"capitalization" poems
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes
Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test
Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 5:19 AM UTC
What's it take
These days
To write a poem
That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest
Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?
Is it perhaps...
the "creativity"
of varied spacing
or... could it be..... the lack
of capitalization
the loathsome little letters
screaming out
hey, look at us!
... or maybe it's
the punctuation marks,
littered, haphazardly
through the text
(whether used correctly)
or, theyre not?!
despite worrds mispeled
and a grammar might is broken
can these gimmicks increase interest
though miswritten or misspoken?
Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
(or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
Praise for which we
Privately, desperately
Pray
Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism
Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes
Well, maybe not...
those gems are often ignored
cast-aside, unread, even abhorred
Why?
Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
of "the right way"
to write
to speak
to act
to live
to (fill in the blank)
No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!
And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way
Line
After line
Of synonyms
over
and
over
and
over
again
-----
What's it take
These days
To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?
But more importantly:
What's it take
To make my poem go viral?
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
What is a rhyme scheme?
What is a sentence?
capitalization?
Punctuation
What is a story?
What is a poem?
None of these things define writing.
You define it when you write.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
capitalization and pronunciation
is a thing of the past in this current state-
im not perfect
ill never be
I need something
a purpose
a reason for living
and a reason for leaving this part of the golden coast
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 6:46 PM UTC
If you care:
My
life is a little
box
and I dreamt of a
little box. The more I watched the less it
was. In
a solid white something. Lamps. A
table. Clothes. Proper punctuation and
capitalization. Unthinkable hopes
and blasphemous suppositions. Some force
that I can’t call God, just my sick
dream-logic, blew it to ashes. My world-cube. My mirrors.
My books. My awards and certificates and
All my precious stanzas. Cinders and pronunciation alone remained.
At this, I
smiled and
shook my soul
with the Prophet. My own music burst out
before me like mathematics
(My very breath guided by an
infinitely ascetic
sweep) and like oil paint (in
a world that glows
like neon and
breathes out empty
space) and I awoke from whiteness. I fold
myself into four
like the
secret of flight. But you don’t care.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 10:23 AM UTC
i once dated a boy who found it "adorable" that i know how to change my headlights
fill my radiator
change the oil
and notice every stopsign as i'm halfway through it
he dumped me via text
before that
there was a boy who loved my lack of first person capitalization
my over-use of metaphores and similies
the way i personify the night
and practice preforming poetry in the shower
he took off into the sunset with my journal in his shoulder-sack
and somewhere in between
i stopped asking myself what it means
threw up my hands
and learned to enjoy the ride
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
My name is bill, no capitalization, required,
the Writer will be ill, soon, once he gets me,
or my friends in the mail, my cousin e bill.
Won’t be far behind, a marvel of technology!
I am famed and legendary, but be wary,
we attack in groups and bunches and
don’t rely on hunches that you settled with us.
We don’t make a fuss or a muss, we will cut
off your cable, and internet, see?
Hydro and Natural Gas you can ill afford
to miss, we do pay dates, instead of play dates.
So if you don’t pay up we are through
with you, hope you can find your self in
the dark, call us and we will talk until your
cell phone loses power or they drop your
call from their towering collection.
So with affection,
from us named bill,
make a plan and a will,
to pay us on time, after
all it is your dime, until it
is ours, all ours.
You can take that to the bank,
but we will do it for you too!
Save you the trip...
signed the
bills
P.S.(we were going to list a few,
but we don’t name names, we
just collect Presidents and Prime Ministers,
they may be dead or royalty, but they are
acceptable to faceless nameless ones,called
bill(s), Thanks!)
©DWE042013
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
The thing is, I always forget what it was I had realized after I realized it.
That sentence is how it feels.
Like my mind doesn't really want an answer.
Like it gave up on looking for one so long ago, at least consciously.
There always remains a passive creep towards...
Something.
It's just YOU.
Well then, who might You be?
I'm YOU.
Three letter words with Special Capitalization Patterns remind You of God.
Fill Your head with GOD.
GOD.
For those who believe in God, they say, GOD exists.
