|fuck the poets
fuck the poets,
from cigarette ash,
arching backs in
spasms of caffeine,
howling open mouthed into
blank verse afternoons.
the quiet dries up their art yet still they cry
since the audience paid
to see salt stains.
make a fist, for
you are a wild hue.
rip bark from trunks,
expose green newness
to air like
a fresh burn
an encounter late at night;
blood or booze or kinked fingers,
we cannot tell, we do not care.
i want you
to burn shit but
pay the colors no mind.
observe without agenda.
do not write
just to feel more alive
than white word docs
uninked legal pads.
do not write at all.
will the world ever recall
the glutted lines,
scattered like liquor shards
face turned up in judgment and
bathed in neon familiarity
admit? it is lost on us.
23 Jun 10
Rated 6.3 (8.7) by 3 users.
Active (3): 10
Inactive (21): 1, 1, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
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i stumbled over 'universality' and almost didn't read - but i am so glad i kept on -
make a fist, for
you are a wild hue. (Oh Man, I get goosebumps when i read that line)
we cannot tell, we do not care. (again! wanna get married?)
but lines 23 - 26 are my favourites.
thanks for the read,
This is passionate without a doubt.
Could use a bit of cleaning up in places to strengthen it.
L2--I too, stumbled over "universality"--maybe "singularity" instead? Works better sonically with "cigarette."
L13-15 are a tiny bit creepy...
L18 and L19--both end with "like"--has a Valley girl tone. You could drop both of them.
L29-31 seem like filler, much stronger to end the stanza on L28.
L32-34 are excellent--my favorite part of this.
thank you, thank you for the advice!
sybarite- i think i like 'singularity' better, too. i'll try it out, thanks.
pollyreg- i'm glad i was able to give you goosebumps :)
Extremely minor nits to this excellent work:
line 2: move "from" to line 3 to strengthen the vision of carving singularity
line 14: drop "the" to strengthen overall
line 17: change exposing to expose
line 18: drop "the" to strengthen overall
line 37: there should be but one "e" in judgment
Seek publication of this work
a meta-poement where woe met in a frisson of being alive equipoised on a sun-rise :)
m, almost "too much" if u know what'i mean, but still very good, a really enjoyable read :)
Hey, if you're gonna plagiarize me, at least give me some credit.
"i am jack's smirking revenge"
published: 3 May 10
make a fist. 9
make love 10
at bus stops 11
and let 12
the children 13
That's what I say........FUCK YOU POET!!!!
GOD THAT FELT GOOD!
Very good indeed, and singularity is much better than universality, it scans better. This is my first comment. Thanks for your poem.
Thanks for removing that. You didn't have to, really.
"make a fist, for
you are a wild hue."
You made the sentiment much better than I could. I think this a fantastic piece.
"he's makin' a fist,
flexin' it twice --
gonna find out who's
up with his wife..."
this whole poem is a rant on poets for being judemental and arrogant, but the speaker is being the most judgemental and arrogant. hypocritical really, and i feel like the author is unaware of this
umm, i think the author of this is saying that he's being truthful with his own poems and that the best poets are all truthful, but that some poets get sidetracked into needing new cars, and that makes them start thinking everyone has a personal MPG rating and duty to him to not be polluting...? -- if you get my image. people use ordinary language, like what we're using now, here, to gain things. trying to write poetry in truthful ordinary language just turns the reader into a consumer. that's the joke about this poem: that it's not about poets at all.
i get that, its just not a good joke. not good writing.
it's also a straight rip-off
it's fucking good is what it is.
It's plagarised. Shit eh??????
If that link does not work just try dionysus
unk is right, it is a rip off
WHO ARE YOU TO SAY WHAT POETRY IS OR IS NOT!!!
who are you to say what is poetry?
your first line is really poor : it's way too easy to write.
i think the same for the last two stanzas.
"spasm of caffeine" doesn't seem to mean much.
the run-on-line effect ol lines 14-15 doesn't seem justified either for style or meaning...
the first stanza is quite strong and i felt it was well observed as their are poets who come across conceited and arrogant. I think it went on a bit as from line 29 it started to make me feel your points were becoming labored.
Otherwise pretty decent.
Reads like slam poetry, smells like cigarettes, very whatever.
Good work, I suppose.
too wordily pompous and sitting in judgement like a dark cloud hanging over a field of manure
i really doubt that anyone who's commented on this really has read it as a beat poetry -- allen ginsberg poetry -- and as an exercise or experiment in writing direct melodic poetry. it falls out only because it's too vague -- no 'gasoline trucks' or attacks on brand named consumer products and attitudes, but it's crafted out. 'carved from cigarette ash' should have clued the poet in the reader that something else was going on than just talking like a blabbering cell-phone drone.
"i really doubt that anyone who's commented on this really has read it as a beat poetry "
Then you'd be wrong ...again.
so, you agree, then, that it's like ginsberg as though he'd never met kerouac or snyder or corso? that's interesting. what else do you notice in this poem that might help us understand it?
LOVE this! Reminds me of Mary Oliver's "Why I Wake Early." Very, very eloquently written and with so much fuckin' flava! xo
I think this might read better if line 35 had a comma and line 36 placed the question mark at the end.
"what else do you notice in this poem that might help us understand it?"
