Coworker Got Me A Magnetic Poetry Kit So We’re Writing Little Poems On The Filing Cabinets At Work

Reddit loves just recommending random subreddits to me and this is the latest. Love the anti shrimps on land sentiment on display here

“Babel” by Cildo Meireles (2001)

This machine kills AI

standard exam

1. “…and your mother said ‘Happy birthday. I am sorry to inform you that everyone you love is dead’”

Explain, with reference to Sylvia Plath’s first suicide attempt and subsequent admittance to hospital, the relevance of the quote above to your childhood, when, upon seeing the brilliant blue of a butterfly’s wings— (10 marks)

2. Should a poet’s work be

enjambed or read in sequence? Examinees are encouraged to utilise essay structure and one reference to Walt Whitman in their answer. (5 marks)

3.  There’s stardust in our eyes and laughter on our lips,

Over and over again the orchestra plays our last dance:

Amor, amor, amor— (10 marks)

4.  They saw that post you made last night, when you thought they had gone to sleep and you could let the hurt bleed.

Give up. It’s over. You’re over.

A person who has feelings is a ruined person unless they keep their mouth shut - which is exactly what you didn’t do.

(5 marks)

5. I hold stars for the gods, their flashing eyes are nebulae, colours blooming against the universe; their council is the companion of beauty and destruction.  The moirai, with their pale fingers, trace my body, as cold and unfeeling as porcelain, each brush a calculation and every new line a fate thrown into existence. They cut my golden hairs one by one; there is no string of fate, destinies are written in my stars—

(10 marks)

6.  “You trace my scars like you could brush them away and wipe the blood from my mouth as if it would remove the wounds on my lips.” Discuss this statement, with evidence cited from the decline of the relationship between Lucien Carr, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg to support your conclusion.  (5 marks)

7.  “Now the sky is still heartbreakingly blue. It’s a blue that lovers kiss under, in the cooling summer air, the kind that drags itself across the skin of my body and leaves a trail of goose bumps to hint at its existence. It’s so quiet I can hear the radio playing somewhere. It’s singing about people, and about feelings… feelings about people. It’s warbling words of love and murdering us with words edged like an axe. It’s crooning the song of death.”

Do you agree?  (20 marks)

8. Cassandra was gone long before her death, murmuring words, and words, and words; and her mind falling as Apollo watched her beauty heighten in her madness, and the truth will always be madness, but when she died with screams on her lips, she could not help but be satisfied with her choice, though it may never have been hers, because she cannot be her own person any more than you can stand to keep away from blades, do you understand please do you understand— (10 marks)

9. Is opinion a requirement for literature? Are you? (15 marks)

10.  If, at 5 A.M. on a Monday morning I still haven’t slept and countless cups of coffee have cooled in my hands, but I’m still reaching for your number in my phone even after you told me “never again”:

(i)                 Explain why the French Revolution was an amalgamation of poor leadership, economic troubles and enlightened thinking, making sure to provide sufficient illustration of the dramatic irony and use of paradox used by the authors of the nightmare you had two hours ago every night but never wake from.

(ii)               Draw the colour of your soul.

(10 marks)

—

BONUS QUESTIONS:

Shouldn’t you have learnt by now? (25 marks) Death won’t get an A on your exam. (25 marks) If I don’t exist, how do I know about me? (25 marks) Please? (25 marks) —

All working must be demonstrated. All questions must be answered. Illegibility will be penalised.

-E.C.

