Glamour

was out for a drive
with a friend girl
K.L.
menthol cigarette’s
tattoos, boots, pseudo-goth
loud car, loud music
she was a wiccan, I think,
though perhaps not
in a practical sense
she dabbled, or was curious
of that much I’m certain
as she listened
with some interest to my
cosmic delineations on
the universe,
the supernatural,
or extranatural, as I call it,
personal/extrapersonal
natural/extranatural i.e.
the awareness of self in search
for unanswered questions,
my theorem dispensed wholesale
from one conscious mind, etc.
as that is, however, she shopped
for her arcane tools at those
spiritual New Age
fantasy boutiques
ridiculous, in my opinion,
a waste
their hand in wallet relationship
with their baffled inquisitive
patrons seems like robbery
for they offer books of rituals
and the necessary oddments
to accompany them, if
you have the money
they will sell you magic
but, none of that is real
in an actual sense

though, whatever
there we were
she parked her Mustang
in front and asked “are you
staying in the car? I need
to stop in here.”
I said yes to waiting in the car
and asked, for what?
Obsidian arrow heads.” she replied.
Why? I returned, “do you need
to slay a dragon?”

we toyed with each other
but it seems to me, now,
that she thought herself wise
being seen about with a
wizard.

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.

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3 thoughts on “Glamour

  1. hey. ideajunkyard here. I wrote a haiku on my blog inspired by your work. iIt would be cool if you could feature it. Any tips for a budding poet would be welcome. Thank You.

    PS- your poetic style is fabulous!!1

    Liked by 1 person

    1. When I started writing poetry, or rather, when I was serious about writing I decided to shut myself off from the world. No media, no television, no radio etc. I was concerned (at that time, and still am) about exterior influences subliminally affecting my creative process. Music, for example, has a profound effect on a developing psyche. I can still recall, with great clarity, family trips to the beach listening to the all Oldies station in my fathers pickup. The ideas I had at that time about romance were linked intrinsically to the music I was influenced by. This is true even with regards, or especially with regards to adult notions of individuality etc. So, I would advise shutting out the worlds entropy, and developing the inner mind, as it were. Cultivate paranoias, even the bizarre, and write with extreme honesty. The trick, if there is a trick to writing, or at least the method that works for me, is to focus on the immediate now. “Time of composition is the structure of the poem. What is going on in the mind during that moment is the subject.” That’s an Alan Ginsberg quote, it’s relevant. But really, just be in complete love with your muse, whatever your muse is at that moment, and don’t forget the irony of dualities. For example, everything exists because it has an opposite. Intellect, as an example, can only be of any value because of ignorance. Finally, read, read, read. All poetry, even bad amateur poetry has its values. Oh, and never write for an audience, either imagined or actual. If you write to be read you will unconsciously generalize your themes in order to be appreciated. You are never above, or beyond your muse, only under it, peering through as it’s held to the light.
      I have a fondness for breaking known perceptions with logic. To tear the mask from an idea and replace it with something more broken. Nothing, no subject I mean, is taboo.
      if you’re interested, I read
      Alan Ginsberg
      Charles Bukowski
      P.K. Page
      W.B. Yeats
      John Donne
      E.A. Poe
      E.E. Cummings
      Charles Baudelaire
      to name a few. I tend to avoid the melancholy depression typically akin to poetic writing. Write because you love writing, not because you have something to say.
      Thank you.

      apologies for the litany response.

      Like

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