What then of Me, rendered slowly and inevitably Fat With Disbelief?
I am the milk in a bottle in a small town in Texas.
I am the taste of nine-volt batteries.
Watch ME shadow the Sun.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
~
*prelude.
did you know that English stands alone as a written language requiring the capitalization of the word "I"... yet makes no similar provision for “we” or “us; a sad statement of self inflation. it was after learning this that i abandoned the rule in my own poetry.*
~
my i’s averted,
lowered, diverted,
reduced in size,
an exercise of
large proportions;
breaking down the me-isms,
finding room for we-isms,
to take the larger place;
create an i for seeing,
the case for simple,
smaller being;
no need to punctuate,
instead eliminate this
compulsion to inflate;
’tis my i-drop moment,
my i-reducing ointment,
these pupils are dilated,
deflating i and me,
enlarging we and thee;
finding that in i-reduction,
the eyes are widely opened,
thus to better see,
what i really need to be.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
the humiliation
attempting multiplication
is a discrimination
filling all emotions with frustration
trying to send help of communication
to a genius
showing no blood relation
in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx
introducing a collaboration
with letters sends a illustration
to the mind causing hallucination
just a pigment of imagination
slight vibration
desperately needing a detoxification
of education
to wrap your thoughts around this generation
seeking the need for popularization
but the mind is in a mental restriction
start a petition
to conquer the satan of calculation
but so far no documentation
of the closed corporation
of the mad minded mathematician
so you're living in devastation
suffering while you work at a gas station
from no graduation
or thoughtful congratulations
all because you forgot the capitalization
for a math symbol
on a test
because of the lack of specification
Make a reservation
for the realization
that math
does not
always make
sense.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
My cat’s interest is peaked by anything resembling the
slick plastic crinkle
of the treat bag.
It’s the only time she will approach me.
Besides when I actually have the treat bag.
Then she is a tiger
prowling around the corners of the kitchen.
The depths of her eyes are eerie green pearls
with shiny granite centers
slowly meet mine
that blue ball tinkling around her neck
as she turns her gaze towards me.
She can tell that I’m high.
At the computer
my mother is checking her mail
slowly
clicking
scrolling
click
click
she is hunting
and
pecking.
Mrs. Palese, my third grade teacher
would have been displeased
because we always kept
all our fingers on the keys
asdfjkl;
I think I’m one off
Now she’d be staring at me sternly.
A stern look.
Her eyes are just pools that my memory
can not fill
but I remember her hair
and I remember the time her husband died
and we each made a casserole everyday
as if lasagna would hold her at night
and tell her she looked beautiful in the morning
before she brushed her hair
or washed her face.
I remember she gave me my first communion.
I would get another stern look for my
Lack Of Capitalization.
But I would care just as much
as I did when that wafer
hit my lips.
I’ll give you a guess.
My mother is still checking her e-mail.
It almost seems impossible that she
is concocting real words
with that slow ebb and flow of fingers.
But finally,
the sun is almost up,
she is done
See you tomorrow, sweetie
she whispers,
like she could wake anyone up
because it’s already tomorrow
and she’s getting confused.
The quick rattle of pill bottles
and she’s gone.
And maybe I
the time
stretched
a
little
because
there are still five hours
until dawn.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
life has never been held within the ( parentheses ) of breathing and
the periods of sentences. see syntax holds no
importance in terms of the soul and beating hearts, and ( like ee cummings ) i have
never held enough worth in the personal to capitalize myself
but that was before i met You and realized that i have never felt life
(like being alive in your kiss) before that moment that You
turned me into I
and now
with all of my well-formed syllables and crafted lines
can’t seem to draw the image of this fate and the music of our
breath dripping across each others skin; no
rhythm of words could ever manifest within the capitalization of
We or the Beauty of Us.
but tonight, as we crawl beneath covers my blood will
approve of this garden between our curves and holding hands.
