totally fucked
it seems like these fucking days
half my friends are fucking for fun
fucking scared of ending up with by-products
like crabs or, fucking worse, kids;
a group of fucking unfortunate ones
aren’t getting fucking lucky at all
because of their looks or fucking personality;
some fucking crazy ones
fucking reproducing like rabbits
and ruining the fucking planet for the rest of us;
the lucky fucking ones,
getting it fucking on and enjoying being
able to stay in the fucking moment;
while the fucking saddest cases of all
are the ones denied by their own fucking bodies
which keep the fucking purpose from coming to fruition–
our fucking parents
fucked our fucking generations notions about fucking
and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it
3 thoughts on "totally fucked"
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Like all poems I write during this month, this one is totally generated the day of its publishing, often only minutes spanning between a conception of an idea and pushing enter to send it out to the world.
I started out contemplating on a discussion I had recently with a friend about their trying to conceive and the problems they’ve had around that, and unfortunately I’ve had a few friends who have had similar problems. That morphed into what I wrote, which I feel is still a very very rough draft, as opposed to all the other poems I write and have written so far, which I consider done once I send out, and often have absolutely no desire to revisit or work on.
My process of writing has been called out by Regina Spektor (well she wasn’t singing about me) but she said “you can write but you can’t edit.” It’s totally true and it’s something I’ve accepted about myself and it comes through in all the ways I try to creatively express myself. Editing for me is often done at the selfsame time as putting words on a page, and I try to make it all happen as contemporaneously as possibly (because some weird sense of myself feels like that’s the only way I can be true). I suppose a caveat to all this is often I repeat words or lines in my head in varying ways before I let them escape me, but at least 80% of the time once they’re down they’re down. And at this moment right here, I’ve gone back and reread over everything that I’ve written before to make sure this next sentence, this one I’m typing now, fits in and flows from what followed before.
I’m saying all this to try to explain why sometimes many others may view my work as completely unpolished or that there could be a few places here or there to make changes. For whatever reason, my brain doesn’t really work that way and I don’t like writing that way, thought I welcome all comments that I incorporate into my future going forward. I just have a hard time justifying going back and changing the past, even if it would lead to me having better work.
Also I was going to start this whole thing out by apologizing for the profanity, but fuck that. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, and hopefully the title and at the very least by the third line you realized how the flow was going to go.
Anyway, hope everyone’s enjoying the longest day of daylight.
Both the poetry and the explanations for it are successful…
We all have our ways
No explanation needed HB Elam
you’re just a fucking good poet