Mike, you have not earned the privilege of asking me questions about what I think, or anything else at all :)
you're worthless as a commentator, but by asking you these questions here, if functions rhetorically to show the readers that such questions can and should be asked. you're allowing yourself to be used by me to teach a certain poetry aesthetic, and it's for the site, so that's something you might feel proud of. if you want to be a player, comment defending your own aesthetic and how that aesthetic is revealed or occluded in this poem.
"you're worthless as a commentator"
No I'm not :)
"but by asking you these questions here, if functions rhetorically to show the readers that such questions can and should be asked."
No it doesn't.
"you're allowing yourself to be used by me"
No I'm not.
"if you want to be a player, comment defending your own aesthetic"
Mike, you do not set the pace, nor direction of my presence here on this site, and you certainly do not have any place setting the conditions for any interaction or response.
actually, i am setting your pace, and watching you stumble over these new ideas, for you, of helping the writer instead of trying to win friends, people learn. thanks.
"actually, i am setting your pace!
Actually, not you're not, and here's more proof.
"and watching you stumble over these new ideas, for you, of helping the writer instead of trying to win friends, people learn. thanks."
You really do talk out of your arse, Mike :)
if that's where your nose is, then i supposed you'd hear it coming from there.
"if that's where your nose is, then i supposed you'd hear it coming from there."
No, it's just that you talk shit. So your arse is your mouth, and your mouth your arse. :)
to bmikebauer and jharrison:
i understand that hand-to-hand combat can be fun at PC, but this is getting ridiculous, wouldn't you say? if you two have nothing constructive to offer, then i kindly ask you to take your tiff elsewhere. maybe a discussion post? that's what they're there for: personal conversations and interactions. this really isn't the place.
if you continue this, i will delete this poem, which i'd really rather not do. i like PC because it allows me to screen poems to a wide and diverse audience. that is not what you two have been doing as of the past few days. this is entirely parasitic and not at all helpful to me or anyone else.
Indeed, fallenl, and I do apologise for such intrusion.. and there is a but .. the but is .. Mike needs controlling .. forgive me for it spilling into your poetic space.
listen, leaf, i don't think you're reading the comments, or, if you are, then you're not getting that i'm talking about you and your poem. harry is talking about me, and i'm responding so that you'll have a clue about how to read and understand poetry. if you can't get the part i wrote about this being neo-beat, then you're an idiot. idiots may hack out a poem from an unconscious reading of stuff in school, but they don't construct anything of their own. tell harrison to stop trolling on me and actually talk about your poem -- she hasn't said anything about your poem, and i have. wake up.
No. Now fuck off, like the troll you are :)
Yes leaf, you must respect Mike, you must listen to him, you must obey him.
He has given you something and is now demanding something in return for what he gave.
You owe him :)
believe her. she is the next ruler of north korea.
"believe her. she is the next ruler of north korea"
That's right, Mike. You just wish you were :)
strong medicine. (that is a compliment)
Of Course, You Are Right
Time does not go by, and just yesterday
this advice was on my table,
my morning breakfast table,
the withering noon suns, the evening
stars coming through my windows,
the rain in my dreams.
I still want to believe words full of fist,
determination, the power you always
injected in my anemic spirit you never ceased
to see as some sort of spinning star
lost in another galaxy - your own reflection
and why you were so adamant in support
which in turn was a way of self-preservation.
And I want "to bury shit" too, and "pay the colors no mind"
but this poem alone won't do to cheer me on.
Where have you gone,
what did I do, or did not do, that you hide
behind books you never read and read the junk I write
since there is no water fountain,
the trees have lost their clichéd limbs.
And I do. I still "rip the bark from trunks" but quietly
hide behind the widest tree to let leaves (almost as fresh as yesterday) fall
to light my skin reminding me that we still exist
despite this unbearable distance, each season’s wedge
in between every spinal disk now filled of stagnant dry air.
But nails bleed as I paint each picture to purposely deface
all that might be truth.
At day’s end, advice pans out your wish:
there is no fountain pen, without a wrinkle, I age
the way a paper fades or is filled with must
impossible to breathe - a tombstone shut and locked
lost only to myself. A waste of golden hair.
Really like it. Thanks. x
riverjay, are you the same person as fallenleaf?
Nope, this is my only account.
unknown, i wish i knew you
about seven unknowns?
the one with the "reaction".
the one with the "reaction".
— _fallenleaf [!]
That would be myself. I interpreted your poem as directing itself to someone right from the title. Immediately, as a reader, it was directed to me, and it grabbed me - thus, the reaction. Conceited of me, eh? But, this is one of the ways in which I 'get into' a poem.
The Fading Ink
I will not do it again, if this bothered you. It is an impulse on my part, but I know some seem to take it as being offensive, which I would understand if the response were to make no reference at all to the poem posted. But, in any case, just tell me, and it will not happen again.
what! no, i think response poems are fabulous! i love that you were able to 'get into' this. you're very talented! i thank you.
Should I react to every one of your poems, then? I am just kidding.
It is sad when creative impulse is thwarted, so, I am very thankful for your words of encouragement.
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And who the fuck are you?
Face turned down like a Charlie brown after missing a field goal??
who the fuck are you?
You stand tall when everything falls?