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Poetry and Discussion

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.  (Robert Frost)

The Constant by Erin Schuster

Erin Schuster's "love letter to Lucubrations. The sanctuary in the steady, unwavering, inviting corner of the world across the street from the rest of campus. "
Thanks to all of you that made it a safe space for us to grow into voices this year.

The Constant by Erin Schuster

 

Poems for AVERT against Rape Culture

 Here are Some Poems that speak the truth about Rape Culture:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Open Mic in LLC at 8PM tonight

Open Mic Night tonight at 8PM in LLC Classroom

Robert Frost's House

 Pictures from Robert Frost's Home in Franconia, where he lived from 1915-1920.

Their Words by Paul Goodspeed

155. Their Words
by Paul Goodspeed

Valentines Day Open Mic Feb. 2016

Lucubrations Open Mic
Eye

Lucubrations Open Mic
image
Thursday February 11. 8:00 PM
(Signup starts at 7:30PM)
Comiskey Room 10 

Valentine's Day Open Mic!
Share your poetry, writing, music, or other creative work, or just come to watch. Food and Refreshments.

Some poems for Enough is Enough


Some Poems for Enough is Enough

 

Sheryl Luna Shock and Awe

Patricia Lockwood: Rape Joke

June Jordan: Poem about My Rights

Poem by young girl who killed herself because of bullying

Marge Piercy: The friend

Anne Sexton: Briar Rose

Marge Piercy: The Rape Poem

Adrienne Rich; Aunt Jennifer's Tigers

Countup

 1 thing

2 tell you.

3 strikes you’re out,

4 not answering to me.

5 reasons why this week sucks:

6 days ago I asked you something.

7 minutes before you responded, each minute hurt.

8 um’s later I walked out the door forever.

9 at night pitch black, freezing cold and lonely out.

10 times you called me. Stop. It’s over. Leave me alone.

 

What You Need to Understand and Preferably Also Not Understand

 

 

I realized two days after the end before the beginning and upon subsequent completion the end was the beginning is the end. Words man, words say things, they open up a world of indefinite reality set upon vinyl to a record player of life. A side, B side, each has its qualities and each has its way of being. Can the tortoise shell glasses redeem the sacrificial lamb from its wrongs upon the hill of judgment? Can a semi-religious statement be made to seem like one come from the mouth of a non-believer? Mark off the prices of idiosyncratic Black Friday stores, raid them for their wares, for their solutions to ancient living. Turn statements and maxims on their heads and understand than going forth, that moving is preferable to standing still. Relativity doesn't apply here Einstein, understand this kind of statement too is funny because it confronts an expression. Understand wordplay might be more important than understanding, that the Black Forest contains secrets of mythological understanding set upon a pedestal of nothingness and lies. Understand that saying you are mighty fine and being mighty fine are one in the same. There is no lie at play here. The cliché goes that people always lie when they say “I'm fine” but in this case you should speak it truly. You are fine. You are alive. You are fine. You breathe. You are fine. You can eat a calzone and send that motherfucker down your throat, through your digestive tract and enjoy the crap out of it.

Some Occu-Thoughts

I.

tents searched
i slept with two blankets
no necesito
and prince slept with none
on some
laid by
kevin with one eye

the space for us has walls of air
and privacy is a favor done by not looking
'
the same white man
with a white beard
and carrying like a fisherman says
that common sense is expedient of tradition
and i hear him to my back left
by the benches where drummers stalk

you cannot
drink the same liquor
twice

there is a ripple of beautiful heads
shaved balding oily chunks floral swipes
of brown torquiose golden hair
all flashing the sky's reflection
as they are
nodding
together
nodding at a call for politeness
nodding to the call of "it just is"
and the hair burns

that smell of eyebrows
the nicotine-stained curling of eyelashes
melting away from fire catching
the excess paper of a badly rolled cigarette
climbing above my nose

their heads burn in my eyes
as they call for cleanliness
as a well-slept Ms. whatever
with the latest running shoes
implores our people to fight against crack
and violence
and the red eyes of the affected are red
either with phallic righteousness
or chemicals
and none of us speak to the toxins
rising from our styrofoam plates
from the trucks painted by missionaries

