Welcome to the world of Lina ramona Vitkauskas’ poetic brain. Featured here is the winning poem for the inaugural poetry competition of Ping-Pong, journal of literature and arts published by the Henry Miller Memorial Library. The challenge here is to write an imitation of this beautiful piece. And thank-you Lina for playing along!
We Can Be Heroes
You are the rodent,
an open window.
A man is but a product of his thoughts.
Be regulated but not homogenized.
You know the tightrope trick.
Everyone plays it like Slinky or derivatives.
Stretched out—but you cannot see
you.
The lindens hear conversations.
You won’t kneel before all of us,
won’t pay attention,
won’t mouth the
and what do you do with the poetry?
You know the drill:
we see Philadelphia,
eek our tools out—all primitive and culturally
significant; here—you can fall down
the slope
aching from porking
it’s a delicious stew,
what we claim to be
conversation.
I say
we nuzzle down
into Mother dirt
and plan our breaking.
My philosophy is poking you.
If you desire ease, forsake learning,
and if you desire cheese,
welcome to this planet.
Wonder if we could be
all of us,
we could speak our own
langostino.
You throw the javelin
and women,
you spear the
crayfish.
Speak to me in mollusk,
we know the new
slang-uage,
we know new Freuds,
we know you have paid
for your tickets to see the giant
teletype, grifters among
the space junk and
invisible planes.
Lina ramona Vitkauskas is the author of SPINY RETINAS (Mutable Sound, 2014); Professional Poetry (White Hole Press, 2013); A Neon Tryst (Shearsman Books, 2013); HONEY IS A SHE (Plastique Press, 2012); THE RANGE OF YOUR AMAZING NOTHING (Ravenna Press, 2010); Failed Star Spawns Planet/ Star (dancing girl press, 2006); and Shooting Dead Films with Poets (Fractal Edge Press, 2004).
Amy Davis asked me to send you Armenian poems
yes! please send me some!
Made From Stars
A clear night sky,
Covered by city lights.
Hidden in the neurons of a past man’s mind.
Oak trees soar but without limit.
Listening to the pack howl.
A game of Life the salmon plays.
Cracks: lines against the soil.
Eagle brother, predator, or friend.
Speaking tongues.
Distances too far for a glassed eye to see,
Unfamiliar embracing bodies,
True colors of a clam’s secret.
Listen to her beauty,
Palm to her warmth,
Inhale her nectar,
Become aware of her majesty,
Then crush her to dust.
Smoking steel,
Enslave her people,
Carve out your image
Across her sands.
Drink till she is shriveled
Last breath of desperation.
Bring forth war,
Fill the cannons with power.
Blast us back,
Send my spirit home.
Take me there.
Turn me into dust from which I came.
Will you do as you wish?
Hancock the line.
Point blame and push us aside.
Bear cubs sleep amongst trees tonight
Watching heaven’s bodies.
Outside the city lights.
The invocation of nature here is beautifully executed, imitating cycles and interconnectedness of all life (on earth and the universe). We go from tress and deep sky stars to neurons in past man’s brain to the salmon’s knowledge of the trials of life (swimming upstream) to eagles, clams, and bear cubs. All very organic and alive!
They whisper
the path through the wilderness
The Child in my heart can hear them.
I walk with timidity
amongst the Ogres and Trolls
I am disguised by Their magic.
They hear the Warning
in the Aspen forest.
I obey them
Knowing
my deliverance
Will I awaken from this?
Reality confounds me
It is a bur in the darkness
Thunder announces
the Giant’s approach
I look to a Starless Sky.
Do we follow Friend or Foe?
The Trees mask
their utterances.
My mind whirls
in flashes of red and black.
I fall into obscurity.
This piece has a great mystical feel. Enchanted forest imagery, magical creatures!
Lina,
Thank you, your comments as an award winning poet are very encouraging to one who is just learning to explore poetry.
I excited was very when I read it.
K. Green
You’re welcome! Keep writing!
