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Literature
Like Wind, She Went Away
I've loved a girl for many years
With arms like wind.
She had thin legs and
Sometimes
Wore a dress.
And, like wind, she's drifting somewhere new
And I, without wind, see no movement in the
Trees.
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Literature
Sketch of Manhattan Sunday 4-29-12
Train
I stand among commuters, then enter
Fall asleep, awaken in tunnels of Penn.
I see the reams of pristine glass in
Liberty Tower... Freedom Tower.
It stands above what was years
Ago a void. That void spread.
It's a remarkable tower—people
Take photos observing it through
2-inch screens. I carry three
In my pocket, so who am I to
Judge? They're next to my car
Keys with a Fullmetal Alchemist
Keychain, because I am unique
And like both Anime and Poetry.
Trainride back, a man with a
Black mustache and green Nike
Shoes says hi to me, comments
On my My Chemical Romance
Gloves. He looks at me sardonically, skeptically,
Then, once a drummer, talks music with me.
Faith no More, The Clash. He tells me
Start a band—but tells me he's too old
To drum. He's shitfaced. I think of a silent
Drum set. I think What a hole the world would be
If we didn't have power chords. I doze,
Then wake up in front of a screen
With pictures of clean jet-fighters—
Implications of war. Implications
No
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Literature
After the Fall
After the fall
You think the
World will end.
Skies, wind and
The stones will thin
Like eyesight before
Sleep. And then,
Again like sleep,
Will thin the pain
And cystic thoughts.
Names. Possessions.
Mothers, seagulls
In the air above
Will cease when you careen with the waves because you
Are nothing like the weak and dead who predate you—who were dying for
Escape—who died
For escape.
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Literature
Heartfelt Romantic Poem
If you feel like dating someone
Make sure they're somebody
         That you can masturbate to.
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Literature
Why I Don't Watch Fox News Ironically
An enormous unshaven anus presents itself on my television
Screen. Rapidly, it balloons into a translucent mound of
Claustrophobic goosebumped flesh, and black, stiff, pubic hair.
         Fuck.
It says something about the Republican primaries and
One governor's speculation on Obama being a Muslim,
Ignoring the fact that
The hungry are in the streets somehow
Expending enough energy to keep their
Homes away from
Men who have
Thrown their compassion in
Echoey dumpsters—
Somehow they're able to
Sing—
Ignoring the fact that
To be a Muslim is not a
Negative thing but to be a
War criminal should
At least be worth commenting on—they show no
Footage of American
Dronestruck ruins in
Yemen. Nor does the anus reveal
Inexcusably plangent cries and colors
Of collateral damage of NATO bombs
Which deafen and ring out with
Bleaching unsettling whiteness—
The collateral damage have shivering arms
And eyes like lakes of forgiveness.
Some f
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Literature
Plea of Sky
I've prayed that soon in the landscape of human-forged there will be a collective impetus as abundant as clouds and gentle as vapors and concealed roadways in overgrown forests green and tan and temperate as freedom.
Sounds easy enough.
An impetus—a movement of freedom
Shimmering as freedom does—Freedom... at twenty, I've prayed for freedom, wrote of freedom, screamed at others and contemplated freedom—gave up meat and often cheese for
Freedom—masturbated alone—...
Others joke of bulldozers in rainforests while passing by children that have probably thought of suicide but think of the beauty of freedom too much to do it. Or maybe they just want to masturbate some more... or maybe that is freedom.
The cartoon bulldozers in
Republican jokes don't exist, it's a lie—the
Atmosphere is choking deadening torpor of fire. I
Am losing focus. Yes.
Return to the sky—look at the sky, horizon never a straight-across line, but...
Hills—a horizon of hills and mo
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Literature
Untitled Thought
To forget and remember are Human.
As I write I remember the songs that I love. They are
Electrical, light acoustic and large. I remember
The faces I love
The dead I will love;
I assert I'm not music, but feel
Beyond desolate walls and judgment of laws/
All life and all song are equal in worth.
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Literature
Music, Missiles, Law...
[Intense contemplation, the speaker is
Lost in himself and stares out
Of the skyscraper, only to look at
Another skyscraper of different colors.
He tries counting the windows
And pulls on his beard. Music
Is heard from the room next door
And a thought occurs]
Suicide
Never remembers the remnants of face;
Of shadowy bruises and lively mouth.
The Law never remembers the bruises in
Inconceivable prisons, which have been
Constructed in its Name.
The missile, never the turquoise mosques...
The Ocean never the pressure
From heavy leagues of deepness...
The song, never remembers its rhythmic Truth,
As Song is beyond self-consciousness, and is the culmination of Vision and the musculature of life.
Song moves forward, existing and, unaware it remains as motion in thought and echo.
But water, combustion and--
Where does that leave the other four? Missiles, Law, Oceans and...
[He remembers the face of a brother
With a mouth like wind]
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Literature
I'm Sorry I Made Fun of your Poem
You saw daffodils and the
Naked gleaming void of the
Galaxy and all it's joy
And arousing, distant fire
In daffodils by the shore.
No drama, no preaching. Just
Simplicity and a heart.
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Literature
Why I Don't Call Myself a Patriot
Ever look close at the colors of
blood? The red of the Stripes never shows up.
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Literature
Sonnet on Sixteen and One
Sixteen sleeping in Panjwai homes were shot
In screaming darkness. Marine saw folds of
Clothes, stillness and red, and after dragging
The bodies through dust, piled and burned them all.
One son survived. The New York Times says:
"Nine children is an Important number."
Nine children were killed in their sleep. "All of
His life the man had American Flags
And family." Sixteen means brutality.
I've seen a sergeant cry on a stool. He
Said "When we blew down the wall it collapsed, and
Under the dust and bricks I saw brunette
Curls. Kid's old mother cried in a corner.
I dropped to my knees and haven't moved since."
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Literature
Tired. Walking.
Tired. Walking.
Man with gray stubble beneath a frozen tree looks down at his
Nike shoes, tube socks, and says out loud to no one in particular
Show me The Way. I've walked
All of Montana and I am
Tired. The ground has been flat
And I'm tired.

