Random Response

Brittney

The life I live is not the norm.
Screams and crys fill my ears
Of thousand preening fans.
A sea of strangers
Not one who knows me.

I am alone in a crowded room.
Smiling zombies watch me
Waiting for me to stumble and fall.
So they can come engulf me.

No one to hold my hand
When the bright lights blind me.
No one to hold my heart
So love can finally find me.

Walking in a suburban wasteland
Vultures fly in circles above me.
No water to heal my burning throat
As my sight begins to blur.

The life I live is not the norm.
The flash of lights cloud me.
So many familiar faces, but
Not one who knows me.

Random Response

She Say What?


Yo?....Oh, hi long time no here...What?......Big Bob?  The one I rode last week?.....Male, hard headed, likes to lick.....Yea that's the one.....Wha?...What do you mean his gone?...Don't you keep that boy tied up?...That does not sound good... Are we talking about the same one?...Yeah, Yeah.....What?...Well that was fast. A new one you say...How old?...Oooooh that pretty pretty young.  Is he handsome?... Wild you say. How wild?.... Wow, that just gave me chills....Well, I'm on my way....What?...Ten minutes...Got to go home first...I might need my chaps and spurs to keep this one under me....Don't worry. I'll be easy on him...Bye, see you in ten.

JunkYard

1.  "Good friends are like angels you don't have to see them to know they are there."
2."Talk low, talk slow, and don't talk too much."
3. "A man's got to have a code, a creed to live by."
4. "Whoa, take'er easy there pilgrim."
5. "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway."

Reading Response #3

The poem ‘Dib Dab’ by Paul Beatty was very difficult to read. I had to catch myself several times and reread a sentence or two to try and understand what he was trying to say.  I soon realized that he was not trying to say anything.  As I read through I noticed that the character that was supposedly writing the poem had a great deal of knowledge in pop culture.  However, that does not mean the Beatty is all knowing, but the character he describes in the poem is, or at least in this poem the character is.  In class we discussed this poem and people were a bit confused about it and no one truly wanted to read it out loud.  I think that the reason this poem is so intimidating to other is because it is not in a form of poetry that we are used to.  It does not have a rhyme or have a set beat to it; so many people do not believe that it is poetry.  This type of poem is new to the world of poetry.  Like many types of art through out the ages like cubism, it will take a while for the common people to recognize it as art. 

Classmate Response #3

Studnet Response

There is a little red button
in the back of our heads,
That shouts at others
“Do not dare push me!”
My little red button
has been pushed
and this time it is not a drill.
The fuse is burning fast
The tick is screaming louder
The bomb’s about to blow.
I am quickly falling apart
piece by piece.
My screws are loose,
My legs are wobbling all over the place,
and my head is bound to fall off sometime real soon.
I can’t find direction.
I can ‘t walk a straight line.
I’m running into walls and
stumbling over misplaced objects.
I’m losing my balance more so with every tick away.
My chest is caving into my lungs,
collapsing my airways,
getting closer to inhaling my last breath.
My many thoughts argue with one another,
keeping me from remembering
that I need to find a way to
put myself back together again,
because it is my mind that is
connected to the other end of the fuse
and time is running out.
My hands are broken,
unable to grab anything,
let alone pick myself back up again,
or at the least screw my head on any tighter.
My screws keep falling out faster and faster
while my head is closer and closer to becoming unattached.
I can’t concentrate on anything
because that little red button is in the back of my head screwing everything up,
And my heart???
That was the first thing to go

i aodre the image of a red button at the nack of heads. I tink it's well strucutre ut other than the red button being anger it could represent more which could be expanded. Maybe a poem about the Staple's Easy button.

Posted by Lucas Chance at 8:58 PM

I enjoyed reading this poem.   It made the reader have to jump from one subject to the other as if they were the person who was falling apart.

Junk Yard #3

1. "Common Sense is not very common."
2."The only thing to fear is fear itself and spiders."
3."Compared the the universe we are nothing, but dust in the wind."
4. "Only those who risk going too far will ever know how far they can go."
5. "A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be your friend."

Random Impluse #6

Of the Wind

Sirocco the slithering serpent of the sea.  Sounds of Sirocco slid secretly through silent senses.  Senses of the senses shine sublime.  Shiny syrup of static seas the Sirocco. The small sitar of many sounds play subtle games on Sirocco.  The slippery notes slide over the swirling sea.  Calling the sleeping serpent above.  It is the silent scythe to sailing sailors.  Sirocco of the sea sliding through the steely waves.  Sirens dance to the serpent's beat.  The sitar with stale sin dripping like syrup from sticky fingers.  Draw the sailing sailors to Sirocco.  The sailing sailors sail no more.  Shining sunsets shadow the sea.  The sailors now sleep with slippery sirens of the sea serpent Sirocco.  Sirocco slowly slithers from the silent seas shooting home to sleep in the sea above.  Shining stars call to Sirocco singing songs of the sea.  The sitar stops its seductive tune for Sirocco is not more.  Silent waves lap sailing sailor's ships.  Sirens sleep as Sirocco slips away to the starry sky above the sea.

 

Random Impluse #5

The Ride

The sound of horse's hooves fill the night's silence.
They greet each other with whining whinnies
As one by one they walked into the warm-up arena.
The air is shadowed by their smoky breath as they snorted.

My mount neighed beneath me.
My heart was racing as the gate opened calling for my class.
He snorted and pawed his leg waiting for my command.
I touched his side with my heel. 
We shot forward.
His legs driving hard into the soft dirt.

The gate was narrow, but he guided us through with ease.
The bright lights of the arena blinded me, but my mount continued forward.
Cheers filled the room as we trotted towards the wall.
My heart was pounding with the beat of his hooves.

I pushed him forward, forcing him to trot higher.
The cheering grew as they saw his change
His panting breaths cue my own
We lap one last time, the cheers rang in my ears.


Sweat pours from me and my mount.
Our breathing is slow, but deep as we stand in line.
My heart has calmed as I pat my mount on the neck.
They call our name and he neighs his approval.


My last ride on my mount, but one to remember.
We trot one last time.
Screams and cheers filled the arena
But I could not hear them over his snorting breath.
Tears came to my eyes, but not from the cheers.
It was from the ride.