FREEWRITING EXERCISE #89

Photo by Craig Whitehead on Unsplash

An intruder in the garden,
two steps by two steps.

We are alone
but only for the brief period
between one hue of the sky
to another.

The sun sets
too soon
for any work to be done
and we are home again

Waiting for the minute hand
to lay itself on twelve

Twelve hands
Twelve bodies
Twelve silver bells

Chaos sprawling on a chalkboard,
skidmark green, bloodstain red
numbers and words all mud
there was some meaning here

when I write about this
we will be in the same unnamed garden
looking for the first sign
of winter’s wilting
and the wane of this

I call it this
I don’t know what this is
I don’t know if this is named
or if this is specific enough
to only apply to me
or us
or anybody within my periphery
bulbs in the distance
or bobbing on the water
the light dips,
and disappears,
and dips,
and disappears.

let’s go drown ourselves
in a pool of tomorrow’s luxuries.
let’s go throw ourselves off
into a cloud of serendipity.
let’s run into traffic.
let’s run like we’re invincible.

I don’t love you but I wish the best for you.
I don’t like you but I wish the best for you.
I don’t know you but I wish the best for you.

Or maybe that’s what the clouds meant,
that day in the unnamed garden,
morphing from one blurry face to another.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #88

Photo by Donna Mccoy on Unsplash

Variations on a theme.

The taste of freshly cut
pear in the mouth, the
off tune of seagulls by the pier.

The swirl of wine
in a green glass bottle.

In this poem, we are
going, back to a time
when we did not know what it took
to hurt one another.

People strolling down the sidewalk,
a hustle of seagulls fighting over a fry.
Two right angles
seated on the same bench.

I am not looking at you,
I am not.

All birds are the same to me,
all feather and chaos
in flight,
beaks scissoring to cut,
their throats all filled with protest.

I do not remember why
I remember any of this,
I do not know why
you don’t.

It’s a simple matter, really,
a scene from a time
one could
classify
as better,
but, for now,
has resigned into a box
in the back of a dusty storeroom
for which the door is always kept shut.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #87

Photo by Michael Jin on Unsplash

Imagine the head as a puzzle
box, thoughts like silver
bearings running through
a suspended maze, translucent
walls of varying colours, rotating
in the hands of some unseen
child. Imagine – silver,
dripping slow, hot
down the canal
of a prisoner’s ear,
imagine being lead
by the hand to a
field of flowers
before finding the gallows in the middle of it.
Imagine – the lack of surprise.
Imagine, peace and anxiety
muddled together in the same unwashed coffee mug
and you, hurriedly drinking the slop
to quench a thirst that never runs out.
Imagine being content to be
thoughtless and meaningless,
to float undisturbed in the ether
of God’s womb, and
to find no pain hence.
Imagine being
the only consciousness
in your sphere of concern,
and then rolling down a hill
into a busy intersection
and the middle of a 4-way crash.
Imagine confetti scrap metal,
imagine loud screech of claw on asphalt,
a tire burning to mark the occasion,
and someone’s quiet sobbing a week from now.
Imagine not being afraid of being afraid
to live, imagine living, imagine dying.
Imagine thinking at all.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERICSE #86

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Silence, then. Silence on a
silver platter, silence in the
central column of our spines.
Silence in the hallways. Three
steps down a wooden staircase,
the familiar gallop of a man
rushing on his way to work;
his hands running down the
bannister as though a flourish
on a keyboard. In the deep
thick mud of my insignificant
anxieties I find myself wily,
swapping sound for sound,
as if to put together a whole
different place to reside in.
At times like that I do not need poetry,
and this is a conscious reminder to stop
conforming to the squared box of my daily
reality, and to believe, to believe in a higher
order to all of this math, this give and take
of humanity and its relationships, the
daily division we sow amongst our
selves, the seeds of doubt sewn in
the folds of our brains, the notches
on our spines like bookends on a shelf,
sorting out these fears into little organised
militias, sending them out to
fight proxy wars against myself.

I admit that I am full of anxiety,
but I work on it

I admit that I know that I am anxious
but sometimes it really does feel bad
and I guess I have nothing poetic to say about that

I admit I admit I admit that I am anxious
that this will not be a poem but merely
a thinly veiled rant and perhaps dressed
in the sound of the present’s wrapper
being torn open on a warm christmas morning

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #85

Photo by Alicia Steels on Unsplash

Arms take to music, each limb
a swaying branch, my room an
opera’s booth; music streams
softly down the mountains of
my shoulders. I am perpetual
in rehearsal, drinking in the
introductory steps to how I can
be art, which is to say. how I
can obfuscate which I am to say.
I imagine the artist’s mind like
a clam, opening up to swallow
sand only to create a pearl.
Each grain stuck behind molar,
dagger-tooth, to change what
we step upon to what we place
above ourselves. There is an
uncertainty to how art is to
be practiced, and I find myself
musing about loftier concepts
even as I dance with nobody
in the curtained stage of my
5 x 5m room. A foxtrot, a
left step over a cliff edge,
a head full of rattle and sun-
spot. I imagine myself the
pearl and my brain a sponge
to be wrung dry. I find not
art but disappointment, but
most art is disappointment
with a bow tie, and maybe
most art is just not named.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #84

