Rambling Poesy From England: My Unabashed Sutures

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This is the first post of something that I would like to think could be a good idea. I tend to dump random bits of poems or creative fragments all over the interwebz, littering consciousness in superfluous pixels here and there… from time to time. Not only do I think it beneficial to consolidate all of the detritus in one locale, I think that creating such a place may assist me with writing [creatively-esque] more regularly.

Hello. So here I am, transplanted in Oxford. Absolutely wonderful Oxford. I am working diligently on a research project involving John Keats and the ways in which martyrdom and masochism are represented and explored in his work. In some ways I’m researching my own demons in addition to a fascinating and beautiful figure/ouvre. I alternate between passionate fits of intellect and transcendental reveries. All day. This was something that I wrote on my iPhone while I was walking back to my postgraduate flat.

Here lay my unabashed sutures
Laid finally to rest after the last rusty wheel’d compulsion
Cried it’s final creaking turn
Jumbled rot it will become
My retired mechanization
And I will go on living
Nearly wholly cleansed of that metallic aftertaste
Repeating on my tongue
Repealing tongue

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