robobitchou (likeafox) wrote,
robobitchou
likeafox

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More poetry.

My last poem for Creative Writing 110. Woo! Ahem. I mean, I shall miss the class horribly. I don't know what I'll do if I don't have poetry to write at the last minute every week.

Anyway, this poem is a prime example of what happens when I become inspired by far too many things. In this case, T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", Oscar Wilde and "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and various other quotes, "At Swim, Two Boys", The song "Narcissist" by the Libertines, a poem a girl wrote a few weeks ago in my poetry class, and probably a few more things I'm completely forgetting. Yeah.

Anyway, here you go. Just FYI there is "adult language" in here. Ha ha.



Dorian

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
–Oscar Wilde

The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.
–The Picture of Dorian Gray


Tipsy two backs retreat
down darkened street
in heady buzz from liquor drunk too quick.
Converse in sharp words sweet to the tongue,
buttons undone.
Shined shoes scatter dirt-filled water.
But come let not words follow dirt and ditch–
tomorrow will come far too quick.

The night is wild and grey
as dandy stars ignore the day.

Beauty in his face and cheeks, an elegance seen
in youth, which luxury repeats. Yet,
Jealous whispers care too much
of happenings in back-room brothels.
They hate him for the object of his fucking.
Hate the ruined object, hate the subject.
His life that’s lived when every sin is wrung
from beautiful body.
Beautiful vulgarity
of a soul gone vile like poison weeds.
Lament, he says and means
to fall.

The night is wild and grey
as dandy stars ignore the day.
But sin that’s hidden festers thick
and lurid far from prying eyes
And, from understanding drink, loosened tongue
is quick in understanding.
What’s hidden must be shouted to the stars.
And Gray. I might be you, but are you me?
–Irredeemable?–
Perhaps.
–Some would make hopeless sinners of us all–
Some say we deserve the fall.
Tags: 87 thousand sources of inspiration, at swim, measuring life in coffee spoons, my poetry, oberlin, oscar wilde, t.s. eliot
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