We are set free
To roam a land filled with explosives
Walk with self pride
But do not eat the food
Teach our children
But stay deaf
Open your eyes
To see only what I tell you
Drink from abundance
But be willing to pay
Knowledge is free
For a cost
You are set free
To become my slave
And I will always love you
Until I am done.
You convey an ominous feel/tone very well here. I sense inspiration from an apocalyptic place! Juxtaposed: roam a land (only to find them full of explosives); free (only to become a slave). Good stuff here.
Thank you so much! I do love writing in apocalyptic themes. I really appreciate your feed back.
As we lift the dirt
It is as if we lift the skirt of
Earth
She feels disrespected almost molested
Without an ounce of guilt
We look upon her to survive
Yet I do not dive in her pain
To gain a sense of her strain
We do not respect our air
I do not respect or care
We do not respect our dirt
I do not respect or care
She cries and yearns and dies in fever
But we just leave her
The personification of Earth mother here works well–she is naked, molested, disrespected and the reader empathizes. Great image of lifting dirt like a skirt.
Wow, thank you Lina!
You’re welcome!
The flashing lights,
burning brighter than the sun
I feel like no other,
the winds constantly change direction
Whispers I do not recognize,
Voices I can’t recall,
Faces white as snow,
souls pure at heart.
2am. the sun hasn’t risen yet,
the weight of the world,
embrace the future.
Tell him he is all mine,
I’d wait my turn forever,
Blurry lights I see,
Gliding home in a dream,
I fly way up high,
you can’t see me in the sky but,
I’m coming home.
Do I confuse you? My revelation does not
blend well it is lost.The neon pink message
all-blinding.
Impoverished brains cannot
Wrap around: This holy shrine made of pearls and more pink stuff,
but
no wisdom to be found. All perception
skewed to the tune of chattering mice; here
is your hiding place
and the all-knowing.
Flinching back, trying to see
You twist and twist,
twirling ——— trying to
catch a fleeting glimpse.
Maybe if I S-T-R-E-T-C-H you out…..
No, you’ll hurt me once you’re shown.
A series of coupled limbs—— useless to anyone
try to catch them as they fly by
over
under invisible.
A nation within a Skinner box
Familiar with the attire
We must bare our skin before a uniform
is molded to our unoriginal curve
Neighbors speaking like neighbors
Friends dressing like friends
Imitation of the expected
Our reflection disappears
We want it back
The Higher Power is within the wind
hidden, quiet, ruffling leaves
Revolt is howling like wolves
Diminishing in the distance
What will we do?
The wind becomes deafening
Branches angry at window panes
We breathe upon foggy glass
and write our message
with bare hands
Weary from exhaustion
Anticipation of terror creeping in the dark
But the truth that lies within the fog
is worth sleeping endless nights
Demand for change
They say better peace comes with closed mouths
and structured minds
Rats are only rewarded
when they continue to obey
Sickened by the same four walls
unite together we must
Revert back to the calm before the storm
Create a world within our own
Raw
Electricity turns black
Rodents in a Skinner Box
Refusal to eat their snacks
It is human
to — find — patterns
in points
the swordsman in the sky
whose belt is l o n g e r
than a million earths
and the leaves at the
bottom of your tea cup
forming a seagull
while we study these ambiguities
we still know
that
orion may guide us to
castor — pollux
and the seagull
symbolizes an approaching
shoreline
after
months —————
lost at sea
Nothing
We forget ourselves
Desert our faith,
We take a breath
And come out with nothing
No matter what we do
We become a copy
An unseen leash by man
Until the invisible link is broken
A luxury for others, but not for all
They try to help but no one listens
All there work comes out to nothing
In the end their reward is a black hole.
There isn’t anything I can say to you that I haven’t said before
You push and I pull, there will never be a balance
The anger, fear, loathing and hurt
I’m at my end and you just laugh
You must like this, watching me lose myself
I used to be different, and then everything changed
You stepped onto, not into, my life
And no matter what I do, I just don’t stand like I used to
You have seen me compromise my morals and come crashing down
I used to know my purpose, or at least have an idea
But now I’m running in every direction except towards myself
I don’t blame you, but then at the same time I can’t help it
My personal devil, and well, the devil’s habits rub off
There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t felt regret since meeting you
But I wouldn’t change one thing
Slipping and sliding,
losing
and birthing…
A potential devil,
me.
