Dear Allen Ginsberg...

Hey, all!

Happy Wed. to everyone! It's hump day, the week has began, but yet coming to an end. Fast? Different for all of us.

This next piece is a Random Experience I wanted to share. An assignment again for my Intermediate Creative Writing Class. We had to write to a writer about their work. I have done an assignment like this before, and I wrote to Jamaica Kincaid---since I will be meeting her in 2013, maybe I could give her my letter. What do you think? Let me know?

This letter is to Allen Ginsberg for his "America" piece. This was my favorite poem during my Freshman year of college, as I did not understand it at first, but once it was discussed within the class, I enjoyed it so much. Now, writing him a letter of critique, these are my simple random thoughts, as these are what my Instructor asked me. Some of you may agree on my thoughts, some of you may not. Just leave the love, positive or negative, give it to me! Please let me know what you think!

Dear Allen Ginsberg,

            “America” is an exciting and personable story. You allow us to see America in an array of customs that allows us as the reader think upon many thoughts. Although “America” is exciting, there are ideas that allow us to question if you really felt hatred towards America, or there was so much love you began to result in anger thoughts. You take us on a guide of anger, yet love at the same time, giving us a chance to understand America’s actions towards you and what people around you two think of her. With your opening stanzas, you are speaking to America as a woman, and almost a whore or slut that owes you something. “America I’ve given you all and now I have nothing” is your opening line, which starts the reader off with thoughts of anger between you two. You then go on to say “America two dollars and twenty-seven cents Jan. 17, 1956”. Did you compensate America for a task or sexual activity? It seems as you’re mad at America, but want her in your life at the same time. “Go fuck yourself your atom bomb”, you stated, telling America to leave you alone and perform lonely activity. Why was there such anger that came about between you two? Were there more details you could have provided to specifically tell us what took place?

            Moving on, as you continue to express your angry love, you asked America “when will you send your eggs to India”? Do you think it is America’s responsibility to provide a birth cycle for another country? As you continue, there are positive emotions through America’s history. As she allows “Time Magazine” take control of our emotional life, you compliment America’s skill to assist you in learning more about life’s ideals; such as responsibility, the seriousness of businessmen, movie producers, and as you stated, everyone around you, except you. Do you think if you continued to read “Time Magazine”, you would have actually understood the importance of seriousness?

            As you begin to thank America and state what you would like to do for her, you state yourself as actually being America. Is this a compliment to yourself, or anger towards your lifestyle? It would be easier for us to understand if you explicated more what exactly caused such anger love between America and yourself. As you begin to end your thoughts, you state” I’d better get right down to the job” continuing to turn America’s responsibility to your own. As your thoughts can handle an array of areas, I am sure you can handle the tasks America is responsible for. However, do not put too much on your shoulders; America still needs your support, money, and future political and sexual action. Continue to be the Alpha male, it will assist us better!

 

 

Leave the love!

Until Next Time
XXOXOXOXOX,
Nye.

Love? That DOES NOT SUCK?

Hello World!

Hope everyone is enjoying their new comings of the Fall Season, leaving the Summer of 2012. If it's work, or school, I'm sending much blessings and if it's bothering you, just keep on smiling.

I am here, and I miss placing my writings. Here is a Random piece I created a part of an assignment for my Intermediate Creative Writing Class. I really do enjoy this class, by the way; great minds, my instructor is very free, open-minded, and strict at the very same time. I enjoy it.

This was a part of our 2nd Assignment, and his instructions were to write a story or 2 poems about Love, "THAT DOES NOT SUCK".

--Yes, those were his exact words, and believe it or not, most of the class nominated this assignment was actually difficult. Come on, we love Love. We also hate love, so who would think it would be difficult to write about it? But only because we did not want to give him what he did not want. I agreed with my classmates with the assignment being difficult, but I also found it entertaining, and it allowed my thoughts to flow in an array of ways.

First, I wanted to create a story, but I thought that would be too mushy.

Then, I wanted to write about my personal love life, but that's definitely too mushy.

Then I wanted to write about Vincent Van Gogh's piece "Starry Night", but that was too gloomy; why did I think of that?

So, I did not think I would create two poems, but that is exactly what I did. Below is the first poem I explicated my thoughts of Love in a way that does not suck to me. I wanted to explicate teh meaning of it also, without actually using the word "Love", as well. Let's see what my instructor thought of it.

I just turned the assignment in, so I do not know what my instructor will say, but I am putting it here so you guys can leave me some random thoughts, or even share your Love experiences. Leave anything you'd like! Let me know what you think!



"Thoughts of Love without using the word 'Love'"

Why is the feeling so damn strong?
So blind that one allows the feelings to overcome the past, present and future.
So hard the grudges that it entails is so much different than any other emotion.
As the feelings aid to the disguises of happiness, the masks of hurt, the dirt that passes through the tears through a blink of an eye.
That damn feeling.
So damn strong.
A piece of shit that not even a super laxative could dissolve.
Thoughts that are explicated through hate, reproduction, suction, and valleys that no one else could assist on fixing.
The questions that always emerge:
What the hell is next?
Why me?
Why now?
These are the questions that just take on the pain, and even the happiness.
That damn feeling that no one but you fix.
May not be able to handle them at the exact moment, but later on you'll be able to realize the toughest thing;
Life goes on.



Please! Leave the love.

Love you all!
Xoxoxoxoxo,
Nye.