Falling out of the Tree House

I touched myself 4 times today,
And not once did I think of you.

But I thought; Hey
Maybe we’re having a falling out,
Or maybe I’m falling out,
Or maybe–there wasn’t even a tree house to begin with?
We grew up in a tree house where we held down
Frank’s sister and told her she had to kiss the cutest boy.
So you kissed Jake and I broke your Barbie’s head off.

If this is the sort of poem a guy has to write
Just to break up with you.
Than maybe you need to realize that
You’re not exactly worth the words he’s wasted on you
The dictionaries he’s gone through
Looking for the perfect synonym for love
That you shove back at him because he
Still isn’t the cutest boy in the tree house.

And we are falling out
Because I have a secret for you:
I never wrote poetry because I loved you
It was because I didn’t
And I wanted to prove to myself
That I wasn’t just using you for the blowjobs

But I was. And even then I wasn’t.
All you really did for me was
Make me feel like I didn’t need porn
Even though my collection grew 3 megs by
The time I wrote this.

But whatever. The important part
Is that slivers from poorly put together
Tree Houses still sting 12 years later.
And I’ll always be six years old.

They fairy tailed they were Pirates protecting you
from Frank because little boys can’t kiss little girls
But pirates protecting princesses could.

Or snow-forts and snot-nose winters
With cheek kisses and we melted the snow
Around us with the heat from our breath
Avoiding Minnesota death
And I couldn’t ever go down the hill head first.
Your snowballs always hurt worst.

Love is so ****ing simple at age 10,
When we could find a flower
Found in the grass as the symbol of us
And that’s all we needed to stay alive.

So many others our age
Still live like that and it’s sick.
I’m sick of living like that.
We are only together because
No one could drive yet
And loving you from down the street made sense.
We’d meet at the tree house to Make-out;
And the whole time I was still secretly a pirate.

Close distanced relationships don’t work;
They slave drive.
Trying to stay alive because the ups and downs
Of this hill hell town is founded upon
How long I’m grounded
And that’s no way to love someone;
Between classes.

We took timeouts together only to talk about
How better we were than to have listened to the rules
And rebellion is the lonely heart’s charity.

I only like music I can be smarter than.
And you were the only tune they played
On cold Minnesota days when MTV
Wasn’t playing music and
You’re obviously getting sick of the cold
Sick of falling out of the tree house
Sick of the bruises and the broken bones and the wood ticks
And the splinters and the sand in your shoes and
You use me. Use me until the snow melts away from the base beams.

Gas Prices shot up with our age, and wages
Down with our stages of perpetual innocence.
50 cents change and nothing stays the same.
3 miles outside of town and the sound of
Your song long and ghostlike on the one working speaker
Takes me back to everything and the gas pedal closes distance
Between me and the white noise of lost FM reception.

I like it, actually. I get a huge sense of nostalgia from it. You built a great mental picture for me. The continued usage of the treehouse kept it from flying off too far from where you started it, as well.

I enjoyed it.

... Regardless of it's meloncoly nature... Emo? I don't know.

Now make a level for her.

I wouldn't say it's emo... can't say how I'd describe it, though. I like it.

First two lines got a good out of me. A bit over the top, IMO.

Yeah a bit over the top for me too.

I stopped reading after the first couple lines. My mind and eyes are now burned because of Massassi.

I actually liked it well enough to read through it all. Pretty cool.

Your emphasis on a blunt portrayal of your relationship 'stuffs'... I don't like so much

The touching yourself, the blowjobs, y'know.

It just seems kinda like a shortcut to get a blunt feeling as opposed to developing it throughout the poem... But I guess it does its job.

It flows well!

The tone is coneyed quite well, too!

That's what poetry slams are about, blunt honest to god poetry that doesn't make things flowery. KISS is the primary idea of this sort of poetry. The fact that some of you stopped reading says I've done my job. Those of you that kept reading understand what I mean.

JediKirby

Religious Noir of Nathan Anderson and Other Likely Failures

Nate, stop making the film of your life
that no one will ever see.
Do you think it’s God who spends his afternoons
watching your primetime, made-for-TV-movie?
Your tape will not fade because Caroline rewinds
And replays the same scene 4 times so that
She can finally cry about you.
No, instead it will lose color and quality from disuse.
So stop it Nate. You keep looking for a ****ing muse.

There is no piety paid to the people watching this;
Because Nathan, they don’t exist. Go ahead and **** Felicia!
Stop living a false sense of innocence where casual sex
Makes you a killer.

You cannot re-shoot this scene and you ****ed up on all the first times.
But that’s just it: no one’s watching! We can **** up sometimes.
And we do.
We all **** it up and call it fate.
So shut up and deal, Nate.