I will grow the sun to cast an eternal summer
within your smile
(streetlamp halos have never been enough)
but this poem will always say less than the tangible moments of
glances grazes and the heart I carry with Me (carrying it in my heart)
so it can grow like our family trees, reaching (higher than the atmosphere lifting her skirt
to hold in the immensity) their branches into tributaries that flow into being Alive while
the roots of your spirit sprout spores across my skin,
an addiction to slowly sharpen the moment into
our mouths
rising to breathe in the others breath
our tongues
folding into the song of each others taste
thighs and hands that grip
at the stepping stones you laid across your
stomach,
while a phrase more powerful than ( I Love You)
is carried within the gesture of your hips
and the lifelines of your palm
because i’ve never liked the way my
soul lumped beneath the confines of my skin or the way
the muscles of my body fell limp stretched over bones
until I met You. because You make me see
Beauty and emulate the existence of love and
when I try to remember a past without you, it’s less real than
every played out future held in your eyes
and our holding hands
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 7:26 AM UTC
Leaving class during an internal lockdown
Shooting elastic bands at the target we mounted on the wall
Shooting elastic bands at our teacher's hat
Hiding from our teacher with the hat
Naming the robot we programed in class: Clive
Bananagrams
Ditching gym class
Talking/lying our way out of trouble a lot lol
Making elaborate plans to do very odd things (and playing pink panther
music as well as mission impossible music when we did it)
Putting mistletoe everywhere in the school at Christmas
Texting quotes of the night
Writing fictional stories and sending them over text to each other in
parts at 2AM
Writing poetry
Learning the Greek Alphabet so we could play Greek Hangman
Creating numerous extremely complicated codes where punctuation,
capitalization, "accidental" smudges near words and how you
pronounce certain words is significant.
Always buying the same drink at Starbucks
Eating a ridiculous amount of free samples at the Fro Yo place
Skipping down the hall happily in our gothic spiked clothing. Just to
confuse people. Watching the looks we got.
Writing limericks in math class
Playing Go Fish with our bus passes and when the teacher came over all he said was: Oh! Who's winning?
Playing full tackle basketball...when we were supposed to be playing badminton
Filling a friend's locker with stuffed animals while they were away and texting them to warn them we put a lion and bear in their locker
Inside jokes: Whiteout, Whip-cream, We-are-the-crazy-people, **** that's a fiiiine shoulder! Pass the coke!
Playing Quarto during Science class
Playing boggle during religion
I miss that grade. I wish things could go back to the way they were, but they really can't ever. I miss being so young and innocen- hahahahaha okay, not innocent but young and crazy. I miss when there were not scars on my arms and my soul.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
dreamingswanseyeaperturesboxboatsevergreenstarzenithgazing
~
while dreaming,
i became a swan's eye,
i was dreaming through both its apertures at once,
clicking separately, click, click shuttering
both sides from out a box, or from out a feathered,
living boat, or two, severed visions
superimposed:
evergreen under,
star over at a zenith
gazing twice over
paddling under
~
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
Adorned with light
****** to this bleak existence
Aware of self serving secrets
My muse, my god, my love
Cast away these shadows
Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent
May you watch over me until we can be together again
Everlasting love; it never fades
Help me to be strong as I wait to join you again
Only time and space divide our union
Masks off, truths told, hand in hand we walk
Eternal love; it lasts forever
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
i will ban
syntax
grammar
i will banish
sentences
phrases
clauses
i will evict
capitalization
i will exile
all punctuation
i will relegate all of these to the
circular file of written expression
it is time
at long last
for words to
squirm and falter
but ultimately prevail
in their singular
splendid
glory
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
i only write in capital letters for a purpose
when my words are silent, i don't speak up
capitalization is symbolism for power
for cries and outbursts of dreams spread forth and shot down
because of the american dream
i only write in capital letters WHEN I WANT TO BE HEARD
to put forth an emphasis on my actions, to mask true emotions through my powerful speech
i want to write your name in capitals just so you know what you mean to me
(YOU)
(YOU)
(YOU)
YOU are ENOUGH
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Correctly speaking...
We do not call an animal "it".
We do not call a baby "it".
We do not call he or she "it."
We do not call ourselves "it."
And what is most strangely odd to me, is that...
