Sunday, April 1, 2018

NAPOWRIMO

What's that? you ask. It's the poetry version of NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month. We're supposed to write a poem a day for the month of April - National Poetry Month. There is a website and everything. If you want to participate, go ahead, jump in. You'll swim, I promise.

The prompt for today is writing about a secret shame or secret pleasure. Well...if it's secret, I don't know if I want to divulge it. Plus I have so many!

Some of them involve parts of the body
that are not supposed to be touched or
delved into, at least not in public. I always
try to be discreet. But lately I find myself
forgetting that I'm out in the open or
(somehow-for some reason) not caring.
What happened to me? Where did my shame
go? my following societal constraints and
rules and restrictions? Did something
happen to my frontal lobe? You know,
that's the one where the rules and morays
grow and store. If you injure your frontal
lobe, you are apt to behaving bizarrely,
shamelessly, flouting norms and customs.
I think as you get older, the frontal lobe
just slows down, gets lazy, says "fuck
it, do whatever you feel like, who cares."
That's right. Who cares. Be yourself,
to hell with rules and society. Pick your nose,
fart, scratch your crotch, who cares.
If they give you pleasure, that's all that matters.

No comments:

Post a Comment