When the Genie Copes (For Robin Who Never – But Always – Knew Me)

#33 - Robin williams

I

The news broke like your spirit –
slow, in the dark, in whispers,
and then on broadcast television.

I heard it 3 beers deep
at a birthday party
and thought it more fitting,
more your style,
to laugh now
and cry alone
at home.

Like you, I wouldn’t
let them watch the pain.
If they’re clever,
they’ll decode it someday,
reading subtext like fading Morse code,
staccato between breathless giggles.

II

The laughs broke like your career –
alien, magical, unexpected,
and then unstoppable –
until you finally figured
out was how to make it stop.
Make the denial stop
the cackles stop
the demons stop.
Please, please make the happiness stop.

And just a short night later,
you were no longer addicted
to attention, cocaine, and laughter.

III

The comedy broke your soul,
and then bandaged it only enough
to keep you
from ripping yourself apart –
for a while.

But you could never let the hurt heal
enough to scar over.
You’d always wanted to give them your blood
just to keep them joyful.

And as they wire one last smile onto your face,
we’ll keep laughing
at the memories you made
for us
with the destruction
of yourself.

The Words That Move You – Help Atlanta Word Works get to Brave New Voices 2014!

Team Atlanta's youth poets, coaches, and mentors. (Credit: Dwayne Boyd Photography)
Team Atlanta’s youth poets, coaches, and mentors. (Credit: Dwayne Boyd Photography)
I’ve got some good news to share with you all. As of June 1st, I’ve begun taking over the role of Executive Director for Atlanta Word Works, a youth-focused poetry and spoken word organization. The group is very welcoming, and they’re a great and talented group of youngins with a lot of poetic promise.

 

And since it’s a young, arts-education organization, my first honor as its new leader is to humbly beg you for money! (Classy, right?)

 

Here’s what’s up. Every year, Atlanta sends a team of 6 youth poets to represent the city in the Brave New Voices International Youth Poetry Slam Festival, which can best be likened to the youth poetry Olympics, and remains the largest ongoing spoken word event in the world. HBO even made an entire series in 2010 about the participating teams preparing for and competing in the festival – a platform for over 1,000 youth poets from all across the world to perform on an international stage and partake in fellowship with one another.

 

This is where you come in. We have already selected a strong team of youth poets, and have experienced coaches and mentors training and preparing them for the competition, but now we need the backing of our community to get them to Philly this summer for the competition.

 

 

I’m managing an IndieGoGo crowdfunding campaign to defray those costs.
Check it out via the link below. (Watch the video to hear me say smart things, scroll down to see a fancy headshot and bio of me as well.)

 

 

If you read/watch the IndieGoGo page and are still not moved to give away a chunk of your hard-earned cash, I understand. But, then please do me a big favor and donate at least $1 to the campaign. It helps the campaign gain exposure and makes it more likely to be featured on the IndieGoGo website for more folks to see. (And you get a swanky digital badge in exchange!)

 

And remember, sharing is caring! So please send to any and all whom may be interested in seeing the young succeed (and tag me or Atlanta Word Works too).
- Post the link to our campaign on Facebook for all your digital friends to see.
- Tweet about us to your thousands of adoring Twitter followers.
- Share the link with your friends, teachers, and fellow writers in whichever way you prefer. (Email is nice, but we’re not too picky.)

 

With your help, we’ll have the chance to put our southern city on the literary map and our team of poets upon the finals stage.

 

Many thanks, in advance, for all your support!

My Poetry Is Getting Some New Pages Love

newpages-logo

For those of you who may not yet know, New Pages is a great source and resource for writing news, information, and guides to independent bookstores, independent publishers, literary magazines, alternative periodicals, independent record labels, alternative newsweeklies. and more. (Essentially, go there and learn things.)

Today, I found out from one of the editors that my poetry website/blog has been listed up there as well, right alongside other prominent writers (such as Seth Abramson) and aspiring poets!

It may be but a small step, but it’s definitely a step in the right direction.

Check out all the blogs listed right here!

(P.S. – I also  wanted you to let you all know that I’ve been working quietly on a few different projects, and some of them are soon to come to light. Stay tuned.)

