Why I hate doing freestyle poems
And why I'm doing it right now
As my own revolt against myself
In attempt to free myself from stigma
And perhaps, others in the process
Well, then, let's start
773Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOoGzKc8FYE
The Masters in Renaissance trained
To become Master Artists
Education about anatomy
Paints and easels and sponsorship
Must've been nice
But perhaps the same way, the old condemns the young
Perhaps, these Renaissance men suffered the same social attacks
Every new knowledge and anyone who had potential
Had been shot down the moment they were spotted
But Ol' Albert has said:
Know the rules, then break them
But somehow, I couldn't find strength to break the things I'm used to. There are rules to prevent people like me to ramble on because there's so much to talk about and is something as thick as this line still be called poetry?
I claim myself a poet
I laugh
I realize today
I know nothing of poetry
I still have got lots of questions
I search for it myself
Or if kindly, tell me
773Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsL1aevUfMr
The old art have died
To give way to freedom
The old cared for form
Modernism revolted
But too much of everything
Eventually backfires
I hate to cross the line
I hate to see the time
When
We
Call
Excessive
Use
Of
Enter
Key
And
Space
Bars
A
Poem
What
Will
Be
Next
Wor
Ds,
L
E
T
T
E
R
S
B
R
O
K
E
N
U
P
L
I
K
E
T
H
I
S
?
I've always thought my defiance to freestyles
Was some form of self discipline
I've set myself some boundaries
And I know myself well
I can
S
T
E
E
P
Over so
L
O
W
A
N
D
B
E
F
O
R
E
I ruin everything,
I'd
L
I
K
E
To stop
Myself
Even so now, I'm throwing irony on every window I see
Because
I
C
A
N
But I cannot see art in white space
And sell it for a million
$ Dollars $
They have their reasons
Everyone has reasons
But art does not operate on reason
Cold logic brings order to this world
Emotions bring color to this world
Too much and I foresee a disaster
Or maybe it's just me
And my want to remain
In a place I always know
Will always know
The ever constant comfort zone
There must have been reason
For the old hating the new
Asides from the envy of their new bones
And there must be reason
For the new resisting the old
Eventually we all grow
So does it still remain the same rebellion?
Or do we realize the stupid things--
Oh, being young
Never lasts
Or does it?
773Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyKiX1w0ncf
A building must have a structure
There should be a plan
Or else the structure collapses
There should be windows and doors
Or where else would we enter?
The way I see buildings is the way I see poems
Structure, rhyme, plan, measure, form
I admired my poems
More structured and planned than my life
But now and then, I feel like
I'm licking a cold slab of stone
So I asked a friend to critic my poem
And she's just as harsh as your old person criticizing the way you dress
There's something wrong, friend one said
I knew it
No emotions, no feelings
Just like skyscrapers
They're just there and one may see a prize in them,
But not all
It's just a building afterall
I know that if I choose a path,
The other might close
But I want to remain at the crossroads
Yet this is not how I grow
Move on forward somehow
Where and when did I ever restrict myself?
Long ago, grade four, five, I was young
Here goes someone I see as sister
She reads my freestyled poems
Then looks me in the eyes and say,
This is not poetry
And to put water to the flame,
Which did not help,
She said, there's freestyle, anyways
Thus, my attitude towards freestyle
I promised myself I'd write poems
The way Shakespeare did
Studied by heart poetry
Now tell me a cliché: poetry is supposed to be felt
And I'll slap the hell out of you
Because I know, there's something
Wrong
In what I do
By heart, I studied
My heart, I lost
Rules and regulations
What, like first graders?
Even those little fuckers
Have more strength to rebel than I have
But my view divides into two
I see why they don't want us to rebel
I see why we want to rebel
And I want to remain in between
Is this still possible?
773Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡna1bmyL9rZ
I have made
Structured, meterred, rhymed, formed
Tall, rigid structures that never fall
Under fire, water, cold, earth,
It never moves
Itself or other's hearts
And I called them poetry
Foolish little girl
I'd allow others to write it
Allow others the freedom
Not me, never me
I would never have the courage
To call these jumbled sentences
S e p e r a t e d
W
O
R
D
S
Without structure, rhyme, plan, measure,
Poetry
Especially if it was I
Who made it
But to err is human, to improve is divine,
I'm doing it now
To remove stigma against freestyle poems
Wish me luck and hope I don't
End up losing heart again
Or if I do
I'll find my way, anyways
Thank you
ns 15.158.61.42da2 
