Author Topic: Reinhold's Poetry.  (Read 686 times)

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Reinhold

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Reinhold's Poetry.
« on: October 05, 2005, 03:26:44 AM »
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-Advice- October 6, 2005 (4:26am)

Record everything you understand. Erase frequently.

Find what interests your mind.
Digest it only with your heart.
Be surprised when it doesnít work out.

Numb your inhibitions and inadequacies.
Numb everything else while youíre at it.

Select your pretensions hastily.
Make your venire impermeable.
Market yourself as NOT fragile.

Take my advice.

Love.
Do not expect to be hurt.

Let confusion be discouraging.

Be wasteful.

Desperately seek enlightenment.
Settle for instant gratification.

(Start a blog.)
Obviously what you are doing right now is called (in my upcoming book of psychology at least) validation. I think it's a normal thing to do. People will reply, say anything, and then you're gonna do what you were subconsciently thinking of doing all along.

Reinhold

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Reinhold's Poetry.
« Reply #1 on: October 05, 2005, 03:40:49 AM »
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-Father's Day at the Sperm Bank- (Summer 2005)
intended to be put to silly ska music.

bought you a new tie
I even made you a card.
I want you to like it
because I worked real hard
i've waited for so long.
nights lookin' at the moon
so i sit at the sperm bank
(all by myself)
dad, I'm waiting for you.
 
**chorus:
it used to make me sad
it used to make me think
it's really not so bad now
i'm old enough to drink
i'm here every year, dad
and i've got you to thank
(cause it's fathers' day)
fathers' day at the sperm bank
 
it's not that i'm bitter
or all that confused
it's just i'm a bastard
and i'm looking for clues
i know it's not your fault
you don't know i exist
but kids at school didn't care
(they thought i was funny)
said my daddy was piss
 
**
 
maybe i've got your smile
i know it's not mom's nose
tired of explainin'
that my mom's not a hoe.
maybe i've got your eyes
that's what i'm here to see
you know those test tubes
(in science class)
are they related to me?
 
**
 
you needed some money
you wanted to get drunk
i really don't blame you
not for selling your spunk
i'm just kinda worried
'cause i have a slight limp
(for god's sake)
is my daddy a gimp?
 
**
 
do i have family?
am i maybe half black?
i've got a few questions
how much heat do you pack?
if you could let me know
i want to find a way
please won't you just tell me
(it all makes sense!)
if my daddy is gay?
Obviously what you are doing right now is called (in my upcoming book of psychology at least) validation. I think it's a normal thing to do. People will reply, say anything, and then you're gonna do what you were subconsciently thinking of doing all along.

Reinhold

  • The Master of Two Worlds
  • *****
  • Posts: 2452
  • Respect: +3
Reinhold's Poetry.
« Reply #2 on: October 05, 2005, 03:44:06 AM »
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-Cyrille, Pt. 2- Early September, 2005

I secretly dread little things
Your purchase of a dictionary
Perhaps Iíll be less useful, less interesting.
Not able to speak with authority
To say that American goodbyes
Need to take just a little bit longer.

If you wouldnít object
Iíd like to part as we did tonight
A little closer, a little slower
Your hands warm in mine
Your laugh fresh in my mind
You right up to me
With no gap and no need for language

If I were a little more bold
I just might find whatever it is in me
That produces talk in the place of action
And ask it impolitely to leave
So that I donít end another evening
With a poem that should have been a kiss.


-Cyrille Pt. 3 "The Rain"- Slightly later in Early September, 2005

The rain is not to be charmed or manipulated
Itís to take or leave exactly as it falls.
It may be appreciated, venerated
Its next arrival breathlessly anticipated.
But it may never be made to fall.
Holding even part of a falling body of rain
In open hands is impracticable at best;
Itís impossible to predict the next
Or choose the most beautiful drop
as it falls individually before you.
It may be redirected, interrupted, or collected and kept.
But then it is no longer rain.
For all that water may rinse away,
only rain may make something fresh.
Inadequate substitutes are often made
Existence continues complacently in its absence
Not all that comes naturally to falling rain
Also blesses that which is
bottled, pressurized, or manufactured.
The ephemeral rain has made ghosts of men.
Those who chose not to love it
Those who drowned in its passion
And those who perished while waiting.
Obviously what you are doing right now is called (in my upcoming book of psychology at least) validation. I think it's a normal thing to do. People will reply, say anything, and then you're gonna do what you were subconsciently thinking of doing all along.

 

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