ITEMS (5)
johntheroman's profile 
AGE:
30
LOC: Hollywood, FL
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 03
LOC: Hollywood, FL
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 03
http://www.myspace.com/johntheroman
I am heavily influenced by Bukowski, Kafka and Hemingway. In that, I hate order, I hate college bought poetry lessons, I hate rich poets, I hate school taught writers. I probably hate you; but hate is such a strong word and I can never force myself to dwell on such a useless emotion.
My writing is chaos. My inspiration is anger and rage and lust and love and sarcasm and beauty and ugliness and joy and every emotion you can imagine. not just angst and darkness and sappy puppy love.
My love is lust and my birth is simply a great mistake.
For any who carry that pretentious air of some anal retentive rich, college taught poet who writes with a textbook and no emotion --- leave this…
Items
Version 2
5 Reviews
0 Comments
jackhammer jolts. cement cracks. pristine; near white, yet heavily fades gray. the aged sidewalk parts to my touch and reveals a treasure trove of rusted pipes. that sadistic sun stabs with rays of raw rancor my skin peels and lips crack, near bleeding. i close my eyes, turn my face up towards the whimsical winds. they smile down, blowing across my hot, sunburnt skin.
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
2 Reviews
0 Comments
a boxcar clangs past throngs of staring eyes faceless in the blur which opens upon clarity perceived by unclear minds and racing thoughts which spew poison from street corners and soap boxes and unlit stages that set the world to blaze with torches composed of ice. i do not understand their need to destroy and decimate the obvious; the lackluster command they seem to hold over masses of quite brain dead followers that assimilate to their words as if they were law written within a bible of pu...
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Version 1
0 Reviews
0 Comments
Star light, star bright first star I see tonight --- go fuck yourself.
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
6 Reviews
0 Comments
they call it a rock city day; the breaker bars can't chisel these boulders which protrude from this strongly sucking mud. Within a hole of fourteen feet a place unreachable by hammers and stretched, calloused hands it mocks us like a bratty child. Cursing the rain and heavy heat forearms wipe at resisting dirt, hands rub at stinging sugar sand trying to keep it from tired eyes. "Where's the damned fuckin' pipe?" our crew chief continues to curse as another tenth is chiseled away only revealin...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 2
4 Reviews
2 Comments
infuriating --- in a way which makes mind and eyes wander that angers me because i do not want it to be that way, in a life which tosses heavy concrete balls which are always seemingly colored blue. a frustration which self-satisfaction can not seem to ever squash --- and the one word resounding in my mentally mad mind: fuck!
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Reviews
There are some breaks in the rhythm here and there; but there is a good amount of emotion in this piece. The imagery is brilliant and I can completely understand where you are coming from. Altogether an excellent poem.
I liked this quite a bit. I'm not quite sure how it would or should flow though; because I could not distinguish any line breaks or stanzas. There were a couple spots where it was a little redundant; but the imagery was brilliant and clean.
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