In honor of National Poetry Month, I’ve taken on the task of writing a poem a day during April (commonly called “30/30″). This has involved experimenting with multiple styles, including erasure, or blackout. This style involves taking something that is already written and erasing lines of it until it becomes something new. So far, I’ve done this twice this month, both with “pop punk” songs. After you’re done reading this, I challenge you to write an erasure poem using at least one song from your favorite band. Have fun with it, and enjoy these poems!
–
1. Erasure of “Jesus of Suburbia/City of the Damned/I Don’t Care/Dearly Beloved/Tales of Another Broken Home” by Green Day.
i’m rage and love,
Bible diet—
in hell, i got away with
me. i’m supposed to
believe in television,
fall in love-debt,
keep insane, do
someone else.
in the parking lot,
i taught home where heart-shame
beat out. at the end,
mislead lost faces
like holy scriptures.
confess care-less city—
dead highway signs to
no one. i don’t care.
i don’t. you don’t.
i care. you don’t.
full of shit hypocrites
recycle peace. disciples of
suburbia don’t believe in
me. are you
listening? i can’t remember
you. say demented space—
between insane and therapy,
please void: am i
perfect excuse?
run hurricane! lie
to this town, to lights
of time. don’t feel
broken.
home, you’re
leaving.
–
2. Erasure and mash-up of “Novocain,” “Sugar We’re Goin’ Down,” “The Kids Aren’t Alright,” and “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” all by Fall Out Boy.
am i dying?
i’m gonna make it
without wings.
say a prayer, god–
i think you’re my rain,
you know? you want
to hear who i am.
i’m just numb, a gun,
a problem, so please
hold this freak.
and sugar, i’ll be
your bullet complex–
i will always
land on your worst
nightmare until
i don’t feel a thing
for you. blessed be
between the sheets,
the streets, the smiles–
i want to make things
right, but he thinks
that’s the worst. he tastes
like future, wishing to be
messed up, just dying
to be in your heart.
and sugar, i’ll be
your god– cock and
closet. dream
your worst. i am
culture, new
novocain–
don’t mind me,
i’m just a thing.
my head bit
all those people dead.
i’d do it again, i’m
into the mood. so thanks
for the taste. for you,
i’m aggressive,
i feel exposed.
i think in hotel rooms,
thirsty like dirty sadness.
fill me up kid,
alright? fill it up,
don’t stop, heart.
i’ll be yours. pull it
down. we’re
going god.
