Tuesday, December 18, 2018

My Drive to Work (an Homage to Los Angeles)

by quinne anderson (writer), Los Angeles, November 08, 2006


the 5, the 10, 101 and 110...
a whore's legs, spread before me

A regiment of phalli thrusts upward,
raping the polluted uteran sky.

The highways are a harlot,
trod upon by the city's inhabitants
who vie ceaselessly for position on her emaciated limbs

The surface streets: a tangled web of broken women
strewn across the landscape
They are heaped one upon the next
an overflowing harem, layered haphazardly
scrambling madly to escape their misogynist hell:
into the desert, toward the ocean,
into the valleys between the breasts of stronger women
mountains, risen above the melée.

A turgid yellow bus pumps away
where the highways hold their orgy
thrusting, driving
spewing forth billows of diseased black ejaculate.

Passing the buildings, tumescent genitalia
renders me powerless in femininity

When lost in this (the city of men)
downtown's syphilitic penises become my beacon
Atop the bosom hills
I see the skyline
looming in a dark haze of anger,
an abusive husband putting me in my place.

About the Writer

quinne anderson is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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6 comments on My Drive to Work (an Homage to Los Angeles)

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By Annonymous on November 08, 2006 at 08:22 pm
Wow, it's not like you take yourself too seriously, this is so upbeat and uplifting. I never realized the ginat phallus that is often mistaken for a series of roads was so oppressing. Take the bus and quit whining.
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By quinne anderson on November 08, 2006 at 08:47 pm
It's a fucking poem, you twit, and it's not meant to be uplifting. If you think I'm whining, you're an idiot--it's an HOMAGE TO LOS ANGELES--a city where sex sells, plastic surgery is expected, and women sleep with casting directors just to get a non-speaking role in some bullshit HBO miniseries. You don't even have the balls to confront me with your real self, but instead post anonymously. You apparently don't understand it at all. I absolutely love Los Angeles and its dichotomous nature--the same things that make it sickening are the same things that make it magical and cause it to flourish. I don't, however, love passive aggressive people like yourself who, rather than stopping to think about something for a moment, pass quick judgment on it because it's not mindless entertainment with a happy ending. But thank you for your gutless, anonymous opinion. It means a lot to me.
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By Annonymous on November 09, 2006 at 07:26 pm
Based on your reaction, I am glad I chose to remain anonymous. The fact that you assume I have "balls" in the first place merely confirms my suspicion of your prejudice. The need to engender inanimate objects in such a derogatory fashion is what I found most troubling, and any exit you might've had through allegory has been dammed by the motives expressed so overtly in your heated response. I find your suggestion that I made a quick judgment to be ironic give your own presumptions; the underdeveloped triteness and predictability of your poem is best shared at a coffeehouse open mic night rather than a journalistic publication.
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By quinne anderson on November 10, 2006 at 04:31 am
May I reiterate that IT'S A POEM. You ought not attempt a discussion about allegory, since you apparently don't understand it one iota. If you did, you might comprehend that I'm not actually prejudiced, not against women OR men. I honestly can't figure out why you would think that I am, or why you think that I find L.A. oppressive. I have merely chosen ideas and words to create imagery that, for me, makes a point, paints a picture, not to spew bile at this city I call home. If I didn't like it here, I'd move. So the point I was making to your original comment (which was so well thought out and constructive) about my poem not being "upbeat and uplifting", was obviously completely lost on you. I would also like to extend my apologies to you for your inability to take things for more (or even less) than they are. Not everything is literal--I beg you to forgive the balls comment, for your inability to understand what some might call "a figure of speech". I should have said guts to be more clear. The heat of my response comes from your pointless and unhelpful comment. It's fine with me that you don't like the poem--nobody's work will please everybody, and I'm not trying to please anyone. Poetry is written for oneself, not for the masses. Save the mass appeal for political speeches. My point is this: If you're going to comment on someone's work in the future, whether positively or negatively, let it be constructively critical, not childish, petty, and pointless. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.
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By quinne anderson on November 10, 2006 at 04:37 am
One last thing, and I'm done with you, oh dear mystery man/woman/thing. If the poem was really as trite and predictable as you say (and, come to think of it, if I heard it in a coffeehouse, I'd probably say the same thing about it--most poetry really does suck, just like most writing in general), then it wouldn't have moved you to take the time to slam it in the first place. So the fact that I've evoked a reaction from you at all, even as unpleasant as it may be, still suits my purpose. So I apologize (this time without sarcasm) for my vituperation and thank you just as sincerely.
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By Jack Bates on January 14, 2010 at 12:25 pm

I thoroughly in enjoyed this. Maybe Mr. Annonymous is confused because this is listed under "Lifestyle - City Living" and not "Creative - Poetry"? After the first 2 lines I figured that out and went on the literary commute through your eyes to try and envision how you saw this city. Mr. Annonymous, this isn't a piece to agree or disagree with, it is one to experience.

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