NaPoWriMo, Day #16

It's twisted and bubbling, bloating and siezed

In need of liquid plumber that specializes on the colon

That's gentle and effect

Willing to making shit his bread and butter

NaPoWriMo, Day #15

This is an idea, I've kicked around. Poem is super rough . . .

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I want to be in a high school relationship

The kind that my friends think ends at 3 PM

The one that keeps our parents up

Mom will never think you're good enough

Your dad thinks I'm bad news

Make out sessions and rounding second base

Our phone conversations are those long pauses

that is left by the sound of our breathing

Sneaking out on school nights, just to see you 

When I wasted all my texts spelling our names with hearts and adding forever to the end

Dumping me on Friday only to go back out on Monday

I'll wear button down shirts and too much cologne 

bra-less days made our lives so much easier

Jealousy will follow us out the halls

They'd talk more about us then we do talking about us

NaPoWriMo, Day #14

Wake up fresh but stale

Sick of using the same words

Playing around with similar ideas

Screen is still empty

Ink still has life

The page is still blank

NaPoWriMo Day #13

Another crappy poem for NaPoWriMo.I'm finding this whole practice getting stale and I'm not loving any of the poetry.A new poem each day is a lot for someone, who might write one or two poems a month.

It has kept my mind fresh during the day though. Maybe this good for something.

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It all starts with the page and the stage, the tools of our trade.
The most intimidating and friendly confines we know.
With angels watching over us
The devils whispering in our ears.
Blank lines like the faces back at us.
Can't leave the words hollow with a pressence and pressence without the writing.
Balancing the plates to the table is the approach and it must be delivered.

NaPoWriMo, Day #12, Dain Michael Down

Dear Dain Michael Down,

I hope this poem reaches you, by the wings of a Boeing, as it circles the Space Needle, for it's landing in the Emerald City.

Tell me about the new home,

A modern metropolis that still clings to it's Grunge

With the wind crying out, Mary, from the allies of a hundred coffee houses

You're not searching for Nirvana or hunting down the best cup of Joe.

You're looking for things that you haven't been able yet to describe

The verses that keep you awake in rainy evenings, that want to see light in clouded skies

Outside of the Slam, you dream of winning

Stomach growls ache hard as your hunger for more than just food, kills you slowly

When you eat that first meal in days, let it remind you of the hardships you swallowed and each bite tasted is small victories, to keep you going

You chase connection wherever you can catch

We don't care if you bought it, borrowed it or stole it

Please, write us poetry to tell us your alive 

-Mark SkryptD

NaPoWriMo, Day #11

Haiku

My piece of shit car

Needs too much work done to it

I miss the city

NaPoWriMo, Day #10, Stevie Ray Vaughn

Stevie Ray, the Pride and Joy, of the Lone Star State

You took museum worthy relics and asked them to danced the Texas shuffle

Your callused fingers caressed her sweet neck

Vibrating, sliding, bending and swooning

Making love to the "First Wife"

The tone of God, himself spoke through amplifers

And people followed that frequency like Moses through the desert

Hard living, womanizing and a gun slinger's mentality brought the blues out

Wrecking havoc with the Double Trouble, up and down the Gulf

Remember how you couldn't stand the weather

In a whirlwind over Wisconsin, the skies rained tears to the sound of the Texas Flood

Just like in western superstitions, your little wing protects the young in the crossfire

NaPoWriMo, Day #9, Kurt Cobain

Memorials are left by in utero children 

Many of them younger than your daughter

Still, too many of us want to block out the your memory on April 8th

We were the lost generation left in your wake

Trying to deny impact of the blast that made us drown in the chorus

Of mangled Jaguars and Mustangs forgotten in your drunk fury

We get off your old Lady Love's back

And admit that we, the public, murdered you

By the weight of unwanted popularity 

The pills of Billboard immortality were given to you by the millions

Taking them wreaked havoc on the soul that still walks with

Dirty Cons on streets with the Needle

Flying those heroin dreams, wrapped in flannel and served with Bleach

Burdening your desire 

NaPoWriMo, Day #8

They roam the halls like demi gods

In these walls they're invincible, yet powerless

Stubborn know-it-alls

Forced to learn

The routine is clockwork

Answering to only the bell

Then their world is disrupted

Is it me?

