Poetry rant.
Saturday 17th March, 2012 - 8:54pm with 0 comments
I know I’m not like a huge famous poet or some crap, and people probably don’t really know this until later on, or until they learn, and that’s fine, but I can’t help but get heavily irritated at people who write poetry and don’t put commas after the ends of their lines. Poetry is written and when it is written it is written with the notion that someone is reading it out aloud. This is what I think every time I write a poem. I imagine it being read out.
According to Wikipedia.org, this is End-stopping in poetry:
An end-stopped line is a feature in poetry in which the syntactic unit (phrase, clause, or sentence) corresponds in length to the line. Its opposite is enjambment, where the sense runs on into the next line. According to A. C. Bradley, “a line may be called ‘end-stopped’ when the sense, as well as the metre, would naturally make one pause at its close; ‘run-on’ when the mere sense would lead one to pass to the next line without any pause.”
An example of end-stopping can be found in the following extract from The Burning Babe by Robert Southwell; the end of each line corresponds to the end of a clause.
As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat, which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear.
Therefore, if you wish to indicate that the line of your poem is the end of a clause, you might want to indicate that with a comma. Seeing as the Wikipedia definition contrasts end-stopping with enjambment, you should understand that when a line does not end with a form of punctuation, it usually runs on to the next line.
This is why it irritates me when I see poetry written with no commas in a stanza, and I can tell what the writer is thinking: pause at the end of every line. Well baby, you gotta indicate it. I’m not reading your whole poem in a breath.
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I dislike this.
Friday 7th October, 2011 - 10:48pm with 0 comments
Fuck it all. I dislike the time I’ve used up on everything that I don’t think is as important. It would be, maybe in a different time frame, but right now there is just a mountain in front of me that won’t stop growing. Stop adding to it. Just stop. And stop being horrid.
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abundance
Thursday 15th September, 2011 - 11:25pm with 0 comments
Hi. Yeah you know what, fuck everything. I thought it’d all be okay, I thought my day was more than okay, but I can’t even say it’s better than that anymore.
I’ve noticed. Lately. I don’t know since how long ago. Someone will ask how I am and I can’t say “good” anymore.
It’s always “I’m alright” or “I’m okay”.
Fuck you if you pull the “only okay?” card. You asked how I were and you got a fucking answer. So you know… please, don’t pull that card on me. Ever. Instead of poking at how I am or how I feel, just drop it. Or if you know me well enough, maybe you know that I’m not good at all or that somewhere I feel kind of shit.
Whatever, screw you. I have this fucking ball shit thing… okay, an ulcer, in my tonsils. It doesn’t hurt but it’s uncomfortable as hell. It’s ugly. It’s gross and it makes me think I have tonsillitis. And yeah, I’m scared, I guess. But I bet that’s the thing that’s giving me headaches.
I hate everything. Fuck it all. I just wish it was okay, I wish everyone was okay, I wish everyone was as patient as some people are, sometimes I wish it was just different.
If it’s better, that’s even better. But at the least – different.
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A drop in the ocean
Tuesday 23rd August, 2011 - 9:39pm with 0 comments
So I’m looking at a map, and listening to music. And then I remember all that you ever do, just listen, or pretend to listen, and you could be listening to me. And then I want to rip the earphones out of your ear and ask you again, if I matter. How could you be so insolent.
Why do people have to go through bouts of silent treatment thinking that it’ll fix all their problems. Just because things don’t go your way, honey, doesn’t mean you should shoot down everything there is to do with it. Relationships aren’t a one-way street, it doesn’t matter what kind of relationship it is. If you really care about someone, if they matter, you would at least acknowledge that they exist.
No one is making you hold my hand and you aren’t chained to me like a ball. No one is making you do anything. But would you die if you actually showed someone that you’re a little more caring than your bitchy and stubborn demeanour? Let me answer that for you: no.
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People
Tuesday 26th July, 2011 - 6:48pm with 0 comments
What the fuck is wrong with them? Just about everything, whatever I care to see, it’s like the world has gone fucking insane. Almost exactly what James felt just a few weeks ago – what the fuck is wrong with everyone.
This, right now:
When a girl says “whatever”, she really means, “I hope you get shot, fall off a bridge, get raped by a shark, and then eaten by it.”
Mm.
Sometimes I get sick of people being idiotic. A lot of people need to grow up and grow a pair and get on with life instead of wallowing in some self-pitying hole. Another lot really need to pull their socks up and open their eyes.
Another group of people need to stop depressing themselves over the fact that they do not have a significant other. You’re bloody sixteen, cut the crap. You’re only bloody sixteen.
Fuck you. Yeah, that’s about it. Thanks.
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On idiocy and bother
Sunday 17th July, 2011 - 12:29pm with 0 comments
One thing I hate is when I wake up before my alarm, but I don’t actually get up. This morning was a perfect example. I woke up well before my alarm – I could have gotten out of bed, gone for a run, eaten breakfast and perhaps even watched Fantastic Planet before now. But now? I’ve been out of bed for twenty minutes because I chose to stare at the ceiling and out of the window and read random articles on the internet from my phone.
