Tag Archives: happyMESS

poetry is supposed to flow, just like water: Mess

it falls from the sky, shedding

tears from heave above. provoking.

the tears hit me. such a

sensation on my skin leaving me limitless.

liquid trickles over my body, giving

me goosebumps and raising every hair it

passes over.

I am now enveloped in a hydrated

cocoon and find myself using only my

sense of feeling, as in to touch.

attempting to grab the water, it being

entirely malleable, runs over and

through me.

until it drips off of me, plunging towards

the ground.

it hits with a great velocity and plasters

the surrounding area.

I realize, just like poetry water

can not be stopped.

only redirected.

stories will never stop being told.

whispers will always be heard by those who are listening.

and dreams will never end.

 

a notebook piece by Mess.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under MESS

Poetry (snap): 2

Do you know how many types of

poetry there are?…No? There

are 55 different forms of poetry. All

conventions suggesting differential

interpretation to words and evoke emotive

responses.

In my case, my interest lies in spoken

word which is usually used as a

musical or entertainment term. It is

defined as a category of performance art

to encompass any new seriously developed

genre or traditional form that is

primarily word-based and is not

exclusively music, theatre or dance

but may include collaborations with

other non-word-based art genres

or works created in collaboration with

artists from non-word-based disciplines.

 

Now that you know my topic, let me

give you a little history about it.

According to Spokenoak: The History

of American Spoken Arts, spoken word

didn’t come into being until the late

1980’s. Adopted by academics and spun

off from rap music and rap battles,

spoken word has an element of

protest as well as a critical or

corrective tone.

 

The most well known advocate of

spoken word is the HBO series

Def Poetry Jam; hosted by Mos Def

and produced by hip-hop music

entrepreneur Russell Simmons.

 

–happyMESS (transcribed my Sangretti)

5 Comments

Filed under MESS, sangretti

Poetry (snap): 1

“At the edge of the earth everything

else just seems irrelevant. Falling off

isn’t so bad when it puts all into

perspective. Peripherals are non-existent

and sight expands a total of 500 degrees.

Three sixty in the physical and one

twenty of intuition. It is the

unexpected expectation.”

 

— happy Mess (transcribed by Sangretti)

3 Comments

Filed under MESS, sangretti

Monday October 12th 12:01-12:32AM

The possibility

of ruining

someones life just became a reality!

 

Speak softly,

I hear with my heart.

 

— happyMess (transcribed by Sangretti – 2012/10/08)

2 Comments

Filed under MESS

A Little About Our Friend Patrick happyMess

Memo–

(quickly)

When I was in the very beginning stages of conjuring up the idea for this blog, (the whole “long nights, smokey rooms, whiteboard, sticky notes, blah blah”), I knew I needed to get Mess on board. I decided the best way to talk to him about my idea was to drive over to his house – a house fit for day dreams – ask him if he wanted to go get high, do a little shopping and generally bask in the beauty of the day before us.

Later, we decided to explore some railroad tracks and behold some local graffiti artists fine art.

We were edging along the tracks, moving outward over a creek, working on getting a souvenir when a train blasted over head and shook us to our bones.

After we built up an appetite, we decided to go eat some sandwiches. It was then that I remembered why I had made the trip in the first place and got down to business.

I told Mess about my plan (at this stage, a mere idea) to start a blog where all my friends could post their writings that they had laying around. I told him that I noticed, sometimes I’d write something and just set it aside, forget about it, move on.

I asked him if he ever had a similar experience.

He said he did.

I grew excited and went on. I told him everything, I started to sweat and grow loud and my eyes grew large.

He remained fixated, embracing my emotional collage of words, listening to me verbally dream of a place where voices came together as one. Everyone of different backgrounds, not knowing each others true identities. A place where there wouldn’t be a second thought of whether something would be viewed as insignificant or obscure because, at one point, it had been stashed away with no plan of ever seeing the light of day.

We went to his house, a house fit for day dreamers, and rummaged through some notebooks.

Pages were scribbled, torn, filled overcapacity – perfect.

He told me, having just found a new job (and being in love with a nice girl wholeheartedly), that he didn’t think he’d have time to post. I told him, that wouldn’t be a problem, I’d simply take his notebook home, type everything up, and post for him. For a minute, Mess wasn’t sure of this. I told him I wouldn’t lose them and I’d return them in a week. He said that would work fine.

I ended up keeping the first couple notebooks for a couple months (Mess wasn’t mad). When I returned them, and told him of how things were going, he gave me another.

This relationship has worked out quite well and he has been more than willing to provide notebooks for me to transcribe.

One thing to note; however, is that I not only simply re-write what he’s written, but in some instances I must go ahead and correct words, create breaks, merge half-works, form poetry from notes and basically just edit his works into readable passages.

Also please note, I never change anything he’s written. I merely help shape” it.

 

That’s Mess.

I hope his posts make some more sense now.

 

This is Words of Birds.

I hope you enjoy.

 

— Sangretti

 

P.S.

– if anything ever doesn’t make sense, not just on Words of Birds but life in general, feel free to ask and we’ll see what we can do to help

3 Comments

Filed under MESS, sangretti

Frustrations Over: Lungs Still Collapsing

When has it ever been the here and now?

How long since you’ve watched as the world turned?

Thinking that critically only solves the problem momentarily,

How long must you continue to avoid those talks?

Cause I’m at my wits end with this one.

I’m being dragged by the collar,

Yet barely hanging on.

As though being told to not give up that last shred of hope.

I covet most that thing I used to have.

It’s that empathy for the other,

the sympathy.

It was a simpler me.

Or maybe this love in me.

It made me grow crazy.

I tell you now:

A wiser man.

Only threw the eyes of a few,

Each of us have our own plan.

—  happyMess (transcribed by Sangretti – 2012/09/12)

6 Comments

Filed under MESS

Tiny Black Notebook: 2

It scares you when you know your best friend has a sinister mind,

You know his brain is constantly pitching him evil plots to mentally and emotionally destroy people.
— happyMess (transcribed by Sangretti – 2012/09/15)

3 Comments

Filed under MESS