LA Archives - Page 2 of 8 - Lovelorn Poets

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: Dear Film Industry

June 22, 2015 by lovelornpoets

Dear Film Industry

Dear Film Industry….

I will miss you. I ran out of money to bribe you to stay, but the truth is, you have been itching to leave me long before I told you I was broke. You have used and abused me for several decades now, and I guess I am just too washed up for you these days.

I know you will have plenty of fresh young eager blood in your next state of choice to take advantage of, and I know they will graciously accept you with open arms just as I did in the 00’s.

You are leaving behind a beautiful partnership of nearly free labor from the hungry to the desperate alike, but I understand your need to make your movies and t.v. shows with not only cheap labor, (many times free labor) but your gold digging lusty desires for incentives have to be fed to keep you in good health. I completely understand.

However, don’t expect me to come chasing after you like so many of my friends are doing. This whole process of following the theological buffalo herds is just as ludicrous as your insatiable pallet. I intend to stay where I am comfortable, move if I feel like it, and live out the rest of my life working full time, making my own movies with my own investments paying my crew wages they can pay bills with.

I was disillusioned with you before, I am parting ways, bidding you adieu, wishing the dreamers luck, and seeing where the next few years of my life take me.

Sincerely….
Louisiana

I will miss you
I ran out of money
I told you I was broke
I guess

I am just too washed up for you these days
I know you will have plenty of fresh young eager blood
I know they will graciously accept you with open arms just as
I did in the 00’s

I understand
I completely understand
I intend to stay

I feel like
I was disillusioned with
you before

I am
Sincerely Louisiana

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: Keywords

July 16, 2014 by lovelornpoets

Magnetic Fridge Poetry by Steve A Johnson

the funny thing about the “o” ‘s (though it’s a formality)
control in all of its formats
former northern explorers
Amazonians
ugly garments
drive thrus
numerous holes in the head
black dogs
Northern pacific
the hippies
planting portably
my favorite place to retreat
Seattle
global politics
kamakaze fish
Twix v. Reeces v. WhatthefÃƒ ‚Ã‚ £{=Ãƒ ‚Ã‚ ¡!ever that was
things that float
the “Robin” issue
determining distance
superhumanism
street signs
DYNOHUGS!

if you thought I loved you then,
I wouldn’t even know what to call it now.

Her Two Cents

Keywords are used to reveal the structure and focus of a writer’s reasoning – a shortcut of sorts that provides a reader with a glimpse or “sneak preview” of what can be found within the body of work. Quite a story, many stories actually, could be generated from our poet’s list. If we write the keywords before we write the story, how might the outcome be different? Hmmm …

Lovelorn Poet in Baton Rouge, LA: Poem 8

July 2, 2014 by lovelornpoets

Looks like rain by Butterbean Man

Right there in the rain
One day, yes that one
a single sentence dripped from her full red lips…
let’s begin again our love, soulmate
Eyes stuck in a trance for my own liberation
Unable to refocus my view
I repaired my insides in the aftermath that was two
life force liberated my cup ran over and over nothing was out of reach with you
Your Humpty Dumpty pulled all apart and then reassembled just for your affections
I was weighed, measured and found lacking it’s true
Soul suffering long winters bone twice
Hard frozen heart, lifeless and blue
I walked to our place in the rain,
That place in which I thought you already knew
Watching rains droplets become one with their fate
Felt those old feelings I’d learned to hate
Birds flying by singing our songs
Moons light blackest of blue
Stars tear from the sky jilted lovers of her moon
Looking across the water swearing I saw you
I’d say ask Alice, for she was there too, stirring her eggs in the brood
I’ve tried replication my purchases false
their substitutes have no revelations,
their prophets are all lost.
She who knows my truths in the faces of liars, has the scarlet letter in hand
I bow knee to her alone my head at her throne
Her golden syllabus runneth over
letters dropping like flies in the soup of her careful words
Ears pressed against the universe listening for my vibrations in these stanzas
whose heart filled dark with concerns
My quills ink flows to paper and my heart learns to beat the familiar tune
my eyes now fixated in the mind of truth
I will not rest until I hear from you and your intoxicating brew
You know my desires inside and out, betwixt and between
all the weathered cracks and seams
if your love with fated pair be true
why is it I keep running into you
no kindness left undone
whose loveless life you wanted
seems ill fitted for you
I am madly totally completely and still, enamored with the thought of you.

Her Two Cents

This is the last in the series of rather tragic love poems posted to the Baton Rouge missed connections earlier this year. I did save, and read, all of the pieces that were shared and chose to publish those I thought spoke a universal language. Love, desire, heartbreak, and pain know no prejudice and offer equal opportunity in bestowing their emotional riches and traumas.

Lovelorn Poet in Baton Rouge, LA: Poem 4

June 11, 2014 by lovelornpoets

Louisiana Red Fish by Spencer Blake

Leaving your troubles at the exit
should’ve been easier after all we’ve learned.
Incandescent lights in the distance,
we find ourselves in our own created darkness.
Lips stitched tightly together,
by an unknown thread whose other end lies at your tired feet.
My undying love can set you free,
its embers ignited by the thought of you,
simply call my name.
I miss you more than you can see, but only feel with your frozen heart.
Cracking the ice between us at last, our souls remain, having left my bones at your doorstep.
I never cared what you did with your body,
your heart always belonged to me.
I punished myself on my knees, each time you left and every moment since.
The day we met I knew after five minutes of looking into your eyes I’d never be the same until you returned.
Park bench at waters edge I await.
Our lives are not our own at this moment, but could be.

Her Two Cents

Poem 4 is part of a poetry series that was shared on the Baton Rouge feed earlier this year. While the words were written about a particular person (according to a message posted by a person claiming to be the author) they could also represent the voice of the animals in our lives. So often we get consumed with human-to-human relationships that we can forget the ones we share with all other living creatures.

Lovelorn Poet in Baton Rouge, LA: Poem 2

May 28, 2014 by lovelornpoets

MISSING: Have You Seen My Soul? Photo by LarryBobSF

Coptic lines written on the feathers of angels,
Love letters not burned in the fires we set for each other
We remain inches in distance,
but lifetimes apart.
Skewed moments and memories creep back into the room we just left.
I am haunted by your love that I still feel deep where you left it,
inside my soul.
I find that Nowhere is there a place to hide.
We are still connected,
as always
and two different cars exactly like yours in rapid succession always means we will see each other,
that very day.
You pretend me a stranger, and deny me twice,
as if we’d never been in love at all, or even met.
And sometimes when I’m alone at night, I wish that were still truth.
If I believed in betrayal, I might have accused you of it;
you went missing like a child on a milk carton.

Her Two Cents

This is the second in a series of poetry that was posted to the sleepy Baton Rouge feed several weeks ago. All written by the same person? Perhaps… perhaps not. One anonymous message made an authorship claim, but as LarryBobSF’s investigation of this street art photo illustrates, just because it exists doesn’t mean it’s real.

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