“1. “…and your mother said ‘Happy birthday. I am sorry to inform you that everyone you love is dead’” Explain, with reference to Sylvia Plath’s first suicide attempt and subsequent admittance to hospital, the relevance of the quote above to your childhood, when, upon seeing the brilliant blue of a butterfly’s wings—(10 marks) 2. Should a poet’s work be enjambed or read in sequence? Examinees are encouraged to utilise essay structure and one reference to Walt Whitman in their answer.(5 marks) 3. There’s stardust in our eyes and laughter on our lips, Over and over again the orchestra plays our last dance: Amor, amor, amor—(10 marks) 4. They saw that post you made last night, when you thought they had gone to sleep and you could let the hurt bleed. Give up. It’s over. You’re over. A person who has feelings is a ruined person unless they keep their mouth shut - which is exactly what you didn’t do. (5 marks) 5. I hold stars for the gods, their flashing eyes are nebulae, colours blooming against the universe; their council is the companion of beauty and destruction. The moirai, with their pale fingers, trace my body, as cold and unfeeling as porcelain, each brush a calculation and every new line a fate thrown into existence. They cut my golden hairs one by one; there is no string of fate, destinies are written in my stars— (10 marks) 6. “You trace my scars like you could brush them away and wipe the blood from my mouth as if it would remove the wounds on my lips.” Discuss this statement, with evidence cited from the decline of the relationship between Lucien Carr, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg to support your conclusion. (5 marks) 7. “Now the sky is still heartbreakingly blue. It’s a blue that lovers kiss under, in the cooling summer air, the kind that drags itself across the skin of my body and leaves a trail of goose bumps to hint at its existence. It’s so quiet I can hear the radio playing somewhere. It’s singing about people, and about feelings… feelings about people. It’s warbling words of love and murdering us with words edged like an axe. It’s crooning the song of death.” Do you agree? (20 marks) 8.Cassandra was gone long before her death, murmuring words, and words, and words; and her mind falling as Apollo watched her beauty heighten in her madness, and the truth will always be madness, but when she died with screams on her lips, she could not help but be satisfied with her choice, though it may never have been hers, because she cannot be her own person any more than you can stand to keep away from blades, do you understand please do you understand—(10 marks) 9. Is opinion a requirement for literature? Are you? (15 marks) 10. If, at 5 A.M. on a Monday morning I still haven’t slept and countless cups of coffee have cooled in my hands, but I’m still reaching for your number in my phone even after you told me “never again”: (i) Explain why the French Revolution was an amalgamation of poor leadership, economic troubles and enlightened thinking, making sure to provide sufficient illustration of the dramatic irony and use of paradox used by the authors of the nightmare you had two hours ago every night but never wake from. (ii) Draw the colour of your soul. (10 marks) — BONUS QUESTIONS: Shouldn’t you have learnt by now? (25 marks) Death won’t get an A on your exam. (25 marks) If I don’t exist, how do I know about me? (25 marks)Please? (25 marks) — All working must be demonstrated. All questions must be answered. Illegibility will be penalised.”

— standard exam, E.C.

Poster I did for fun

reading this list and realizing with wonder that some of the nonsensical ooo vernacular actually did make its way into my regular speech. i didn’t make words like “skrunk” up, they were beamed into me when i was young

adventure time slang is weird cuz like. when you first watch the show and hear the slang you're like "oh this is cringy slang but its not like awful" but it gets to a point where the voice actors deliver the slang so naturally you don't even notice it and its just. part of the world's vernacular. I can't think of any other show that's done in-universe slang like this

there's probably a better way of wording the last part but like come on it doesn't matter if we're all the same to fascists

Wednesday

    That night something crawled between my ribs and whispered to my heart until the blood in my veins was sullied with secrets.

Now when I scrape my knees the wounds never clot; they flow and seek and hunger.

To whom do I owe the bitter symbols etched upon my skin?

To whom do I owe the soil caked beneath my fingernails?

To whom do I owe the salt always layered on my teeth?

    The wind howls and it howls and I can’t help but wonder if it’s finally come for me.

Would things be so bad if it did?

    Point anywhere on the map and that’s where I am, I’m only solid here.

I could disappear like a magic trick if I truly and fully believed, but as with most things, even minute levels of doubt ground me to reality.

    If I decided to never sleep again I would spend my nights thinking of the sea and of colors and of all the music that will only be born long after I am buried.

Thinking of snake skins and the smell of Autumn and the feel of bone-deep hunger.

How easy it would be; to wake up one day for nothing to ever be the same again.