THROBBING a short poem by ThePrintuplist
Poem and Photo by ThePrintuplist
ENJOY
THROBBING
Black masked taped,
leather loose chains.
Press play
" He dragged her down to the ground..."
rewind
"...dnuorg eht ot nwod reh deggard eh"
Damn that film for god sake.
Its just a room,
a room with no space,
a room just for sitting
" he was sitting on her face..."
"Fashion police, who invited her!"
"She isn't welcomed..."
" is that fur?"
Im tired of listening, of watching, of reading
these films one
after one
and one there seems to be no reason.
What media is this, ones that we see
pressing play, a minaj of sorts,
you plus them that makes three.
And so if Celluloid burns,
the forest we'll flee.
Ill be servant, you're master,
just watch
and you'll see.
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I remember that as I was writing a poem on 'Snow' when I was eight, I said aloud, 'I wish I could have the ability to write down the feelings I have now when I am little, because when I grow up, I will know how to write, but I will have forgotten what being little feels like.'
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The poem is the literary form of the 21st century. It's able to connect young people in a deep way to language... it's language as play.