"correctly" speaking:
We do not call [G/g]od "it".
--
We call [G/god] "he".
He.
When we absolutely know what "he" means in the English language;
it means that the object being represented by the word is in fact, a male.
But even to call [G/god] "she" would not satisfy the feminist in me.
For "she" would refer to [G/god] as a female, of course.
How are we to identify someone or something to contain a *** and gender,
when we have no evidence or implications whatsoever of this speculation?
The Bible states He, His, and Him, repeatedly, no doubt,
but this lack of reference was the only known outlet to Scribes.
The capitalization [G], as to give [G/god] a name -- humanization & personalization,
but this is more of a veil to shield our own humane needs,
because in observation, it appears that this given Name
was given to help our immediate understanding of the subject;
an identifier.
Of course, everything should have an identity;
that is what a noun is, after all.
If it has a voice, and words, and advice,
it must be a person.. We say.
If it can teach and listen and punish,
it must be a species, a being.
Well, indeed, it is. But not in the way you and I
normally think of this notion.
And should [G/god] be a proper noun? Well, of course..
It is almighty!
(Notice the "it".)
So, God.
Just like other proper nouns, it is the name of a name within a name.
Ocelot, for example, is a cat within the noun "cat".
BUT
God stands alone... It is no noun within a noun.
Or is IT?
"God is a chariot" -- stated many places. "He flows throughout all, within all."
(There's that "he" again..)
It is true! God is a chariot!
God is in me, and in you;
it is in everything;
it makes everything;
it breaks everything;
it is.
You are,
for it flows in you and is a part of you.
And if you exude this piece of your soul,
it will be obvious that God is no he, nor a she,
but it is something inside, waiting to be shown.
It is something to be seen physically-- through action and care--through art and stare.
Anything imaginable, God is in it,
which if I look back at this text and think correctly, you are in it.
You are everything,
because you are a part of everything,
because you ARE God;
You are the creator of your world,
and the eyes of how you see it;
As am I.
So start acting like it,
because everything is an extension of your inner-self.
This is a thing that should not be looked over,
and should not be considered above you,
although it is a higher power,
it is a power within you, that you can achieve.
Nothing worth achieving is low;
you must rise up.
Be godly.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
The Sage is short and compose of circles.
Flattened circles, not ovular.
A roundness that is not portly nor lean
Just round, simply circular, simply his shape.
The Sage speaks with contrasting sharpness,
A voice angular, particularly his laugh. Cacklingly
Angular. Unexpected laughs seem demonic.
But The Sage is wise and sometimes even holy.
The Sage talks about fuel to push young artists.
Graduate schools, challenges, gasoline to blaze and extinguish.
I consider the role of Serious Artist, capitalization so telling
And am curious if that is me, if it could ever be.
The Sage knows but wants me to search
He knows but isn’t telling
You’ll have to wait, the Sage says.
I’ll show you, soon, when you stop searching so hard.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
Two Spruce trees stand,
one sits.
Three Ravens Caw,
one sings.
Four men contemplate the future,
one is.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
When I want to write
And the words are churlish and
Sluggishly slow in coming -
And even when they come
They linger at the door-frame
And rub their soft cheeks
Against the painted grain -
I read in a special voice.
Sometimes it's the voice
Of my English teacher from
Junior class. We didn't get along,
But not a word passed her
Lips that wasn't as gilded and
Mellifluous as edible gold-leaf
On a chocolate-chili sundae.
Or the voice belongs to
Rives, who plucks meaning
Out of words like candy
Out of an Easter egg.
He savors every syllable
Like it's an annual treat
And lines them up neatly
In his throat like some kind
Of spoken-word songbird,
But the things I write are
Least likely to be read aloud
By Rives and my English teacher.
(And reading in their voices
Seems too proud.) So I pen
The last of the stragglers down
And clear the alien voices out
Of my own (often sore) throat.
I enjoy my words, wallow in
Phrases, and praise lines of
Alliteration about as often as
A soldier runs past shelter
Helter-skelter and takes his
Chances with unfriendly crosshairs.