He leans against a yellow Yield sign, panting, collecting thoughts.
He looks at his shoes. Sees a kid drive by in a car.

The Way is only what's behind.
And knowing this he walks
And follows the echoing car
And hopes that soon he'll
Find someone to talk to.
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Literature
Dialogue Between Friends
Setting: Brown and silver diner. Sun is down, lights are on.
Two kids talking, drinking underage. Boy's got bleached hair and an orange jacket.
Girl's got straightened hair, dark skin, Ramones shirt, white nails.
Boy's frenetic, going on about things.
"No, think about it—if you actually walked into a
Bar, and set yourself on fire right fuckin
There—just took a lighter laughed it
Up and said Fuck all of you
And burned.
People would remember that." He downs a third of his shot.
In the haze of the restaurant she asks "How long do you think they would remember?"
"Might vary from person to person. If you're burning in a bar like that, though?
That fucks with peoples' relaxation time right there. They're likely to
Remember, if you fuck with them, then. And if they blow up,
It'll end up on the news,
Which is more than most people get. So
It's not a bad way to
Get yourself remembered. Not a good way either though I guess
Since you have to die.
I dunno."
"Sometimes, I'll pass by peopl
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Literature
The Air at Night
I.
The moon isn't white and the clouds
Aren't black. The birds are somewhere
Quiet.
II.
Kid was on the roof three houses
Down. I heard his music crunching
Up the silence. Heavy guitars.
There's no stars in suburban air
So he brought his laptop out; blue
And bright.
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Literature
Frantic and Praying in a Crowded Place
I drag along two iron baseball bats in either
Hand and release a cry like heaving oceans toppling a cargo ship:
"Wake Up"
I beg—I beg the open air and beg myself and
Cry.
Wake up
The water in the ship is cold, the sailors,
Faces helpless, have never learned to swim and I
In the nameless streets Undress the city
With my eyes and uncontrollably I sob. Collapse. The buildings
Are vacant. The People are vacant. The portraits of people on walls are vacant. The cargo is
Heavy spoons, distinct red ties, and an unattainably expensive watch. I am not there.
The captain takes his hat off and, for a moment
Against the lightning and the Opening of the Atlantic,
Wonders if the watch is waterproof. He prays, but
As has always been the case, nothing Happens
When I say my name into the empty echoey air.
Skin revealed, I strike myself and cry out "Nietzsche
You were wrong I've never Willed of My
Accord" and shatter windows on a vacant
Bus and step on glass that's broken. It draws blood.
With one o
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Literature
To Those Who Rest, For Those Who Sleep
        What's to be remembered
        If We never Sleep, but rest without remembering Our dreams?
10:22 PM, October 1st 2011, you sat beside me in a long holding cell, and while resting
Deeply, face serene, You opened up and released a raucous moan
That dissolved the badges off of cops, and made the traffic lights turn green on every sleek
Black tire, traffic-droning intersection. Confounded everyone… drivers, crosswalkers… made
them all
Look up in the humidity, when they realized the roads weren't working anymore.
Still, it wasn't enough to open the lock.
With You I've searched for Courage, Triumph, Hell,
Suppression—glowing gateways and shattered paradoxes
And whatever's revealed We've scattered, accepted, kissed or hummed and kept Our hands
relaxed.
When alone, I burn through accruing thoughts in bathroom contemplation—
And on walks to trains and cars I'm cooled by good intoxication
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Activity


