Hello fellow prose enthusiasts,
We’re still riding the high of Poetry Night here at Medlit. We got to hear from students across all years (shout out to Trevor and Jon for making that sentence possible) and it was so refreshing to be able to share and express art with our peers. Thank YOU to everyone who came out, shared work, or expressed support- it means so much that this initiative was supported and appreciated. It was one of our favorite events this year and something we hope to bring back every term for 2017/2018 school year! So don’t fret if ya missed it this time around.
Here are a few select poems that were read at the event-
Exclusively on Venus
Roses are red / violets are transsexual / welcome to womanhood / now get to work honey
Roses are performative / violets are biological / I have very sensitive breasts / and so do your breasts
Roses are biological / you have the nicest skin / I can’t stop kissing you / let’s read more nondualistic queer theory
Roses are fed up / with our binary fetishes / I fucked my doctors / and stole all the medication to hide it in a cave and share it with other trans people
Roses have got me / up against the wall / kissing my neck / which is socially constructed to be a super hot strong feminist neck
Roses are violet / violets are roses / I really like you / I like you tube
Roses are born this way / violets have a lesbian streak / something about your dry sense of humor and our soft intertwined limbs / feels transcendently female
Roses are blue / violets are violet / roses are nonviolet / blue is bluenormative
Roses are from mars / violets had the whole surgery / setting up camp / exclusively on Venus
Roses have gone too far / not to be what girls are made of / I’m coming out / to my academic colleagues as a poet and I bet they will run away screaming
Roses are roses / violets are born this way / someone’s got a hoard / of heteronormative transaffirmation porn you say?
Roses are cheeky / I want you to fuck me / drown violets like an accused witch / in your arms which feel like mine
Violets got a name change / roses changed a pronoun / we ate at a restaurant / and forgot to put the leftovers in the fridge
Roses are trochaic / violets have their original plumbing / let’s march in a protest / then go home and we’ll cook something delicious and eat it with a spork
Violets are permanent / roses are impermanent / thank you for becoming me / offering to embrace your form your fate
Flowerbeds are umbrellas / umbrellas are rubrics / I support your identification / and your disidentification
Men are from women / roses are from Jupiter / women are from men / I can’t tell which is softer, your lips or this pillow or the snow descending gracefully outside
Discovered a Medlit member wrote this collection of poems and have to share!!! Click the image to read the collection 🙂
If I could help you If I could help you, buddy, I would I really would I’d pray for you I’d make muscles appear on your back I’d take you to a bridge that people think is beautiful if there were the slightest chance that you’d like it I’d get you that motorcycle Id put your songs on the jukebox if you were a singer I’d help you step across that crack in your life I’d die for you on the cross again I would do all these things for you because I’m the Lord of your life but you’ve gone so far from me that I’ve decided to embrace you here with my most elusive qualities You always wanted to be brave and true So breathe deeply now and begin your great adventure with crushing solitude Leonard Cohen, Book of Longing
We are taught that the brain
Is a set of highways;
But there are other roads, as well.
Scenic neural backroads
That are hidden from view;
Dusty and seldom used.
Sometimes we can see them
When the highways are down;
Or a stroke.
Our patient had a brain tumor.
We tested her highways
With a feather drawing;
“What is this?” we asked her.
And the answer she gave
Came by the scenic route;
From a bird.”
William Ernest HenleyOut of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds and shall find me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate,I am the captain of my soul.