To all my new, fellow alumni

The degree we all fought for. (Photo Credit: Chris Barisich)
The degree we all fought for. (Photo Credit: Chris Barisich)

 

I hope the roller coaster was kind enough to you.
It may have tried a time or two
to dislodge and fling you
forty feet face-first into the ground,
but you held fast.

You rode the rails,
suffered through the hard banks,
and vaguely remembered learning something
about the powers of different forces.

I hope you’ve made the most of the ride,
because the next one,
whichever you choose,
is about to start in just a few minutes.

An Exquisite Corpse 30 Days in the Hole

(Photo Credit: Flickr / Johnson Cameraface)
(Photo Credit: Flickr / Johnson Cameraface)

[Below is a poem I’ve puzzle-pieced together using my single best line/stanza from each and every one of my 30/30 poems composed this year. I like to think of it as a combination of two, popular poetic forms – the found poem and the exquisite corpse – and I always find it fascinating to see how these lines and words can be re-purposed to create entirely new meaning with minimal alterations. If you feel moved by a line or are curious how it fits in the original poem, then simply click on it! Each one links back to the initial post.]

 

I

She rouses from a road bump,
spots me reading a book of poems,
and assumes me to be educated.

Her sweatshirt is rolled up like a bikini top,
unveiling her large stomach
with the pomp of a premiering vaudeville show.

She’s been unselfish since birth,
salt of the earth worth her weight in gold.
Sold down the river at her own demand,

she walked straight into our house of mourning,
wrapped her wise arms around my 11-year old frame,
and kissed my tortured mind.

She reminds me that spring is coming back for us soon;
we just have to spin the world a little more first.

But she’s been forgotten and forlorn,
a run-down ghost town
whose people left her long ago in heart
before she lost them to industry.

And I write to you because I loved, love, will love you
and I want to understand who you are,
who you were, and who you’re still yet to become.

Watch now how slowly a tear can form,
and then fall, when you’re crying
and think you have nothing
worth being sad about.

 

II

The sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me was
I want you inside me
and all my blood rushed center and down.

But you were supposed to be my sandbox, not my stone tablet.
Make me realize how quickly I would die.

Our void grows contemptuous,
widens with each jealousy,

sprouts a new offshoot so green,
so doomed to be forgotten.
And I hope your children grow up to be poets
so you’re never able to understand them.

I reread the printed letters from my lawyer,
make constellations of his patterned excuses.

I catch every person’s phone conversation
and reply to both ends, snatch their vested secrets,
could expose the truths of their youths.

But you haven’t read about me in your guidebooks,
and you’re not sure who to believe anymore.

 

III

Born of the same soured soil and tainted rain,
we did the only thing we knew how,
grew inward – tighter and tighter into each other,
hoping that our togetherness could save us
from the harshness of our surroundings.

But the darknesses we hold inside us –
deep and consuming enough to digest galaxies –
have somehow found homes in our foreign bodies.

And we are eroding within,
like our coast, ever crumbling into the gulf.

Grown men seek a fantastical world
where their monsters obey them
and not the other way around.

She had to have heard the morning moanings
of VHS vixens through thin walls.

Just shut up, sit down, and get lost
in this sitcom rerun with him for the third time today.

His self-slapped golden handcuffs keep him
tight where his boss wants him,
marionetting stability and rigidity
,
And our former selves fight inside to stay alive,
waiting for the worst moments to
resurrect themselves in their familiar haunts.

He couldn’t domesticate the beast with obedience;
his training just taught him to gnaw the wrong things.

We want to be brackish,
but fear what we may kill in the process –
some just can’t comprehend the water’s ways
,
filled only with soft breathing and flushed skin –
the work of an inexperienced child
who’d only before fucked women
to submission in his mind.

And your elegance and innocence couldn’t save you,
not this time.

One day, they’ll understand
the power of a peaceful moment,
the courage of calming the raging storms of their souls,
the wisdom of harnessing their ferocity for greater ends.

