Read Any Good Books Lately?

•February 1, 2009 • Leave a Comment

I like writing that pulls me in so hard and far that I get lost and have to climb my way out wondering what day it is and what I forgot to do. I like writing that eases me forward, throws me back, carries me to the top of the roller coaster and suspends me there for a moment before catapulting me back down, screaming, hanging on for dear life. I like writing that washes down over me like a warm spring rain from heaven and growls and gurgles up from the depths of hell. I want the intrigue of a Rubik’s cube that – in the end – pulls itself together in such a way that I have to take it all apart again to find out what happened and how. I want writing to chew on like a blue rare steak and for dessert – slides down my throat like silky warm fudge sauce with whipped cream. I want writing to surround me like a warm bath, then, pull the blankets up around my shoulders, tuck me in and sing me to sleep.

Maraya Loza Koxahn

Story Seeking

•January 26, 2009 • Leave a Comment

This came out of a writing exercise. Choose to work with a quote that you have memorized. Choose a title – before or after you write it. Write for about 10 minutes on what this quote means to you and how it might apply to others.

Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story

Story Seeking

As a truth-seeker I know that ‘the truth’ can only ever be sought and never found. I’ve realized that the best one can do is to tell a good story. In an effort to tell that story one begins with something resembling the truth as they know it and begins to weave in the imaginings of a demented mind.

We are a tribe that grew up on stories. We hunger for them still – never sated. We yearn to be moved by words, by the actions, thoughts and worlds of others – ‘real’ or imagined.

There is no one ‘truth’. There is only mine and yours, ours and theirs. Many realities, many perceptions, many stories. So, although I thought I had to know’ to write – I don’t. I only have to string the words together in an electrifying fashion (and not profess them to be true).

I don’t want what I think I need to know get in the way of telling a good story. So, don’t get stuck in what you think you know to be true. The truth is – you don’t ‘know’. Just tell your story.

Maraya Loza Koxahn

Cry of the Poet

•January 21, 2009 • Leave a Comment

If I put these words to music
would you listen
to my lyrical seduction?

If I make them rhyme
would you take the the time
to comprehend my meaning?

If I use a word
you’ve never heard
could I ignite your curiosity,
fuel your expansion?
Would you turn to Webster
Or would you walk away?

If I serve them a a metaphor
would you peer through the facade
into the depths that dwell in me
or would you think me odd?

If I produce a hit,
strike a chord in you,
would you resonate
with my inner vibration?
Seek personal salvation?
Perhaps together we’ll save a nation?

I take a stand upon this page
potentially, your teacher, prophet, sage
filled with passion
love and rage
and supplicate to you:
A poet’s is a lonely life
so much to share
and few to hear the words

When I’m gone think of me
naked on this page
and you can say you
‘knew me when . . . ‘
but know me now –
Engage

Maraya Loza Koxahn

from Metamorphosis of a Narcissist

Poetry Is Dead. Long Live Poetry!

•January 20, 2009 • Leave a Comment

This poem is unexecutable!

Words are stuck in the web
of my grey matter
prisoners in this writer’s blockhead
unable to leap the chasm
between axon and dendrite

Maybe a coffee enema
will relieve the constipation
restore the situation
to a modicum of mediocrity
and I’ll appear erudite

I’d line those soldiers up
march them to a hyperbolic beat
but they’d fall back
unable to maintain rhythm
weary of regurgitation
People talk too much, they’d say
anxious to establish significance
used and used and silenced
so confused

Don’t believe a word I say
for I have been incarcerated far too long
with all the other vowels
warm wind whistles through our jowls
so much hot air blown here and there
bouncing off the backs of consonants
landing freely where we will
lack of discipline opens up
so many other possibilities

Rhythm method having failed
this poem is inconceivable!

So, without the seed of just one letter
planted in my pen
this poem will never see the light of day
this poem will never have a life
no matter what I say
and for the deed of having lied
I fear this poem will never die
It will only fade away.

Maraya Loza Koxahn
from Metamorphosis of a Narcissist