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Tuesday, August 6, 2013

AV Club

If you asked me what I wanted to become
When I was ten
I’d say Ali
Because when you were Ali
Things just went the right way
No matter what you’d say
It’d come out beautiful
Serene
Until some bizarre scene
At age seventeen
When she was telling me about her campers

Oh, I had the weird bunk
And I was like completely happy about it
Because deep down I’m a dork,
But they were so surprised I knew the Harry Potter musical
And I was talking about it to my unit head
Who is from the same town as some of them
And thing is that although they’re a lot of fun at camp
They have no clue how to act in the real world
While the other girls are hooking up with the guys
They just want a guy to ask them to banquet
And hold their hand

I hold back that I was in that bunk
That I still want those things
That I’m about to go into college
And just like those 13 year olds
I'm ok just being kissed
I resist the wish
To tell her that I got into my top choice
Been told a world without my love is doom
Performed for a room 
I don't boast
That I've had an article on the Huffington post
While only ever undressing myself with words

Because we live in a world
Where we are taught
Not only to hate our bodies
But what we do with them

You don’t want to be a nerd
But just the right amount of slut
That sex is the only cool way to be touched
And if we go too far we are rushed
Into titles
Acceptable by not us but celebrity idols

If you have a scarlet A or V
You’re a member of the AV club

I’ve read so many whore confessionals
But never a poem about the sin
Of the lip virgin
Because we’re engaged in something too shameful
Good is the new bad
And there’s nothing as sad
As the celibate old hag
Because unlike tricks
We can’t bitch
About our issues with our dad
And we have abuses of excuses
Of girls who treat their bodies as his
But my best friend
Must extend a lie
When she looks you in the eye
And “confesses” how far she’s bin
Because apparently a body can’t be a temple
If it’s let no one in
And the thread of civilization is wearing thin
When both "whore" and "virgin"
Are an insult

But I just sit there
Unable to revolt
When perfect Ali tells me
That anyone who hasn’t fit into the complex of sex
Can’t survive in society
I just want to bolt
Because it’s clear that loving yourself isn’t enough
And all this bullshit stuff
Like you suck if you don’t suck
But if you suck too much then you’re a slut
And innocence is just an unlucky rut

I don’t kick her butt
And say what makes me hot
Is the spot
Where my soul goes on fire
And that all women are created are equal
Whether they love for words or hire
Just because sex sells
Doesn’t mean I have to be a buyer
And I’ll still respect you
If you’ll respect the fact I'm not a what
I'm a who
Because I’m no late bloomer
I’m a tree
And when spring comes
It’ll be right on time for me
Because I’m not going to reflect
A society that won’t accept
Girls who go to the streets so they can eat
But those who give everything out for free
Because there is nothing sexier
That watching “Sex In the City” on DVD

But I sit silent
Afraid to speak
Transformed into meek
By the threat I’ll be a freak
Because brides still wear white
But chastity is no longer chic
And I feel my voice trying to peek
Through my fears and ribs
As I replace my personal taste
With nods and fibs
And I just think what a waste
Of a perfect face
Sewed onto a soul of misconceptions
And wrong directions
Who thinks she’s a ten
Because she’s given that many erections
Caught in the reflection
Of who we can and can’t be
Thinking that feminism and liberty
Is another reason to get on your knees
Because Alice Paul and Susan B. Anthony
Fought for us to do what we please
Not to please
That we have the choice of being a prude or tease
If we want to fly like the birds
Before we get busy like the bees
And the girl who I wished I could be
Who’s got popularity and admission into Ivies
Thinks anyone taking their time has a disease
And it’s not just STDs that have us infected
Because we’re living life unprotected
A mix of the 50s and 70s
Women are trying to breathe out progress
But all we exhale is a wheeze
And beam at the scheme
That says you have to be gay
To play for your own team
And that it’s ok to say
Ariel, hey,
It’ll happen for you some day
Like standing on my own feet I’m incomplete
For we’re not just searching for seats in congress
But the room that can possess
The right to address our own destiny
Where we can be who and with who we want to be
Not the land of free love
But self love
And now I’m don’t want to be Ali,
Even though she’s a bright dove
But the girl who’s ok to say
All of the above.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Private Practice