Yes, my phone is supposed to be useful in letting me check my email and keeping me organised, but when it makes me fucking lazy, it also makes me fucking pissed off. So, in the twenty minutes I’ve been awake, I’ve checked my email, started playing music, ate breakfast, filled up my water bottle, washed and cleansed my face, and well – that’s really about it. It’s fucking 12:27pm.
But well, I’m listening to 90s pop music. Is my brain going to work? Most likely not. Is my mood better? Probably.
What do I have to do? Well, I’m going to try and catch up on blog comments, I also have to revamp the fanlisting for metal music because I completely screwed it over the other week, I still want to watch Fantastic Planet but along with the chores and other things I have to do – hmm, probably out of the question.
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crying and shit
Sunday 10th July, 2011 - 11:09pm with 2 comments
fuck you far out I’m so goddamn sick of everything you fucking do
“you didn’t care at all”
fucking milk carton, I know you’re trying to cheer me up, just fuck off for the time being cos I want to fucking write shit.
Fuck you really, asking me shit when you never fucking listen to the answer. Shit head. I’m sick of everything I want to fucking run away and it’s not that fucking easy. Everyone says I can run away, I can do this and that and other things that would be virtually acceptable but here I fucking can’t because I just can not. Things are not the way people see them to be and this is the way I feel. I can’t stand all the things I’m going through and no one knows.
I just want it to be fucking ok
like it should be. I don’t expect someone to give me their fucking shoulder. Even an “it’ll be okay” or “I hope it gets better” would fucking suffice. I don’t expect much, fuck.
Sometimes, even just fucking presence of someone. Someone just fucking listening to me. Slightest touch of hand or some shit. At least to make me feel that the people I love are still just that – the people I love. Fucking little things that will make me feel fucking A-OK and not want to fucking slit my wrists like I did way back when, not to feel blood running across the skin where my bones is most prominent, not to feel like the pain is supposed to make me feel fucking better. Because I’m myself and I know more than better that I am not going there again. I can do it alone, I guess, but it’s fucking hard.
Then again, I don’t really care, because I know this fucking crap is just going to happen again, the same fucking cycle, until it is fucking appropriate to break free. Screw the fucking world and everyone in it.
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I just want it to be fucking ok
Tuesday 28th June, 2011 - 10:59am with 0 comments
Like I said. I rarely write “okay” as “ok”.
Somewhere in this… It is good to know my brother somehow feels the same.
I want us to get along. It is my one and only wish. To get along. Because from there you can find the real love and happiness one would expect from the word “family”.
I wish you fucking knew.
Posted in Contemplation, Rants | No Comments
warrior poet
Monday 30th May, 2011 - 1:09pm with 1 comment
I hate you. So fucking much.
I hate the fact that you’re biased towards fucking everybody. You should grow old (no wait, what the fuck, you are old), and fucking die. You should fucking stop talking to us the way that you do, treating us like shit and treating us like children. I’m sick of you bragging about the people you fucking know and I’m sick of you playing favourites with the people you fucking love so much just because some dickhead flirts with you.
You biased son of a bitch.
I need a Doctor.
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He moves in circles of friends who just pretend that they like him
Tuesday 3rd May, 2011 - 6:21pm with 0 comments
I don’t know how I’m supposed to understand any of this. You go and apologise… yes, okay… you asked me if I was offended… maybe I overreacted, but what you just said following your apology offended me even more.
And you, you, how do I just ignore it? I simply cannot block it out of my mind. It isn’t that easy. A lot of people try not to care what other people think but deep down we are all the same soul pining for acceptance in every which way. Every which way means everyone and everybody. It is human nature to care what people think and I’m telling you, I can’t just accept everything everyone is going to say or think about me.
I know I can’t change who I am, but I did nothing wrong.
Nothing.
All I tried to do was be nice, be helpful, just be a good person to the people around me, and you all treat me like I don’t exist. Just because you don’t know me properly doesn’t mean you can just disregard everything I do. It would at least be polite to acknowledge my existence when I say something. But no, I just have to be invisible. You’re all blobs of shit.
Seems like you do it to other people, though. So what am I to say?
And you – how am I supposed to even reason with you? I’m sick and tired of people just shooting down every fucking thing I say. It’s called opinion for a reason. It’s what I think, coincidentally, or not, and I own my mind. I can make up my own mind. You yours. And I will forever accept whatever people wish to say, but whether I want to believe that, act on that, or agree with that – or not – is my own want. My own want is put forward by my own head. So stop trying to pry your fucking way in.
To tie that up, I guess I do accept apologies, I’ll just try to develop a thick skin and not let anything pierce me open. The truth is that you are the same on the inside. Perhaps you just need to see someone just like you, and you will break. Because at least I have heart to be honest about how I feel, what I think and who I care about.
I will hate the 2nd and 3rd of May for years to come.
Fuck the lot of you.