Teachers are inhuman in their eyes

I'm looked at differently

I look like them

This makes me grin

Though the advice I was given was to never smile

My hair is shaggy

I rock Nikes and a tie

The writing on the board is sloppy

Due to the lack of practice

They see my name

Curious to what the S, stands for

I leave it for their imagination

These young faces

Have no idea how terrified I am in their presence

NaPoWriMo, Day #7

Dear Young Poet,

People judge and I'm no different

Is the society you live in all that bad?

Your words are bleak and offer no hope

Don't have the answers, stop complaining

Is the other side that much better?

Problems are abound every where

Other kids see it just like you

If you pride individuality 

Please stand out

Take the risks

Forget there is an audience

I admire your drive

The output is epic

Nothing holds me

Prove me wrong

The world is you canvas

Step out and make us see it

Show me how your transparent verses will grow flesh

That you'll sacrifice rhythm for substance

The legacy is not in the finger snaps

But what is left behind

-Mark SkryptD

NaPoWriMo, Day #6

I haven't written poetry in about 6 months, and that's main reason, why I'm doing the NaPoWriMo. After being really active in the spoken word community and carrying a notepad everywhere for 2 years, I took a break. Shit, really wasn't going right in my everyday life and I became emotionally and mentally beat. I had no desire to write anything. Doing this challenge has made things fresh again but I'm still out of practice.

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Isolated monotony 

Fixed caffeinated routine

Stress related appetite

Emotional crowded thoughts

Becoming downright ugly

Falling short on a dream

That's what has become of me

NaPoWriMo, Day #5, Going Strong . . .

This poem comes from a journal,  I wrote in a notepad from 9/21/07. I remember, the day very well. I was fed up with my work situation, in Jersey City,  and I was sent home because business was slow. That evening, my loft mate (fellow poet, Dain Michael Down) and I went to a bar, in Downtown JC. It was pouring, we were soaked and to come in from the rain to a bar full of women, would of made my evening but I was feeling empty. I told Dain, I had to go to NYC. He looked surprised and told me to be careful. I knew my other loft mates  were partying in, "The City," and I wanted to see what they were up to.  They were pretty trashed and couldn't give me directions but they offered me a cab to meet up with them. I refused, I couldn't pay them back. My loft mates, Adal and Vivian, were really concerned, that I would do something stupid but I assured them that getting out was something I needed to do. I ended up roaming the streets to find what I was missing. It wasn't in a bar or club but at the corner East 20th and Ave C:

The great escape is taking the time to laugh at yourself

You don't need a destination to find happiness

Right now, I don't exactly have a lot of money but I'm finding peace here

Staring out, towards the water

Sitting on a bench at East 20th and Ave C

Observing the drunk girl standing out on the rocks

Watching crashes against the barge, in humid air

I look up at a starless sky

Through the light pollution

Finding what I didn't see on the other side of the river

That I belong in the city, that most of us try to lose ourselves in

Fitting in does not come from trying

The perfect shot is not impossible

You just don't have to aim

Your third eye is held by others who use it as a looking glass

They know more about you than you think

NaPoWriMo, Day #4, I'm going soft . . .

I want to get lost into someone and forget about everything else around me

The magnetic pull of the right positives and negatives

Forcing us to have an unexplained connection

That rushes sensations to places that we didn't know exist

Skipping beats between breaths

Stumbling trying to find the words to say

My verbal pauses aren't registering 

She is too caught up to even look for them

The small talk she chats is silent

Captivated by quivers and the way she puckers her lips to pull me back in

My reaction is to smile, to be the mirror to her movements

Our eyes do a better job telling our story

Glancing, seeing our glass is half full

The shutter to the left and a shared giggle

We fail to notice the place is closing up around us

NaPoWriMo, Day #3, Hating on Seth Rogen

Is anyone else finding it hard to write good poetry during NaPoWriMo?

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Dear Seth Rogen,

I'm hating on you because I'm jealous

You get with women out of your league and make too much money

How can you sleep at night knowing you played the same stoner in every movie?

The 40 Year old Virgin and Superbad are classics

I wish you just left it at that

I pray that someone ends your 15 min of fame

Because it's been going on for 15 months too long

You are over weight and over exposed

They gotta stop selling you as a leading man, when you are a side kick

I wasn't talking about your acting but your writing

When will people see that your a Kevin Smith rip off?

