MY FIRST POST HERE - YIPPIEEEE

Yo whatup guys, ManFran here. I gotta say I really like what everyone's trying to do here. The vibe is a good one, not so cosmetic or boring as many blogs have a tendency of becoming. Anywho, when I first heard about it, I suppose I was most excited to see some poets in the commune. Everyone seems to have some seriously intriguing rhetorical talent. Furthermore, it's even cooler to hear new poems and get some friendly feedback from your own chums. This is a luxury I never had when writing, simply because the circles I roll in don't necessarily share my same appreciation for art. So, kudos to the commune and everything it is striving to be.

I guess explaining where I'm coming from in regards to my poetry could be entirely against the point of writing poetry in the first place, so, all I'll say is: what I've seen here is largely abstract. I can't really say I write as abstractly, but perhaps with a more descriptive prose/narrative and a simple expression. I don't know lol. Also, recently, I've gone on a quatrain binge haha. Can't get enough of 'em. But I digress. Check out these two: Tampa on the Curb and Opera at a Providence Hole-in-the-Wall.

Tampa on the Curb

Head in my hands, I'm not sure if I quite contemplate my life
as much as I consider why the road beneath me seems to be
emulating the Atlantic coastline.

In my current state, I attribute the motion in the ocean
of concrete to the seven dollars worth of alcohol that
SkyBar offered me.

Now, I understand that seven dollars worth may not seem
like it could take me a long way on a Friday or Saturday
night, but when you take into account that

seven ones bought me an open bar for an hour, you'd figure out
why I'm in the condition I'm in, and why I'll soon be
crawling along the sidewalk and into a yellow cab,

barely able to enunciate the numbers and letters of
my address to a man that probably wouldn't be able to
understand me if I were sober anyway.
Copyright © 2008 Manny Francis III


Opera at a Providence Hole-in-the-Wall

50 cents a beer sounded like something I read
from a Hunter S. Thompson novel,

so with an anticipatory air about me,
I walked into the dive, only to be

disappointed once again, not only from the
pretentious college crowd, but also

because of the tragic contents of my beverage.
What could one expect for two quarters

but a cup about half the size of my hand and
a couple of dribbles from a keg of Natural Ice?
Copyright © 2008 Manny Francis III