M Clement

M Clement Dec 2013

I could write lies
Sticky and sweet

I could write lies
Sticky and sweet

I could write lies
Please press repeat

Life set to rewind
Time set fast-forward
Learning things too late?
Is that the best
being haltered?

Take shape, dear poetry
Little, hiding words, implore me
Godly benevolence
adores me.

And what's there to say
At the end of the day
When the lights are on backwards
And my eyes facing forward

Rhyming with forward is hard
Rhyming with forward is hard
Rhyming with forward is difficult
And I want you to know

I could write lies
Sticky and sweet

I could write lies
Sticky and sweet

I could write lies
Please press repeat

Sorta wanted to write a song, but also wanted to write something. Been listening to "because the internet" by Childish Gambino; it's great. Also, this is sorta inspired by a blog post by Michael Gungor regarding christian music.

M Clement Nov 2013

I wrote a letter

I hope to turn it into a poem.
We shall see.
That's pretty much it.
This is a ****** poetry.

More a status update than anything. I think the last line makes up for an otherwise terrible piece.

M Clement Nov 2013

It’s freezing

Outside is a meat locker

33 degrees Fahrenheit

And we are all cold cuts
Preserving freshness
Through breathing

Thoughts and stuff as I walk around the city/campus.

M Clement Nov 2013

If at all…

I regret when I write romantically
It catches me off balance,
And, upon looking back,
I catch myself feeling disdain
For a me that was far too feeling than stoic
For a me who couldn’t see the future for what it could be
For a me who was caught up living in the moment
And not watching for the downward spiral

That being said,
I’m imagining a life with you
But I hardly know you yet
If at all.

I've written a great deal of feeling within the medium that is poetry, but I almost always find distaste in it. This is particularly the case with "love" or "infatuation" pieces. This is a not-so-subtle reflection on such, but the desire to give it up is filled with nothing but false will.

M Clement Nov 2013

Am I, truly?

Am I truly an artist
If I do not speak from lucidity?

Am I truly an artist
If my words do not keep me awake?

Am I truly an artist
If my art flows from a concoction of ability, timeliness, and boredom?

Am I truly an artist
If there is a struggle to find words left in these veins?

Am I truly an artist
If there is nothing more to say?

Am I an artist, or an imposter? Do I write, or mimic? Is there something here, or am I imagining things?

M Clement Nov 2013

Are there two?

Between two worlds
Effervescent body
Earthly ties

Contrived meanings

Words expressing experiences, they feel ridiculous, hence the ending.

M Clement Nov 2013

#somber

I still look towards you,
apparently, when I'm drinking;
I've done it sober, too.
I check up on you every now and again.
Hoping things are better than they were.

I imagine this on typewriter paper,
and I imagine myself a better man than I am.

And then I realize, that it's not, and I am working on me...
and that I'm sorry that I hurt you.

I often wonder if you'd have been better if I were never in your life.

I hate hashtags, but I also hate melodrama, no matter how true it may be. So while I feel this, I felt I had to offset it with sarcasm. Yay, let's hide our feelings!