Even Silent Bob has lost his appeal over time

You are famous because people are idiots

So light one up funny man

Your appearance on the cover of Playboy means you've gone to far and no one wants to see you naked

Thank you, -Mark

NaPoWriMo, Day #2

If you didn't know today is Autism Awareness Day. This is just a little bit is for my brother Andrew:

Fear and panic might be driven out in others 

And we know you're just as scared

Love is difficult for someone in your condition but there is warmth

I was told that you'd never experience happiness

And your smile disproved that theory 

Empathy may never be in your vocabulary but understanding is in mine

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The first one is from a series of poems, I want to work on about customers, I've had in the service industry. This first one is going to be 1 of 2:

Dick, Part #1

I see you rushing into my direction

Slinking into the corner

Borrowing through your pockets till you find something familiar

We all know you are cheap

Must of been paying for the same refill for the last three years

As you push pennies for my thoughts with that cane

God forbid, the real you touches the surface

Ordering it extra hot

I'm surprised the coffee doesn't burn out your amphibious soul

Your arthritic fingers clasp onto the caffeinated fix

As the heat melts away your winter's chill from your tongue 

A weathered faced murmuring, "thank you"

As you walk out with my sanity 

NaPoWriMo, Day #1

Today, starts off National Poetry Writing Month or NaPoWriMo. In 2009, I haven't really written any poetry or performed. I have been spending so much time working and trying to get my website off the ground (I'll probably have something up for you guys to see this week). So this is my time to play catch up, play with old ideas and just got nuts.

I'm going to start off slow with haikus. I have a tendency to write haikus in bunches when I do.

I can't wait for baseball season to start already! So here some about baseball: 

#1

Lost a step at short

The captain, Derek Jeter

Still owns this city

#2

Tight game ninth inning

The Sandman puts them to rest

Oh the Yankees win!

#3

You can hate A-Rod

When he beats you in the clutch

A Yankee fan's dream

#4

Pitcher, Curt Schilling

Hall of Famer, you are not

You'll blog your way in

March Madness:

#1

My bracket is fucked

Can't pick the right teams again

There's always next year

#2

Final Four match ups

Sounded too easy to predict

I picked none of them

#3

How many of you?

Picked UNC or UConn 

To win the whole thing

NBA

#1

Suffering Knick fans

Sees the team score tons of points

With the same results

I should go to bed for work in the morning:

#1

The substitute teach

Can really have it easy

When children behave

#2

Roll with the punches 

Hard times don't last forever

This all ends today

Gnight people!

-MS

 

I Can't Believe I'm Blogging

Hello world! I am Mark Skrzypczak and through this Blog you will probably learn a little too much about me. A friend of mine told me I should start Blogging. Being a writer, it would only seem natural that I would be Blogging?  I am not much of a fan of the idea but I cannot for the life of me figure out why I resisted. Maybe, it's my educational background (journalism) or the love of word play (poetry) that wrestle with the idea of resisting Blogging. Maybe this take isn't original for this necessary evil but here it goes . . .

First off, I can't stand the term Blog. It's an ugly word, sounds like a taking a crap instead of technological media. Everyone craps so why not Blog!? It seems equally as contagious.

I turn on the television news and every time politics is mentioned it's followed by Blog or Bloggers; (I told you the word is contagious). People with an axes to grind find a way to weasel their way onto the news by blasting their opinion. I have to admit, sometimes this media has a voice that needs to be listened to but for the most part it's fanatics that makes it outrageous. We live an age where media is incredibly biased resorting to drive by journalism and we have to watch multiple outlets to piece the actual news together. Political Bloggers just seem to pollute it even more forcing us to filter out even more garbage to get to the substance. Then again people don't like to filter anything. Probably explains why so many people watch FOX News and are terrified of everything.

I read a column the other day, by Mark DiIonno, in the Newark Starledger about Blogs; I couldn't agree with him more. He opened the article about how one of his readers got his newspaper column mixed up with a Blog. Column writing is becoming a lost art in this age. Anyways, he then mentions about how people are constantly wired talking about their boring lives. I think the lack of creativity is what turns me off from personal Blogs. I don't need to know shopping lists and daily routines posted in repeat. Sometimes that monotony is why I write poetry. Life is poetry. I want to give flesh to things that are simple and simplify things that are complex. The challenge to find the write words to express is way more interesting than anything I could read in any Blog.

Alright, enough with this rant hating on Blogging. It's bad enough that I am doing this! I might force myself to enjoy Blogging, like it's an acquired taste. Journaling was a challenge for me but the entries did get better over time. I'm on here so you can revel in my genius or laugh at my stupidity!