Broken-down Poetry: Poetry as Therapy pt. I


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Friday, January 28, 2011

Poetry as Therapy pt. I

I'm working on a blog post for Scriptwriting about poetry as a form of therapy, which will go up this weekend, but for right now I thought I'd post an example of that. I hate that Dr. King and IWU students are reading this on their RSS feeds, because of the content of the following poem. (Consider this your warning.) But, remember that first and foremost this is my blog, not my IWU-affiliated Scriptwriting blog. If it offends--sorry. Maybe if you get offended easily, you should stop reading: HERE.



god, is this how it works—
you’ll speak to me only if
I’m a youth-pastor-to-be,
with a microphone and
microscopic wit, whose words
are amplified even larger

than yours?
Do I have to have
a faux hawk and f---ing
skinny jeans and a
Wesleyan theology
to carol your name

like angels?
Do you even listen
to skanks who sell their
self-esteem for sex
or addicts who always,
always, always, always

give in?
Doesn’t it seem like you’re
spending too much time
with those who are good
at looking good
but not with those who

Aren’t you impressed
by how well I’m
though I’m not
(even kind of, even sort of,

really) repenting?
Aren’t you tired
of being deaf
and mute?
Aren’t you sick
of being so


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