In an attempt not to over-analyze the value of the first blog, I shall post the following poem, which I have composed in approximately 4 minutes . . . (inspired by the frame of mind developed pulling never-ending all-nighters alone with one's own brain) . . . and it's not even titled yet. I'm spontaneous like that.
In the early late-ish hours
Of the morning of the night,
One is led to think of right as wrong
Of what is wrong as right.
The edges of the clearest lies
Become the vaguest truth.
Beware of dawning brilliance
In the dark of sleepless youth.
*curtsies*
It's nice to meet you.
Knees and Students
5 years ago
2 comments:
Good work for four minutes. Your piece reminds me of a sonnet I read over at the Penwood Review (http://penwoodreview.com):
Upon the Indispensability of Doctrine
- Edwin J. McAllister
Think of every day beginning again,
Needing all your old truths reconfirmed
Of every night's reflections ending in
The kind of thoughts that got Servetus burned.
Imagine stepping daily out of bed
And into running water or a heap
Of tracts composed by heretics long dead
That piled up there while you were asleep.
At times I fear a creed is just a nail
To hang our souls upon before we sleep,
A spike to pierce the tract where we've detailed
The promises that someone else must keep.
I grip the spike and sleep and dreaming see
The nail pierce through the hand that's gripping me.
Beautiful! I completely understand where you're coming from. I'll start to get delusional and end up saying something really weird in a paper or something.
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