and the air walls tell me he is looking for me
the radio tells me with suicidal poetry that he is looking
and my justification my love of solitude battles
my justification my love of humanity
and my love of humanity is torn by the loyalty of nature

now when skateboards smack down their wheels
i hear guns
and my nerves pick up
 

Enough Is Enough Creative Prompt

 Here's an opporunity to create. Saint Anselm is currently involved in Enough Is Enough, a campaign against bullying, violence, and abuse. As a collective effort, we were asked to produce some sort of artistic, literary or musical response to the mission this campaign has set forth.

Enough Is Enough has provided us with some information they'd like to convey. The boundaries are grey and the space is unlimited; do with this as you will. I'm excited to see what comes out of this!

Guy Fawkes Day

Guy Fawkes Day

 

Blow up my heart
and leave its pieces
coalescing
slowly gathering in bits
protoplasmic slithers
crawling back across the
floor.
Reform the shrapnel shards
to unforseen configurations
captured by the phantom pull
of a gravity you do
not know you have.

Hope is dynamite
explodes the past
to ever branching, flowing outward,
starry fingered, curling trails.
Hope is a whisper
to the flying pieces
to settle softly
along the gradient
lines of force
that point in silence
to the future.

Hope is a bomb.
Blow up my heart.

 

Where no light reaches

 

Rays

I will linger in the spaces
Where no light reaches
Where no words come
Where reasons unravel
And thoughts crash one to the other
Faster than memory collects them
I will be madness
Abandon the light
Spill out my life
On the floor along your passing shadow.
And I can't say why.

 

Pulitzer Prize Recipient and Poet Laurean Maxine Kumin

Oct 12 2011 7:00 pm

 Wednesday, October 12, 7 p.m., NHIOP Auditorium

 

Lucubrations Campfire

Oct 14 2011 7:00 pm

 

Poetry and stargazing around the campfire.

Location: Observatory
 

Open Mic Night Our Indian Summer Jam

Sep 23 2011 7:00 pm
Sep 23 2011 9:00 pm

Picture


Acoustic artists, musicians, poets,comedians and people who have too much angst for their own good and wouldn't mind sharing it with us, PLEASE GRACE US WITH YOUR PRESENCE! SIGN UP OR SHOW UP! If your planning on playing more than a song or two please let us know ahead of time so we can manage our slots so everyone gets a chance to play. ALSO...BRING A FRIEND & enjoy a free night of music, poetry, great coffee and good company. SO SHOW UP AND SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARTISTS!

For more info or to sign up please email us at:

apothecafloral@gmail.com

Lucubrations Creative Tuesday

Sep 20 2011 6:00 pm
Sep 20 2011 9:00 pm

 

Picture

Recipe for a Box

Must be a genius.

Must have a BIG

loving heart for fuckups.

Wear collared buttondowns, surfshorts

and "slippahs" with shades.

Long gray ponytail. Laugh.

What is it about the late night?

What is it about the late night?

I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm not focused

yet up I sit and up I stay

staring at a screen, waiting on a wheel

that spins round, and round, and round

internet's slow, everyone online, but I don't mind

it's odd but I'm content to sit, to watch

to ponder, but ponder's too heavy, I'm not doing much

just sitting haunched, squinting with out glasses

excited about this new world, this new place

where I am free, I can be creative, I can express!

me, do I want myself here? putting it on the line

in front of strangers, people I don't know, never met, never saw

I'm scared, but exhilarated, who cares?! I'm here!

I'm free to be, free to think, to hope, to dream

it's late I need sleep, classes to survive

but up I sit and up I stay

What is it about the late night?

Audio from Open Mic at the 2011 Open House

The Quality isn't the best and we missed the beginning (Jeremy Munro's epic introduction). The recording starts in the middle of Justine Johnson's reading, and then in order appear Tyler Lavallee, Prof. Banach, Valerie Stein, Lauren Miller, and Valerie Stein again. Thanks to all the performers. We had a great time!