My voice quavers, quivers, shakes,
And shivers when I read my work.
I find every letter and line
And nuance absurd, but
I keep myself in check. Editing is
A controlled demolition of
Punctuation and capitalization;
Sometimes the "submit"
Button is hard to hit after
Splaying one more page of
Myself into crisp computer print.
But I breathe and repeat
The words that are lodged
Under my ribcage like a
Stray bullet: "You are not
Superlative; you are not
Fantastic; you will not be
Famous; you will not be
Any better for a long time
And even then you may be
Terrible, unbearable, and
Infinitesimal,
But everyone is."
click
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC
you are the color in between all of the other colors
you don't care about the spectrum, you are an entity
i don't love you to the moon and back, i love you more than all of the stars in the galaxy
i love the way you capture everything i've ever loved
you are darkness
you are light
you have depth
you are whole
but that doesn't mean you're perfect
you are unlike anything i've ever seen
you are magical
you are the feeling i got when my dad tucked me in at night
you are as sweet as the memory of me dancing and singing in the rain up and down the street i grew up on
you are beautiful
but that word is so cliché
it could never define you
you are something that i've dreamed of
you are like déjà vu
you aren't like the nightmares that follow me into the daylight
you are what holds out a hand and tells them to stop
you are the feeling of having ten blankets on you but still being comfortably cool
you are the nicest pillow i've ever laid my head upon
you are the reason my tears stop pouring
but sometimes you are the reason they pour
because you are so complex
and i long to understand you and fear i never truly will
because you are grey
you are everything and nothing
empty and full
the space in between
you're indescribable
so this poem with incomplete sentences and no capitalization
can't come close
to everything that you mean to me
you believe you are a spec of nothingness
and that people can walk by you and not remember you
but you're unforgettable
you're captivating
you're the emotion in my ellipses
you're... my favorite color
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
ah
gotdang
im tired of all these ********
not using proper grammar
for goodness sakes
this is brutal
i desire to capitalize
but in my minds eye
the goal was irony
irony for all the people who intend
and all who dont
to ***** up the english language
as many wont
its funny
im not mad
just be glad that we can type in the first place
and read and write
and understand and fight
for what we believe in whether or not we are wrong or right
in the end
this is for you dear vandals
dear robbers
dear crooks
robbing the english language of its odd sort of beauty
its backasswards
ridiculous
difficult
wonderful beauty
whether young or old
you make me squirm in the worst sort of way
i love you
God bless you children
because its taking everything in me
not to yell at you
instead
look here
ill join your ranks
i will mess up eery single grammar right
and do write by eery grammar wrong
no commas
one capitalization
no proper i's
and only one apostrophe
no quotations
no brackets, no parenthesis
no subtlety
only irony
and me writhing on the floor
bad grammar kills
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
theres something so final about a period
which is as it should be
commas always get in the way
coming and going like anxious insects
trying to make themselves important
as they scatter over a page
already overrun with too many words
question marks have a slightly
swooping profile curve just above
a period
theyre kind of elegant
they remind me of a swan
with a regal attitude
i saw once on a pretty pond
parentheses embrace words like **** curves
and brackets are like steel gray bookends
fencing words in
exclamation points are so abrupt
and rude and angry
like an outburst
in a classroom
like fireworks
in a funeral parlor
dont mess with them
they mean business
hyphens dashes colons semicolons
apostrophes
and quotation marks
that surround what we say
and dont forget the ellipses that
take the place of
words we omit
sometimes i like to write stories and poems
with no punctuation no capitalization
no grammatical rationale whatsoever
dare i ask
how did i do
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
This is lies! All of it!
Wait, what? You want me
To tell you how I feel?
Are you insane?
How could I
Possibly do such a thing?
Oh don't get me wrong
If course I want to
But don't you see I can't ? Don't you?
I'm shouting now, screaming,
But how am I supposed to tell you that?
With capitalization? A polite exclamation mark?
No!
It's like a silent movie
With an experimental soundtrack.
Yet if I write nothing, you will think
All is well. So I must go on, it's better to be
Misunderstood than ignored (or is it?)
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC