Generation T(shirt)

How do I compete with you?

My head down; hair lacing a frosted door,

stumbling around a supermarket, pissed.

Bloodshot, angry, giggling all the same.


I need to feel again; sharp cinders in my lungs,

exasperate, fall back on the plastic floor,

pucker my lips to you in the florescence.

I need to explain.


But I digress; take my pasty limbs and words

to work, stare at a spider in a window frame,

become obsessed with it, and chew my pens,

until they burst on my chin.  Objectively -


I remain, and twirl gooey paints around the hairs

of pathos, flicking through magazines,

make romantic claims, fuck around, and

buy a projector; a million ways of being the same.


Collect, display -


It hits my teeth, reeling in and out,

twirling in the aisles. Cutting Edge...

Jesus Christ.


Don’t ever call me again.


◄ Hikikomori

Colourless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 13th Jan 2011 21:13

The pathos of your work is compelling. 'hair lacing a frosted door' is brilliant.

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Marianne Louise Daniels

Thu 13th Jan 2011 09:51

Thankyou for the comments folks, I am happy with what rachel and steve have got from it - think both sentiments are true.

erm, john, don't think i write just about dissolute alienation...i think i tend to hang around ideas of loss and nostalgia and memory alot because its beautiful, some times these feelings are stifling and sometimes liberating and we all experience this, and yeah sure I am quite melancholic but I like to think I stretch myself quite alot...I find beauty in many a place and personality in the inanimate too...ha! look at me, getting on my high horse (probably due to all that stretching), I'm not taking offence, thankyou for your comment and I am happy that you enjoyed!! ;-)

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winston plowes

Wed 12th Jan 2011 22:40

from the first 2 lines I am gripped. You go on to provide a pallette of words for the reader to paint his own picture. In this case however it is meaner / harsher and we are in a brutal conflicting space. Loved every word of it Marianne, Win X

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John Aikman

Wed 12th Jan 2011 18:20

Neat, in a dishevelled way. You definitely have a 'voice' and a great way with words. It would be lovely to see you try something that wasn't about dissolute alienation. Your verse...

'But I digress; take my pasty limbs and words
to work, stare at a spider in a window frame,
become obsessed with it, and chew my pens,
until they burst on my chin. Objectively'

sums up your oeuvre beautifully.

Stretch yourself!



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Wed 12th Jan 2011 18:02

Great poem - that last line really nails it down !
(that's TWO on W.O.L. I've complimented in one day !!)

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Rachel Bond

Wed 12th Jan 2011 16:06

reminds me of drunken numbness flailing around supermarkets buying more booze in that florescent light that highlights all the smudges of drinks debris, panda eyes and baboon ringed red lips and red wine. minging in anger.
i like the way the pen spills all over the chin clumsy and reminds me of another poem on here about red ink spills that stain...
i think we all like to think we are different but really its an arrogance as all people are the same, we're made of the same stuff and our experiences are all in common its a privaledge of our time to consider ourselves unique.
we're all arrogant and selfish but some of us write good poetry, and this is a good one :)

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Chris Dawson

Wed 12th Jan 2011 15:29

Love it.

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