(cont. from rambling title.) ... Woke Up.

Oh the writing.
So many things.
So many works in progress.
And I'm starting a band.

ALTHOUGH years are an arbitrary unit of measurement I think this year will be infinitely better than last.
This is the year I'm gonna be a special artistic snowflake and
like
have people resonate with my art, and stuff.
So much stuff.
And hopefully I survive off of it economically because ahahaha I graduate this year.

Fuck.

Anyway I might start posting again.


-Corey
  • Listening to: Pink Floyd-The Wall
  • Reading: Snow Crash
  • Playing: League of Legends... so much.

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Corey
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
Name's Corey.

I currently reside under my hair.

I play guitar horribly with my face way too close to my amp, and it loosens the shit in my ears, if there's shit in my ears that day. It's kind of fantastic. I don't clean my room much.

I've been mistaken for a girl 3 times in my life, but that's okay because I like girls.

I'm getting older every day. But that's okay. (Fuck.)

Some writers that influence me are Haruki Murakami, Jonathan Safran Foer, Henry Rollins, Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Federico Garica Lorca. All of those individuals have changed me. Virginia Woolf and Rainer Maria Rilke are kind of awesome too. There's more, but, you get the idea. Hubert Selby Jr. and John Green? Yeah.

I'm straightedge and I RP and play lots of video games and don't read enough Homestuck.

I'm a poet and I want to be a novelist and songwriter and do readings and subsist off of that. Money's cool in small doses.

Once I invented kidbomb.
Interests

Groups

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:iconseiglie:
Seiglie Featured By Owner Apr 16, 2014   Photographer
Many thanks for the fav, really appreciate it.
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:iconselfrecyclable:
SelfRecyclable Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2013   Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fav on "Brother"! Much appreciated.
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:iconglossolalias:
glossolalias Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2013
thank you for the :+devwatch:! i really appreciate your interest in my work.
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:iconbluefluke:
bluefluke Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2013  Professional General Artist
Hey, thanks for the fave mang. :3
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:icontransienttophat:
TransientTopHat Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2013  Student Writer
Np =D. You got Hiro and Y.T. down. I literally just started reading Snow Crash. It's absolutely balls-to-the-wall beautiful.
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:iconjoe-wright:
joe-wright Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2012   General Artist
Thanks for the watch!
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AlecBell Featured By Owner Apr 16, 2012
thank you for faving The Poets' Night :sun::heart:
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:iconalecbell:
AlecBell Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2012
Thank you for your fave on Poem In Prose :sun::bow:
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:icontransienttophat:
TransientTopHat Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2012  Student Writer
Don't mention it Alec :)
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:iconspectrumadopts:
SpectrumAdopts Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the fave! :D
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