▽^＠)ノ ~*~*~ g i v e a w a y ~*~*~ ＼(@^▽^)ノ
hi do you like books and poetry? me too. i want to share with you. reblog this and you will have a chance to ~win~ (1 entry per person, idc if u reblog a million times heheh)
- ‘nine stories’ by j.d. salinger
- ‘eeeee eee eee’ by tao lin
- ‘norwegian wood’ by haruki murakami
- ‘ariel’ by sylvia plath
- ‘the forgotten helper’ by lorrie moore
- ‘blessing the boats’ by lucille clifton
i will pick a winner on monday and if you win i will send these books to you at any address in the entire world.
SJA hey you like me just make me win.
i love me some books
I’m Proud to Say I’ve Never Given Myself an A for Effort, at Least
sometimes i wonder how well love fits into any given metaphor.
like right now i am having the time of my life reading poems on the internet,
but my eyes are starting to sting
and to dry out at the edges.
my eyes are like a frog that dies by the side of the road in the sun in the summer,
he doesn’t get run over, but he just kind of sits there.
like my eyes are right now.
i’m only sixteen years old
and i don’t think i’ve experienced romantic love yet
because whenever i try to write about it all i end up with is dead frogs.
if romantic love is dead frogs then i think i’ll pass.
i’m prtty satisfied with being the heating system in a public building
emitting a sort of platonic warm fuzziness to everyone in the winter,
or trying to at least.
Kinetics (A Crappy Poem)
can you picture yourself and maybe four or five other people
as those balls that clack together and only the balls on the end swing
and all the other ones just transfer the movement?
i don’t know if i am one of the middle balls or one of the end balls.
i guess it doesn’t matter.
i never really liked parties anyways.
when i am in a crowd i feel like a bear in the zoo.
like i kind of want to maul someone,
but i can’t so i just shuffle along or sit thinking
i think about those balls,
and how i think i’d feel better if i got to be one of the ones on the outside I guess.
sorry, this one’s not very good. i don’t like throwing poems away though or letting them just sit there and go to waste. i worry that they will get really sad.
Achieving Enlightenment is kind of like Licking Crayola Washable Markers until your Tongue looks like it was Made by Jackson Pollock
hey I have an important message for you from the future.
in the future you are dead and there are sixty three worms eating you.
if you want i can give you my skin
if that is what it will take for you to scribble with crayons all over something,
then I will be happy to make a donation
hey lets chew bubblegum together
I dont like bubblegum, but yeah, lets chew bubblegum together
until worms are eating us or maybe larva.
it’s definitely larva.
larva is a more beautiful metaphor than worms
i think this is going to be the title poem of my first ebook. “’Achieving Enlightenment is kind of like Licking Crayola Washable Markers until your Tongue looks like it was Made by Jackson Pollock’ and other Poems” by Vim Finnish.
I’m about to try something fun. I’ve got 16 tabs of alt lit online magazines and stuff open and I’m gonna immerse myself in it all night long.
The rules are don’t sleep, write anything that comes into my mind and that there are no rules.
The official beverage for this event is Jasmine Monkey King Green tea.
The background music includes Colour Revolt, MewithoutYou, Listener, Modest Mouse, and probably some post rock and maybe The Unicorns and/or AWOLNATION
hopefully i will survive relatively unscathed.
i have literally four-and-a half-thousand lego people in a jar on my bedside table and i will throw the whole entire thing at you right now if you do not give me that cinnamon role. i will put you inside the ocean and then pour red food coloring into the whole thing and i am not even kidding so give me that cinnamon roll right now please. if you do not give it to me i will find one hundred octopuses and i will put them all over your bicycle. how bad i want that cinnamon roll is that i didn’t even say octopi but instead i said octopuses which is technically wrong. i will for-real put all of your forks in your garbage disposal and then hide a cassette player in your house that is the sound of a cat meowing over and over again to all eternity.
SPECIFICALLY WE ARE THE JELLYFISH EXHIBIT
i want you to literally spew your literature all over me
and i don’t even care if i have an umbrella.
i will even throw all of the umbrellas into garbage cans
and then when it rains
i will go into the irl
and shout beautiful things at the sky because it is infinity up there
even when we are cloudy
and even when we are cloudy, french can still be beautiful
i know it is a beautiful language
because in france one of the ways of saying goodbye for french people
is actually a really polite way of telling someone to kill themselves,
and it isn’t even mean or malicious or anything
i want to be somewhere across form other people who are throwing snowballs at me
and i want to change my name to “cancer”
then do nice things until people think that life is beautiful
and i want to go high-five a monk or a nun or an ocelot
and i want to be inside an aquarium that i snuck into after hours
all the humans are also aquariums
i often pick up feathers right off the ground where birds have dropped them
please recognize that none of us are these feathers even at all