And it'll be the man who you've become
That'll be cast as the role of Nathan Anderson.
And Nate, that character doesn't go to Heaven.
He goes to the storage room of blockbuster.
Despite all his cross-bearing and love sharing,
He sacrifices his holy birthright to be on the big screen.
For his piety to be seen.
For the out-loud asking forgiveness scene.

It’ll be you, Nate. You’ll keep the cross next to Oscar and Emmy
In the shelves of forgotten archives.
Thousands of failed lives,
All lined up like a camera angle shooting range.
And you, all high off of fumes from the 54th page
Of your own screenplay
And you both crumble to dust and lay
Remnants of a greater day
And still no pay for a lifelong following
Of church-bells for your set of new wings.

You cannot get your set of morals from the back of a book.
We’re driving slow; not because speed limits and seatbelts save lives
But because we could do life.

Does Jesus love you simply because you think
You’re the main character
In some ****ed up screenplay about morals?
You are far from that special to anyone
But us.
The others that don’t mean **** in the eyes of
Any creator.

Your funeral, like all others, will be the
Credits of even the greatest movies.
No one will see them, or care.
And I am just another random name in the
Cast that you put last on the list of appearances.

But no one ever gets a Golden Globe for
Being themselves, do they Nate?

I'm sorry, but I just don't like the use of terms that are generally considered "shocking" and "blunt" as a means to sort of throw the poem in the face of your readers, and be like "take that *****es, can you handle it?".

:p

I did read the entire thing.

But that's NOT what it's about. I read that poem in front of a poetry slam people, and they laugh, hoot, and holler. It's all about audience, and not exactly about shock value. I wouldn't read the poem to a room full of old people. That'd be for a reaction. The idea is that I'm angry, I swear. If the truth is that I was using her for the BJs... well, I was. I don't know, it's no thing to me, but other people who aren't used to it think it's for show. Were it for show, I'd have said things like "Yo yo yo my dawgs, u b dah hizzo!" or whatever. THAT'S for show. Cussing and telling the truth, however offensive it may be, is far less 'showoffish.'

JediKirby

i like your style. but few care about how much you like to not show off. your meaning is for yourself. if you have to explain it, they don't need to understand.

Why the **** do poems need to be showcased. Go to a poetry forum.

That was uncalled for...

yeah.. a_person, this forum is for anything. WTF dude..

I like it. I certainly wouldn't use such, "blunt" I guess is how you guys put it, language in my poetry just because I don't think like that in the first place. That isn't the point though. Poetry isn't about being politicaly correct either. People always judge poetry like it's supposed to have some single universal meaning and try and figure out what the author means. You can't just read a poem and call it stupid just because you can't find an interpretation that you think is valid or meaningful. Most people write poetry from their inner feelings and it is rather rude to slam them on it because it's how they feel. I think the first poem is really good. It's sorta depressing but I think it's quite meaningful.

I am I the only one here who would find it even a little bit funny if somebody wrote a poetry slam against poetry slammers?

Sorry it's late. And I dig your poems, sir. Seems like it should be read in a room full of beatniks... Or something. The conveying of emotions/thoughts through poetry = right on. Forget format and "the right way to do it."


On a different chord, letting out anger through writing (or other artistic venues for that matter) is a healthy thing to do.

I liked that first one. I really dislike doing anything with poetry other than reading it, so that's all I'm going to say, but I did like it.

(The second one seemed a bit gratuitous though. I don't know)

Haha, I've written an anti-slam poem before, as the slam atmosphere can get pretty political [as in, between slammers, not as in left and right wing].

I'm going to record these poems and post them and see if you guys get anymore out of that. As well, I'm slamming TONIGHT and I won last month, so I'm hoping to live up to my own legacy this month.

JediKirby

SLAM DUNK

This is a showcase forum. Any works of art can be showcased here. If you do not like the work of art, criticize with respect or simply hold your tongue. This will not be tolerated.

Like the final versions.

Why the **** do gun models need to be showcased. Go to a modelling forum.

(Not really, but I hope you get my point.)

I printed the poem out 2 days ago and Ive read it about 7 times each day. I dont know what it is about it but I can't stop reading it. It's just got a good sense of something to it. I can't describe it but i like it.

That's an honor! Thanks :-P

I just wanted to say that the tree-house poem was one of the very few poems that have been showcased here in the last couple years where I bothered to read it till the end. I think that says enough.

Thats the best way to get make an ex a BIGGER ex...

Wow I wish I put this much trouble into some of my ex's

You? Girlfriends? Phh... I'm not being fooled like these clowns!