16 Comments

I Find Myself Listening to Poetry.


I find myself listening to poetry and feeling my heart ache from the beauty of it all. I sit at my computer and I listen to my favorite, Carlos Andrés Gómez (yeah, I want you to remember all three, yeah I want you to say them like me, and yeah, I want you to remember both fucking accent marks), and my heart aches for him and the people he speaks about, or I’ll listen to Zora Howard and connect to her better than I have to almost anybody, and it hurts my heart and gives me this sense of melancholy and this desire to change the word.

I could do a big long post about it, but I won’t. Instead I’ll just say thank you Sarah Beth for linking me to some, and everybody who hasn’t listened to any spoken word ever needs to, and I’ll post a couple of my favorites at the end for you.

In other news, I won NaNoWriMo last night with a grand total of 50070 words even. It was a stretch and I may have inserted quite a few crappy and long dream scenes but I did it, even though I didn’t think I would. So congrats to me. ALSO CONGRATS TO EVERYONE ELSE WHO WON OR ATTEMPTED. You guys are all my heroes. You’re lovely.

I’ve got a year in writing to plan (I’ll post my game plan when it’s done), so I’d better be off. But here are some spoken word videos for you to watch in my absence.

(Oh. Warning: They may or may not use ‘foul language’. Just so you know.)

That’s Carlos. He’s my hero.

That’s Zora Howard. She’s also my hero.

Anyway, I love you. Kay. Bye.

~Feebs

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16 comments on “I Find Myself Listening to Poetry.

  1. I watched Carlos Andrés Gómez, and I found him quite confusing and… whenever he takes a breath I get knocked out of the poem. I can’t quite understand what he’s saying at times either.

    I do like Zora Howard though.

  2. Oh, because I probably should comment on the actual post: Carlos is a fucking genius. That video was amazing.

  3. […] of art work I can’t tack up on my wall). She has a lovely post about some of her favorites here. For those who haven’t ever found themselves listening to spoken word poetry, eyes glued to […]

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