RANT POETRY COMPETITION 2.0 – AND THE FINALISTS ARE…

Pattie Flint, Rebecca Kerr and Jenna Tameris!

Out of tons of entries, we all decided that these ladies’ poems were the best we received on the subject of “Exit.”

Below you will find the three poems posted. Voting will be open, based on “likes” tonight and all day tomorrow.

I have to say this month’s submissions blew last month’s out of the water. Judging this was very difficult. I was so inspired by these poems, and though I was hesitant on using the subject “exit”, I am so glad I did. It was amazing how many ways these poets crafted their poems from one word.

I’d like to also announce that if in the future you would like a reminder about this monthly poetry contest, please send a blank e-mail, subject “MONTHLY RANT” to rantpoetrycompetition@gmail.com.

Thank you all for your time and patience.

Please vote below.

Love,

Brice

Check out last month’s winner, Shoshana Sarah.

Also, here’s a listing of the blogs that competed in the competition. They were all amazing. Please take a minute and check them out.

http://verbalrelapse.wordpress.com/

http://doublebarreledbackbone.wordpress.com

www.thepentress.wordpress.com

http://myredwinediary.wordpress.com/

http://trippingpencil.wordpress.com/

aplaceforpoetry.wordpress.com

snailbeachtails.com

angieinspired.wordpress.com

whittierstrong.wordpress.com

http://iwritemyself.wordpress.com

sunsetsandsweettea.wordpress.com

http://slipperyspeech.wordpress.com/

www.meliciouswarning.wordpress.com

http://rebeccaprompted.wordpress.com

http://afterhisimage.wordpress.com

wordcoaster.wordpress.com

http://pattieflint.weebly.com/

http://sakinahkatib.wordpress.com/

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NUCLEAR CREATION

this is the sound of the chaos that lives within the opium dens of the minds of the modern day pubescent creatures who crawl across midnight streets
they swim through the sound, they pierce their swollen skin with the needles of toxic ideology and the dance music of devils
the fires that burn in guts like drugs, like the fizzle of disease, like the acidic aftertaste of childhood but still all the red orange yellows and the green blue indigos glow on their faces racing for less sleep and more dilemma
we crave the taste of gravel, the god twisting turn tables, the agents of social murder, the proprietors of sore bodies and the come down from ecstatic heights
this is the world that we duplicate and spin on table tops in smoky lounges the size of problematic arenas, this is the kiss between morbid girls and suicidal boys
what we have on our hands is nuclear creation, to counterbalance nuclear destruction
this is windows down, hair blowing in faces, the bass blasting like super soakers into the hollow universe of three in the morning and we make birthquakes that everyone feels in their bones and veins but god, if most of us are just too numb to even want to notice

this is the sound of the chaos that lives within the opium dens of the minds of the modern day pubescent creatures who crawl across midnight streets
‘together we can face that rock and roll’, together we can chase radioactive unicorns to our destinies as demi-gods of a new hope for a better reality and a truer love
and today our parents hate us for it, but one day our ancestors will lift us to the technicolor sky and stare in awe as we present to them our magnum opus, our thunder and lightning show

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “IT’S A “LISTEN TO THE BEATLES ON VINYL IN HEADPHONES” KIND OF NIGHT

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, VARINIA RODRIGUEZ

Right now, I’m sitting with Varinia and she is reading me her compilation of people’s answer’s to the question, What does God collect?

She just asked me if God has back dimples.

When I said “Does he have back dimples?” she stopped me.

“You can’t gender God.”

Touche.

About a month ago, I posted a poem, “THE PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE OF VARINIA RODRIGUEZ”:

her words are semi-automatic rounds fired from her metal gut
do not fuck with her
this girl knows how to say “cunt”
emphasizing each consonant like a brooklynite biting his tongue
she stands like a soldier
on stage she sets herself on fire and its the audience who are left with third degree burns
leather jacket and heels
a camel hanging off her red lipstick
her red lipstick a soapbox
for the symphonic neurotic urgent purging of the psychological warfare of varinia rodriguez

(CONTINUE READING POEM HERE)

I am lucky to get to be the one to tell you the psychological warfare of Varinia Rodriguez is now available online through her WordPress blog: Pack Rat’s Daughter.

(Varinia keeps interrupting me while I’m trying to write about her.)

Anyways, case-in-point, Varinia is an incredible writer. Her honesty makes my honesty look like shit. Her poetry is innovative and comes from deep deep down in the bowels of her soul. Trust me. Follow her. You won’t regret it.

PACK RAT’S DAUGHTER

SK POETRY COMPETITION – FOR MONEY!

Sakina Katib, a fellow blogger and very talented poet, is hosting a poetry competition on her blog, asking competitors to write a poem using the words “dusk” and “dawn”. The best is if you win, you get a $50 Amazon gift card!

The contest is closing this Friday so get your entries in soon!

CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO

Also, coming soon – Round 2 of the Rant Poetry Competition!

IT’S A “LISTEN TO THE BEATLES ON VINYL THROUGH HEADPHONES” KIND OF NIGHT

after a
“walking home in the cold without a jacket”
kind of day

where i talked to
“god, you love to hear yourself talk”
kinds of people

who have
“i am passionate about reality t.v. and partying to bad pop music”
kind of personalities

when all i want is a
“this is just life; hold on and don’t fall asleep during the pretty parts”
kind of vibe in the air

or
“sometimes sitting alone drinking whiskey and reading whatever it is in my hands”
kinds of afternoons

where
“i have way better shoes than all of you”
kinds of people are missing

when the air is
“i don’t know what temperature or density this air is, but i fucking love it”
kind of air

it’s a
“whatever we feel like.
don’t stop for hitchhikers.
command your troops to battle.
pretend to love your enemies.
kiss and tell.
morning-after pill.
age-defying cream.
music video marathon.
green grass
with a body in the basement.
eight-bit delusion.
fix yourself.”
kind of world.

when all i want is a
“listen to the beatles on vinyl in my headphones”
kind of night

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “ON GOOD DAYS”