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What I'm Doing
02/17/10 at 11:26 PM by Matt Chylak
Watching luging on the Winter Olympics. Looks absolutely ridiculous...the Austrians just won doubles going like 134 km/h down a tube that some kid died in a week ago. I feel a poem coming on.

Seeing the new artwork for MGMT's "Congratulations" has me excited and I didn't even give the first record a full listen (love all the "singles" but never picked it up for some reason). Hopefully they're my Vampire Weekendesque Breakout of 2010.

Reading cummings, thought I'd do some



may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

Tags: poetry, e.e. cummings, Olympics
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Ode to Brand New
11/11/09 at 07:13 PM by Matt Chylak
Dear Brand New,

You've been my favorite band for a long long time,
From the Shower Scene to Play Crack the Sky.
From Jesus Christ to Bought A Bride,
Your music has always been at my side.

From Sowing Season toms to Lucabombs
You know I'm a sucker for all of your songs.
I've screamed "You Won't Know" at the top of my lungs
And mistakenly downloaded "The Break-Up Song."

But highs and lows, albums or shows,
I know you'll stay with me wherever I go.
On this warm college bed, when my head feels like lead
Or on a sinking ship off the Montauk coast.

So Jesse, Fight Off The Demons Raging Inside of You.
Vinnie, don't mind the 'Handcuffs' jokes.
Garret, Brian, and Derrick, you guys are cool too,
Though I don't know much about you folks.
If I tried to put the fire out that your music started in my heart...
Well, you know the rest. Guys, you're the best, even if you never reach the top of the charts. (Woo, rhyme stretch!)

You screamed at me once that Glory Fades
But I hope that isn't true for you.
Because honestly guys, this poem can't come close
To how much I care about you.

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot
Tags: brand new, writing, poetry
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Paperweight Fantasies
11/03/09 at 12:24 AM by Matt Chylak
spur of the moment poem writing.

Paperweight Fantasies

I have paperweight fantasies,
Dreams of holding the intangible down.
A motive, a standard, an ideal, an angel
Wrestling with me on the ground.

I have paperweight fantasies,
Visions of stability, strength.
Thrusting my chin into gravity's face
Instead of collapsing against its weight.

I have paperweight fantasies,
Passions of purpose and stone.
Though this labor seems blunt and unfeeling
It rewards my existence alone.

Yes, I have paperweight fantasies,
And these words strive to meet them each day.
I realize I am not yet a rock,
But nor are my feet cast from clay.

goodnight, AP.
Tags: writing, poetry, existence, goals
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Quadrangle Blues
09/22/09 at 08:42 PM by Matt Chylak
walking back from class tonight, was humming a song and decided to sit and write a poem
line or two borrowed from 'daisy' to help me start

quadrangle blues

It's getting hard to stay up,
I think I hear God calling my name.
Red lights o'er the rooftops
Wait on the whir of chopper blades.

And they're calling my name.

Circled stiff by turnstiles,
Boxed by metal, glass, and lawn.
It's strange; This castle prison's
My only buffer left from harm.

The streets are calling my name.

I'm living in a jar and the lid's the sky.
My limbs are feeling restless and I don't know why.
Stretch my muscles to the heavens as I sit outside.

I think I hear God calling my name.
Tags: writing, poetry, music, brand new, daisy, college
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choke a whisper
09/17/09 at 09:36 PM by Matt Chylak
a song i wrote a little while ago.

choke a whisper

i hear whispers in the night. they bite into me like fireflies rising from the back lawn,
their tiny flames burnt out, like i've felt all along.
bite the hand that carried you away. i've done nothing as forward as that.

i fear whispers in the night, pulling me inside the darkness i hide behind,
a child wrestling sleep without doorlight.
bite the hand that carries you away. i've done nothing so forward in my whole life.

and when i feel god looking down on me as i crane my neck to the sky,
i wonder if his touch is just the tense of my muscles against my throat
as i choke a whisper to sing "don't go anywhere, my dear. don't go any..."

why do i only love sad sad songs?
why do i only love sad sad songs?
Tags: writing, poetry, music
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Last Updated: 02/23/13 (54,635 Views)
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