MY TOP 6 POEMS OF THE 30/30 POETRY CHALLENGE 2014

I like lists, and thus, I have decided to number out my top 6 most popular poems that now exist as a result of this year’s 30/30 Poetry Challenge. If you have a different favorite, feel that WordPress’ numbers are just off, or think another poem should’ve gotten more exposure, then please say so in the comments section below and let everyone know why.

Enjoy, share, say things, and thanks again for your support!
– Justin

Day 5 – People of the Megabus

(Photo Credit: Flickr / Ray Forster)
(Photo Credit: Flickr / Ray Forster)

In which I people watch while trying not to judge people.

 

Day 9 – E Pluribus Unum

(Photo Credit: Flickr / MaximMichael)
(Photo Credit: Flickr / MaximMichael)

In which I try to trade sex for love.

 

Day 16 – To The College Kids Who Only Came for Course Credit

(Photo Credit: Flickr / ISCTE-IUL)
(Photo Credit: Flickr / ISCTE-IUL)

In which I call out the college bros who aren’t even trying to respect the poetry at readings. 

 

Day 24 – The Top 9 Things Not to Ask a Dying Man (With Self-Given Answers)

(Photo Credit: Flickr / Frerieke)
(Photo Credit: Flickr / Frerieke)

If only all our lists could be this honest.

 

Day 25 – Half-Broke Horses (For Doc, Upon Her Retirement)

(Photo Credit: Flickr / Coen Dijkman)
(Photo Credit: Flickr / Coen Dijkman)

One of the greatest professors that Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College has ever known, Alene Harris, is now beginning her life of retirement. This is a humble poem in honor of her awe-inspiring career.

 

Day 29 – Things Tonika Taught Me

(Photo Credit: M. Janee Photography)
(Photo Credit: M. Janee Photography)

In which my girlfriend finally gets her poem.

My Words Would Like to Thank You for Making Them Feel Awesome

My words and I want to give you a big 'ole hug. (Com'on, lean into it now.)
My words and I want to give you a big ‘ole hug. (Com’on now, lean into it.)

Dearest All,

As of yesterday (the last of April), I have succeeded in completing my self-imposed 30/30 poetry challenge, and thus, I have conquered National Poetry Writing Month 2014! (Muwhahahaha!)

All sinister, cartoon laughter aside, a gargantuan THANK YOU goes out to every one of you who has been reading, sharing, and commenting on my poetic blogging. Your support and encouragement are appreciated beyond understanding (and it’s always good to hear your hardest words validated by others).

This year’s line-up of poems was bound to be different. As I had mentioned in my “preamble” to NaPoWriMo14, I challenged myself to be more open, more honest, and more vulgar (when necessary) in my writing. And with poems concerning topics such as sex, porn, libido, masturbation, pregnancy, depression, rude college bros, death/dying, judging people, abandonment/exclusion, biracial dating, religious tolerance, national pride, and environmental decimation, I think I did a pretty bang-up job rising to the challenge (in my humble opinion).

As a result, my poems hit a record high of 220 views on April 29th alone, and they now have an overall record of 4,444 views (and counting) — nearly 3x the exposure my poems last year had earned. Being more diligent and consistent with posting and sharing my poems this year certainly helped, as did the addition of pictures, but I also think my writing is improving with each iteration, and it’s still crazy and motivating to me to see how far they’ve come in a mere 30+ days. Most importantlyyour support has helped give me the confidence to consider writing as a viable life option.

The other half of this 30/30 exercise was to make myself build the habit of writing like someone who’s planning to make a career with his words. In his genius book The War of Art, author Steven Pressfield talks about what he calls “turning pro” — meshing your creative self with your business self, and knowing when to activate each. This is the beginning of my turning pro, and if all goes as I’d like it to, my next big steps will include getting published often in poetry journals and magazines, and then getting accepted into MFA in Poetry graduate programs. (Stay tuned for more on both fronts.)

In the meantime, I certainly plan to keep on writing more poems — just on a more lax schedule — and when I do, I’ll post them up here for you all to enjoy.

Thanks again for all the love, and please share my words with anyone else who may be moved by them as well.
— Justin Barisich
(Little Writing Man)

"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." — Henry David Thoreau

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