Tuesday, 7 June 2011

the madness before the poetry.






outfit details:
dress - Aerie by American Eagle
vest - Modcloth
combat boots - Kohl's
*photos taken by the lovely Jena of Charming Anachronism*

I am a person who loves language and communication and the act of sharing thoughts and emotions with others, whether it be through art, literature, voice, or a scientific thesis (but I'm not much of a fan of that last one).  That said, sometimes I can get into a mood and no one understands what I'm saying.

That's kind of the point of it, though.  I consider myself a poet (whether a good one or not, I'll leave up to you), and I often find myself thinking in poetic verse.  The same goes for when I'm in a particularly photographic mood - I'll close my eyes and be so "in the zone," as it were, that I'll attempt to get the perfect focus on the insides of my eyelids!  True story.

Last night, I was Skype-ing with a few friends (oh Skype, what would I do without you?) and I fell into that funny sort of mood.  The one which prompts me to type or write (not usually speak - my words would get jumbled) exactly what runs through my brain.  That could potentially cause problems, if I were actually thinking in structured sentences and about coherent ideas, but I wasn't.  Here's an excerpt of my thought-vomit (or "the madness before the poetry," as my friend Julie phrased it, far more prettily).  [I won't be insulted if you don't feel like reading through this mess, I promise :). ]

*
I'm only because it's the golden gate bridge, and anything that purple can't be.
But you see, what if there's an organism hiding in the air, when it belongs in a darker, deeper sort of liquidity?
liquidity
liquidity
liquidity
liquidity
SUNSHINE!
Past future go going was going were going am are was going gone!
That's such a strange.....
bubble.
That's the point of the world and the thing that stands tall over an ordinary tapestry - like if there's a black box levitating under a label of superiority, you know, tumbling, and the droplets of condensation fall like acid rain when there's only smoky choking gas to breathe from.  Or a patriotic salute to the bending plastic of a different language.
Oh, and the shiny disks have eyeballs that watch when you dance in the water.
Not frozen but captive in time, waiting, for anything or everything and a drop of vinegar.
A word is a word is a pyre of malarity isn't what you think it is but orange in a bottle.
polarity
vulgarity
disparity
oh, rarity!
Double E and a method of splatters or sticksticksticksticking to the wall in an attempt to become invisible, or sunlit.
Supposed is a forgetfl instance in which only half of a numerical sign is representated.
They all go quiet because one is plenty of one in any instance because there is a pen and there is paper and then there is a novellic scripture of demonic reverence.
Anything sensical does be anything of belonging so whether there is a red red rose or a plastic smell hanging in the air like an execution the votive remains the same: empty.
Develop the picture in the ink puddles of a burnt-cold future, and when the hopeful sun has been swallowed by a foible faw saw, continue, because the watching is everything.
Continue dancing - it's only beneficial to sit when the legs are running through with tangs of itching brightness.
Barbed wire swirls around the wrist like a faux guardian platter of gunfire.
Can you follow?  Because I don't following the tense or the brain keeps moving and doubling back or the marks on my skin don't fade but if you use soap...
eleveneleveneleveneleveneleven.
*


Keep in mind, that's only a small excerpt of the nonsense pseudo-poetry my mind spat out late last night.  It frightened most of my friends at the time, in a laughing sort of way, but I think I could come up with some decent poetry using scraps of this.  Inspiration!

Do you practice any art?  Painting, photography, writing, whatever-ing?  How do you find inspiration?

Cheers!
Shayli

PS - I promise I'm not [mostly] as crazy as this post makes me out to be.  Maybe :)

PPS - I also promise I wasn't on anything illegal when I wrote this.... nope, just tired and in a strange frame of mind!

9 comments:

  1. Love the dress! It's very cute.

    I get inspired from images I see. Or I write. Usually somewhat novel like.

    I actually rather like your poetic rant thing. It's very pretty.

    Bridget.
    www.carelesslycarriedaway.blogspot.com

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  2. Aw, thank you so much!

    I adore writing, and images often give me great inspiration - so I guess my love of photography helps there.

    <3

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  3. Your dress is so beautiful! <3 And I love your hair! I'm envious of your gorgeous curls!

    x
    www.lostinthehaze.com

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  4. Why thank you, Jo! <3

    PS - I'm envious of your macaroons from your blog post the other day! I wish there was some place in my area that sold them, they're the best :)

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  5. Inspiration? Reading your poetry honestly.

    LOVE THE DRESS!! :D

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  6. "a patriotic salute to the bending plastic of a different language"

    That's a pretty cool line, I think!

    I get my inspiration from other people. Not insomuch as I solicit ideas, but I tend to write my best poetry when I've been moved by someone.

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  7. Lisa: Thank you <3

    Ian: Gracias! I agree about being moved by someone, too :)

    ReplyDelete

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