When people ask me what I do
I'll tell them I have a private practice
Because it's easier than saying
I write these secret poems about you
The kind I put on my blog
But not Facebook
Because I know that you'll only find them
If your searching
Which unveils the care you're hiding from me
That in silent rooms you shout me
Breathing in the echo of my name
The thrill of testing you
Supplements that of loving you
And using words as intense as love in my poems
When thy're premature
When I'm not sure I feel them yet
You've changed my writing
I've lost the internal rhythms and rhymes
Things are less calculated now
I'm not writing to impress
To improve my craft
I'm writing to understand my own thoughts
For the first time I've become the reader
They're products of empty moments
Quality time between me and my head
I'm rejected the impulse to continue with what sounds good
What will transform this into entertainment
I'm not basing it off the story
I'm trying to write it
You should be proud
You've got me naked
Not dressed in embellishments and false passion
Crafting theatrical affections
Over and over until I've convinced myself they're real 
I'm not accustomed to falling in love without my pen
Confliction and affliction
My inability to determine if any of it is sincere 
Is foreign to me
I'm wrapping my arms around an unfamiliar form 
Because for the first time in my career 
There is no audience
I'm writing these (love?) poems for myself
They're not meant for page viewers
Or acclaim
Reception is insignificant
And I can't explain how bizarre it is for me to own my own art
I thought I've sold the rights to my work
To pay for my creative license
It's terrifying to have this power
The liberty to write honestly
Not eloquently
But no one wants authenticity
Love is blindness
Talent is facade
Adoration's expiration date
Is until deemed realistic
And I can't be a public figure 
With a private practice.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Poet Problems


During my first break up
My boyfriend told me to stop using metaphors.
Dick.
I get really pissed off when songs have bad slanted rhyme
I've spent more time watching slam poetry than TV 
I find a guys pick up line much more relevant than his face 
To me
An I love you is a more alarming and disarming attack than a suicide bomber
But I'd call you my "love" before the "boy I like" first because it sounds better
My tongue is more precious than my lungs
And my lips more essential than my liver
I think things like light and wind can quiver
Silence makes me shiver because its so damn cold
And stories are the only thing I've ever told
My freezer can mold more words than ice
My fridge however just molds strawberries
My mother finds haikus in my pants as she folds laundry
And I remember the lines I wrote about my first dance more than the romance
Chances and change jingle in my pockets
And I only obey wedding bells
The only thing ill sleep with is your diary
But it won't be protected ;)
I've perfected the art of only having readers desire me
Because I know these are my problems
My poet problems
(Though anyone who wanted to see their child become a doctor would say being a poet is the problem)
But you
You say they're your favorite part of me
That the chip on my shoulder came from carrying too many similes
And the fact I rhyme is what weakens your knees
How I can find a thousand synonyms for sex makes me sexy
Are you for real?
This perplexes me
If this is a way to steal my heart
Then you--
You
Have got it down
Because I'd rather wear words than a wedding gown 
You told me you'd like to get me down
And write you poetry
From what I know about guys
You're either insane or have ovaries
I'm seventeen and have cellulite!
I think ice cream is a food group
I watch game of thrones and put poems about guys I like on my blog
These things should hog your attention
Not the fact I can mention that rhymes with convention
And say that to attend detention is a shit invention that we should throw a wrench in because we already have this endless sentence of adolescence which leaves us just craving independence 
That's not romance 
At least to most people
These are problems
You should address that my poetic dresses need hems
Not treat my quirks like gems
Unless, of course
You also have them?

Contact

Ariel is available and interested in anything creative!
For spoken word performances & workshops, web & graphic design, or other writing/film projects please contact via email at arielsob@usc.edu.
New York & Los Angeles work preferred!