Codependent Collegian

Greenbriar, stymied

(Tallahassee, FL) Florida State University sophomore Derrick Greenbriar, a creative writing major, admitted to reporters that his poetic efforts have lately been "majorly shut down" by his almost obsessive focus on street slang.

"Part of this, no doubt, comes from listening to rap and hip-hop, but there's something really versatile about the word 'ho,'" Greenbriar insisted. "I mean it can rhyme with words like 'shore' and 'flow' and even a word like 'cold,' if you mumble a little. Still, most poetry professors - especially the women - aren't too keen on 'ho' showing up in my poems."

Greenbriar said that the word "gay" also keeps popping in his head.

"Besides the fact that it's a one-syllable word with hundreds of possible perfect rhymes, the word 'gay' also has a ton of different connotations," he argued. "Like, it could be used for 'happy' or 'carefree' or 'stupid' or like, well, dudes who like to take a sausage up the ass and whatnot. It's like the poet's best word friend, except for 'a-i-i-i-e-e-e-e-t,' which you can stick just about anywhere in a poem."

Labels: Florida State University, FSU, poetry

A Codependent Collegian Poetry Feature
By Markus Trufant, Boston College Class of 2011

Trufant: The Keats of the College Crush?

World, for too long I’ve pined in secret longing for Stacey James, the most bodacious hottie on campus. But no more shall I remain silent, jacking my raw Excalibur to pixilated camera phone pics that I’ve stealthily taken of her walking across the quad.

Today I broadcast my soul’s deepest desire to the cosmos and cast myself at fate’s altar, as this poem is the only way to adequately express my love.

To wit:

Stacey, bodacious Stacey
my loins quake at the very sight
of your ribbed halter top, and I must
penetrate your darkness
with my Excalibur.

Excalibur, countless nights
we’ve unsheathed for duty’s call
while you’ve partied off-campus
with that douche-bag Brent Harrison
and all those Sigma dudes who only want
your body, not your inner wonder.

I would bathe you in kisses, tears
and the mercury of my gonads
if only you’d return my earth-shattering
gaze, my look of adoration,
the splendor splendor splendor
of my aching want.

This hour until my last, Stacey Jacobs
this body, heart, and mind are yours,
every fibrous atom of my being
just to feel your wan, genteel hand
sliding warmly down my pants.

Labels: love poetry, poetry

a lyrical moment
by kyle restivo,
codependent collegian poet-in-residence

This is part of a continuing series devoted to poetic discourse and bringing elegiac elegance to the Codependent Collegian's faithful audience. Join us in the celebration of rhyme, whimsy, and lyricism!


My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of bad beer I had drunk,
Or emptied some long-chowed tacos to the drains
One minute past, and mine shit-load had sunk:
'Tis not through puking in near parking lot,
But being too turgid in thine massiveness,
That thou, heavy-laid log of my gut,
In some melodious plot
Of rusty trailers, and shadows numberless,
Singest thou of summer like a goat in randy rut.

Forlorn! the very word is like Taco Bell
To toll me back from my beloved lump toward my toilet shelf!
Adieu! the turd treated me so well
As it is meant to do, relieving myself.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive odor fades
Past the near window, over the neighbor's roof,
Down the sewer-pipe; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, my dreams remain aloof?
Fled is that aroma: Lay me on the floor in an exhausted heap.

Labels: lyricism, poetry, turd

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Left: Kylie Greenbeck - the next Sylvia Plath?

(Baltimore)—Janis Greenbeck, Administrative Assistant for the English Department at Johns Hopkins University, continues to send unwarranted bulk emails of her daughter’s poetry to faculty members despite repeated requests for her to desist.

The conflict, according to sources contacted by the Codependent Collegian, stems from Greenbeck’s unrealistic hope that her daughter Kylie, 13, will land a prestigious publishing deal with the help of a sympathetic professor.

And while Greenbeck is unwavering in her enthusiastic support of Kylie’s literary aspirations, JHU’s English faculty are nearing their boiling point.

“I spent a week down on the Carolina coast, and came back to find my inbox teeming with this unreadable pre-teen verse,” huffed Dr. Jon Vichy, an expert in British Romanticism. “We used to joke about this crap during our department meetings, but it’s not funny anymore. Her daughter needs some counseling and a thesaurus — in that order.”

Left: Greenbeck "just wants the best" for her young poet

Despite constant criticism, Greenbeck believes her daughter has undeniable talent.

“Kylie has a poet’s perspective on life, and her words are pure music,” Greenbeck proudly asserted before quoting the following lines from Kylie’s piece entitled “Witness”:

I am the lost child of hell
suffering, dying alone
praying to oblivion,
a lake of fire, your lips,
touch the blank canvas of my thigh.

Greenbeck paused before adding, tearfully: “If that isn’t poetry, sir, I don’t know what is.”

Labels: English literature, Johns Hopkins, poetry