You can't see me
But I can see you.
The cafe's full.
Words echoing off
Walls painted white
And you're all smiles,
Leaning in to press
Your point. She gets
It and so do I.
I'm the casual
Observer. Sitting in
The back so as not
To attract attention
Better suited to those
Pretty-pretty girls.
Compliments never sit
Well here and I never
Liked words dressed
For Sunday. So I
Watch. I wait. My
Turn's coming.
I've been randomly reading your work and this piece, to me, seems the most honest.
By that I mean the closest to who you really are.
Perhaps your guard was down, or perhaps you're f*****g with me.
: )
Your writing is intriguing, confusing, frustrating, addicting, and at times enraging.
Which means it's good, and it's interesting.
"Liked words dressed - For Sunday". LOVED it! So many sugar coated words & simply not enough time to wade through all the sweets! Besides, it only adds extra calories & and who needs all that extra baggage?!
I've been randomly reading your work and this piece, to me, seems the most honest.
By that I mean the closest to who you really are.
Perhaps your guard was down, or perhaps you're f*****g with me.
: )
Your writing is intriguing, confusing, frustrating, addicting, and at times enraging.
Which means it's good, and it's interesting.
:::snapping my fingers like a good, little Beat poet:::
Great write! Obviously a performance piece that should be immediately walked to the stage. Never mind waiting your turn. Kick 'em off and tell them to sit down and shut up, because this work is really all about them.
It reminded me of a time in my life, when I thought the world was mine. The countless hours sitting in the writer workshops of the real world; pen in hand, and furiously scribbling epics on coffee stained napkins. Darkened cafe's that were set up to be breeding grounds (boot camps) for the next Ezra Pounds and Allen Ginsbergs. I often wonder how sites like the Writer's Cafe will infuse themselves into that sort of society. Will they just assimilate to the world of literature? Cheapen it? Or, perhaps they'll overtake it altogether. I'm hoping that isn't the case, because there's nothing like writing in a poet's cafe.
Don't email me and demand I read and review your work. It's bizarre.
Wake me if you like me,
Wake me if you want me,
Wake me if you need another poem.
L'original style, au-del du blah bla.. more..