Please excuse the comma splices, tense changes, verbosity, etc. I was just a youngin' and now I realize the error of my grammatical ways. Plus, I preferred the flowery and descriptive writing styles of the early 19th century and beyond rather than the short, journalistic post-Hemingway-style of writing. I love intense imagery and descriptions in general. Still deciding whether I should edit my old poetry for grammar mistakes or take the Beatnik approach and fuck it.

Disclaimer: I only wrote/write on bad days. Grand days have never inspired me enough to write as I've always used writing as an outlet. A majority of my poetry is angsty, dark humored, or depressing, however, I don't have depression, and I'm not self-destructive or suicidal by any means. My writing is mostly a tenfold representation of the kind of day I was having at the time. Embellishing the realities of my bad days on paper helped turn them into good days. Not sticking my head into an oven anytime soon (or ever, actually). :P +10 points if you got the reference.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Ode to Lake Superior

Waters ever-so serene with peaceful weather while waves stall,
Roaring and tyrant waves torment the lake after the season of fall,
Seagulls, turtles, and hawks roam the shores,
Ferocious armies of mosquitoes, one by one, escape from Heaven's doors.

A freshwater ocean painted on a painter's canvas,
Claiming lives of the innocent by hundreds, alas!
Its rocky bottom, which many ships call home,
Ship wreckage of centuries, hidden by sea foam.

Hills and forests with colossal tress line its shore,
Sea monsters, ghosts, and other Lake Superior lore,
Varieties of fish in schools of many,
Superior shines, like a brand new penny.

What are the secrets of Superior, you say?
Well, I could tell you, but I only have a day,
What has happened in past histories,
There will always be undiscovered mysteries.

Copyright © 2007

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