Photo by Paul Neil on Unsplash

Always defined by what we
lack, the donut made whole
with its hole. I am not true;
I have not been to anyone
it seems. In me, a lack of
concrete. Of grounding. A
closet full of masks – or
are they all the same face?
I have grown too weary to
try each one in the mirror.
So I find new ways to re-
affirm my selves – I draw
their shapes in ink, I call
them by their names, I
pull them by their hands
and I drag them under
the shower-head. All of
these are me – like roll
of a die, flip of coin. I
go to bed as somebody
and wake up as some
body. The mornings
are cold, but the light
still comes in to tickle
all our feet. Twenty
of us in a bed, at least,
it feels like, who knows,
who wrote this even,
and who will read this
aloud, and who will be
the one to propose
deleting everything,
who will be the one
who will learn to care
and who will learn
to not, who will be.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #83

Photo by Derick Anies on Unsplash

I have been careful recently / walking
about with my pockets full / of various
words and phrases I saved / for the day
when you make your way / back into
our house of joined hands / an arm
can itself be an envelope / collapsing
lovers into mirror-pools / looking for
much better mail routes / and a cafe
where there is nobody / who knows
anything about silent / dances under
the tables, a tango of / eyes across
the vast atlantic sea / and words
sent flying, reverse / shooting
stars, untracing / tails into
the sun, into a / different
pocket, which / will not
be found cold / not empty

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #82

Photo by Thomas Tucker on Unsplash

Always a catch before the deluge,
a notch high in the throat. Always
another head popping up at the
shooting gallery, another round
nestled in the barrel. There is some
predictability to this life, and only
a few likely ways for us to die. My
poetry no longer surprises me, so
I stopped calling it poetry and let
it take me by the hand. Bring me
down those unmarked alleys, you
unnamed, savage things! Handle
me roughly! Do not let me go
easy, drag the bitch out of me
and spit him into the pavement.
I want to see that motherfucker
glisten in the grimy moonlight,
the sheer shimmer of his smile
all cobblestone and patchwork.
If I call out my own weakness
will it follow me like a dog or
run free into the night like a
freed long-chained hound?
I want to see it disappear,
but I am inking my arms.
I am dipping my body in.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #81

Photo by Stephen Crowley on Unsplash

I wanted more to do with this patch
of dirt, this sad unsquaredanced
bald spot, where no grass grows
and where the spotlight shadow
of the neighbour’s fence stops
shy of this stage. I wanted to plant
a tree, where I could have built
a treehouse, because we know
colonialisation comes in steps,
and what better place to see
the same grey house replicating
itself in every visible direction?
When I feel like knocking on the
door to Death’s shack I think of
redecorating, I vase dead flowers,
pretty little things stuck in their
dying makeup, I throw away
stacks upon stacks of poems
by people I no longer care about,
because my capacity to relent
has relented, and given way to
ugly ugly humanity, and must
now take names at the door.
I’m kicking a can around,
walking in circles at 3pm,
the pebbles of a more
interesting possibility
rattling about inside.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #80

Photo by Kipras Štreimikis on Unsplash

Perhaps the trick to this is not to come into the experience expecting to walk out of it somehow more clever, with better hair or a more slender body. After all everything’s a trick of the mind, really, even the arbitrary flip-flop coin-flip box-office-crashing rotten-tomatoes-smashing nature of good and bad, because what’s really good at all anyway? There’s some clever guy, probably an academic or a philosopher or something like that who said the more you try to be happy, the less you will be. I say that’s something someone who’s already given up would say. I mean, if you never try to be happy then you wouldn’t even notice how un-happy you are. Perhaps the trick to getting through life unscathed is to use plenty of cliche – liberally. To sprinkle your morning coffee with words shaken out of the nearby newspaper, or BuzzFeed article, to tear off with your fingernails each and every label on every can of food you own. Can’t be too disappointed when there was never any level of expectation. I don’t open a silver cylinder expecting guts of beans, I open the tin to find food. I don’t go out of the house expecting to be surprised anymore, I find surprise. How can I be depressed when I don’t have any thoughts? Check my pockets. They’re full of nothing. Tell my therapist I’m leaving on the first cruise out o this country. Tell my dog I am taking her for walks until I can do it blindfolded. Tell the government I am doing alright. Tell my mother that I wished I were better to her, but no-one knows what that means.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.