No,
potential does not apply here anymore,
I am the devil.
Death is the greatest fear of all man
for he could be lurking anywhere
You may seem him in every shadow
and you may seem him in every person you see on the street
To fear Death is to be Human
but to be Human is to Live
Life is too short to fear Death constantly
Those shadows you see is merely the absence of light
the light you wield to confront it
Those strangers you fear will always be strangers
unless you build the courage to befriend them
for they too may also fear and see Death in you
Death will come to us all soon in the Future
but we are alive now in the present
be adventurous
meet new people
Live your life fearless of Death
The burn of the ice
in my heart full of coal
It is heavy,
dark,
smothering.
It is my safe haven
No need for explanation
It’s comforting, it’s warm,
it’s mine not yours.
Dream about holding it,
Expect to get burned,
for it is ice cold
and my heart will
scorch you.
It will hyperventilate you
until the vapors of the ice
begin to invade your lungs
until you can no longer inhale
and you will exhale your last cold breath
We are road kill
A tires Picasso
Love is nothing but gathered particles
Be whole But not misanthropic
Like commensalism or social media
Living off–but never giving
Much
The grape vine moves
Never spill your heart out,
It’ll use you,
Tell you lies
And for less than a penny!
Pull up you sleeves:
The sweat of Palm trees
Weighs less-nonchalant and narcissistic
Caring nothing; go–down to the beach
The sands
Burning from gossip
Their foaming mouths
Crashing up against
Your shore.
Wait here
Fill your bucket
With crab legs
And break their shells.
Anger swims into you
You cannot here, or let it go.
Enjoy this torture,
Marvel in its simplicity.
All ears
Will listen to your
Screams.
Shake your head
Your hair,
Is needle thin
Crabs
Scuttle around legless,
You know the row
Gossip hoar.
You know the slurry
You know how to left hook
And hit it in the lip
Swelling, to stop the speak
What the cuss, blood
Broken nails.
I didn’t understand the assignment but here it is
Reaching success cannot
Be reached without becoming a mess.
Get up they say as they
push you down
into the ground.
We are all haunted
by something we cannot define.
For we are racing and pacing against this unstoppable force.
We’re driving and striving
with equal amounts of force.
They know how to swing theropes
as we’re barely going over the slopes.
We have heart and its something they can’t
take and keep away.
It’s something we have
to keep fighting and biting for.
No one is going to tell us
to keep going but our own will
to go on.
If we’re willing to talk it
then we have to walk it.
Heart of the Sea
The heat of the sun,
Not too hot; yet not too cold
Tiny grains of sand burying my feet
Planting my roots to the shore
Last summer was one thing I refused to recollect;
The last summer you were here
Flashes from the past attack my mind
Tales of people who lived in the sea without holding their breath were always the most prominent
People who didn’t have legs but tails like dolphins
Able to swim the vast ocean carelessly
Harmonious tunes of the sea that can be heard from the shore
They sang along with the whales
A celebration of the sea’s beauty and life
These people were created by Poseidon and protected by King Neptune
They came to dance near the shore
To prove life in the sea could be better than land;
To prove living in the sea was not a life style but being one with it
And as I watch them dance and sing
I swear I caught a glimpse of you there with them, fins and all
Telling me you’re now free
You make me complete,
just a tiny prick.
My veins disappear when I need them most.
My addiction and they don’t understand.
Black gooey salvation
My arms show the traces of your unworldly relief.
Nod out—let it take over
me.
My body is only a vessel
I have no respect for myself,
I do what’s needed,
just to feel
I can’t live without my dark medicine!
I know the risks
I have seen an overdose,
it’s a game of chance—my rescue is also what kills me
repulsive: life—but we all die
someday
bleeding for pleasure
I go by many names,
forget who I was
delusion
I cry
because I don’t
want to continue
to depend on you.
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Continue the good work!