Everything you read here is made for laughing purposes.
I laughed while writing it, I hope you will too while reading it.
Click HERE to read my experience.
Experience of an inexperienced twitterer
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My Twitter
Status
So, for some reason I’ve decided to make a Twitter account, even though I have no idea how that platform works, and I really don’t have the time or the nerves to read about that. There are simply more important things to read about.
That is why I’ve decided to make an account and just write some stuff there. See what happens. Mostly really bad jokes. So if you are interested and/or like bad jokes, please visit: https://twitter.com/loretnamm
Mind-o-scopic
Could you fall in love with someone’s mind?
For example, now, they talk about poetry,
and they are so serious and there’s fire within their words.
Or — you are watching the stars, it’s a quiet night, he is right by your shoulder,
Almost touching.
Nano-particles barely pass through, and it’s a bit awkward,
time is moving slowly now.
And you can feel yourself getting older,
But then he speaks about time;
about waves, about particles, and how light consists of both.
And he looks up, shows you the stars,
but doesn’t compare them to your eyes,
Rather, he says: „Did you know that half of those are probably dead?“
But that doesn’t make you sad,
you start to wonder why, and how nothing is as it seems.
There’s deeper parts within, microscopic bits and pieces (so weird!),
enormous Dwarfs, holes that are maybe holes (apparently not)
And dark matter —
It has no colour, but it’s called like that because no one really get’s it (that’s sad!).
And you realize now:
This world is full of mysteries, science is amazing in many ways,
if you know who to ask, where to look something up,
Don’t get confused on the way.
There’s misinformation, not to cause trepidation, I just want to say „Look out!“,
Think, and if something seems weird — ask, don’t fret.
You’ll find someone who ponders about.
But if they say it’s only how they explain
and it can’t be any different — Hold on!
Know very well, that’s narrow — there’s no absolute!
Science is evolving, changing constantly, even Stephen Hawking
changed his mind.
And that is a sign of a true scientist — being wrong is alright!
The important thing there — is to remove the mistake, so
if it comes from you then get rid of it, too,
there is no shame in that!
But we wandered off topic, my question is forgotten,
So let me remind you:
When will you fall in love with someone’s mind?
Doctor’s office
I
It was a month ago,
and I wasn’t feeling well.
My head started burning,
and I had mild chest pain.
I decided not to care,
but my anxiety was stronger,
so I turned to Google,
couldn’t take it any longer!
II
I tried not to panic,
but I typed WebMD
and there, clear and simple,
said: “You have 99 hits!”
My diagnosis:
“You moron,
go see a doctor,
here you can’t find help!”
III
“You have to go to this MD.”
Alright.
“Please, go there.”
Okay.
“We need your blood.”
Fine.
“More!”
Come on!
VI
Hollow metal pin
made me frown.
Yet again the velvety blue
spreads under my skin.
Cold, metal stethoscope
Rubs against my chest.
I’m naked from the waist up
in a sterile room;
and they all say the same,
but really mean:
“We don’t know what is wrong
But surely something is.
So go visit my colleagues,
who will then diminish
everything others said.”
Fuck that.
But I went nonetheless…
V
And here I sit now,
writing this poem,
not knowing still
if I’m really ill.
The Mechanism of Creation
Hi, everyone. This is something new from me. It’s prose!
“But, where is your poetry?” you ask frightened, uncertain. It’s safe, no one stole it. It’s fine. This is another part of my writing, the other side of the moon, if you will. Unlike the moon’s other side, this one isn’t dark. It’s bright and funny (I guess… it’s funny to me) and cheerful… but, it can be ironic, sarcastic and with just a hint of dark. Don’t let that perturb you, just keep reading, just keep reading… (that Dory is always finding her way into my mind! *holding my fists up in protest*).
So, yeah, this is how it looks like, more or less. If you liked this short intro — well then, thanks, keep on reading, if not — read anyway, the rest is much better, it’s about artists! 😉
Artists are a special bunch of people who have something others don’t.
That something is called a Mechanism of Creation.
Everyone is able to create something, of course. But, this mechanism is a vast network of interconnected elements: thoughts, dreams, experiences (life and reading), imagination, and that little thing called “something”. And in the middle of all of that is a Spark.
No, not the imagination one! Spark of Creativity!
That means:
- it’s creative (duh);
- it’s created;
- it’s alive.
The third one is the most important feature. It means it is susceptible to change. And so It does. So many, many times… until finally It is taken from the center, pushed through the smallest of particles of writer’s soul, concentrating into one tiny dot which then expands into a line, a light, a bolt, a rush through the body… and BAM!… Well actually, it isn’t a “bam” (unless you are a very loud writer), it’s more of a click-clack sound, or if you are old-timey it’s a pshh-hshh-kshh sound. Who knows what kind of sounds other artists make! Well, they do. They know. Ask them.
This Mechanism can be used to explain how all artists work. And that is why we are such a weird bunch, we are not human!
No, of course we are. This is just one of the ways I like to explain how I experience the sensations that happen while I’m coming up with something and writing stuff.
THREE
The Glass Desert by Noah Bradley.
Here is another poem from Oblivion Corpus.
*
You walk about your desert
Always trying hard to avert
Afraid to stay in one place
To disrupt your wicked dance.
Refusing to completely cease
You do traverse the sill
However you leave behind
All your hopes and true mind.
The suffering is deep within
You’re not letting anyone in
To do what you long for and miss
And then say you do not wish
To let yourself off your leash.
September
Here is a poem featured in CalendArt by the Balkan Writers Project. They also organized the Belgrade Poetography Exhibition last year, which I’ve already mentioned here. And, as last year, the promotion was fun and creative, a great experience!
Rustles — feverish, sore
Whistling — chronically loud
Eyes closed, September strides
overtaking what came before.
Weeps — rainy sweat
Whines — stormy breath
Embraced by nature rushes forth.
Who knows where it wants to go.
In a raincoat, looking at the sky,
I’m wondering: Will it arrive?
