|postmodern irony of iconic & generic
isn't it something pertaining to Fe [iron]?
or [solid] iron with a 'whY is it empty & spacious?'?
or a word with an iron [c]ore & an orbiting 'y'
which makes it yiron [urine] half the time?
dude, you should see those guys
getting high up on a rock. they'd stone
you & you'd stone them back,
as in a loop. i once tried to burn a pot.
thought it was a book.
i dunno what this is, so help me gawd...
thanks for your interesting threads, Cerulise.
15 Sep 10
Rated 5.5 (7) by 2 users.
Inactive (1): 1, 10, 10
(define the words in this poem)
(204 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
you wasically wabbit.
reads to me like you're trying to find a new voice and it's not coming easy. i think you're getting into it at line five on. maybe rearranging that last stanza? like, start with 'they'd stone you & you'd stone them back'... which is a good comment at dylan, anyway, with all his 'they'll stone you...', and him getting back at them by putting them in the funny papers...
gneiss suggestion, mike.
people take things for granite.
yeah, most likely, and this isn't about crack at all
nor getting high on it.
natural is as scarce as natural can be.
it's always about choice and what's out there, no matter what the content fills the poem with. and, a fun thing like this should go more out there so that the choice is removed from news-at-eleven graphics to some kind of plastic space, where time has flavors.
the magic of words, sounds, and how they're arranged, huh?
and their connotations? and utility? that is crack enough for
i wonder how a plumber would read this.
or dylan or bob marley...
you know, i don't really want to only live in a world of style, but sometimes the reality of poetry is that it's this musical wording of images -- poetical writing -- and i suspect that the message is so small in a poem that it's really only a slogan? like, how detailed can this line-break thing spoken in arty tones, matter what, because it's not conversation and has a beginning and end based on aesthetic certainty -- no matter what kind of aesthetic, since the author knows what's going to work and what's not. and, going out into the vision is maybe more that we get into that mood and mode and ride off into another dimension? and, bringing back what we hear and see there is natural when we just report we've been there, but meaningless in saying what was there. and, magical when we describe the spaces between the names and how they reflect on the things named... imagist and evocative. but, also there's the expressionist move, where you project what you felt about the experience and how that experience is less than the experience of now for you. exaggerating what's written so that it shocks the reader into the kind of shock you felt, and then controlling the shocked reader and showing them how it all could be if things were different, good and bad.
thank you as always, mike.
you got it down to a T there. who was that mighty old and great
weaver of words you mentioned once? the one who you said was
all about the musicality of the writing? what you just wrote is just
so beautiful in itself that it works as a poem for me.
smile... i just woke up and had to read what i wrote twice before it sounded written... and, i can't remember that one you mention... cripes... would think of Donne or Dante... not to mention Yeats... but, really, i had to make a poetry for myself anyway, one which moved as i wanted it to. my teacher ( music comp ) once told me that thing where, if you don't want to re-write what you hear then you're not a composer. that's not as extreme as it sounds, though, because it means you first absolutely hear the music from your heart, and most every music is perfect because of that... almost perfect... but, that's the moment.
i think what most every author does here is absolutely real, but not yet as real as the author. i think that art is when you write outside your expectations and your work becomes you... you define your self and conscious realities by the act it self, just as you define your physical or mental self separately by living and thinking...? that, through the invention of a image and the invention of a dance of images you invent a world stage for yourself as actor... the voice you use has a world to speak in? and, that your physical self is redeemed, made certain for you because you have a way of reflecting and being with the world?
but, that's any kind of truth -- a player on a court or on a chessboard finds that too... any interactivity with others, where you have to depend and reflect what others are doing and initiate action. what do artists do? one thing we know is that there's a world of artists and we want to be with them in any way we can.
and, people have pretty box-in expectations when they're starting out. how's it go?... you made something and affect it with your psyche, your being, and you want that reflected back at you in the work itself and by other people's reaction to it...? the authenticating 'you're real'? everyone wants that.
i think it's that our reality is so much more complicated than anyone knows... more than theories of personality and culture and lists of writers and artists who worked in the same style can ever explain. i think your writing becomes your own when you stop carrying your language and let it carry you...? that's obvious for poetry.
the question is, what is your language? even your english is your own hearing of it and your selection of what to use of it. that's why 'inventing' is the first step after mimic, and why what you're doing reflects the real move in poetry, the step all the talented writers here have and work from. for you, it seems to work as a calling out of the world the things which buzz and glow, and you use them, like in this poem, to give what you love, because of who you love, and you love her and the world because of your love: you write that out in your music. isn't that how poetry starts?
isn't it how it works for everyone else here?
isn't poetry/art the soul/spirit/consciousness made manifest?
at least that's how i view it; that's how it is for me.
most, yes, but consciousness is a box and not an infinity: it's constructed by you, and what you see in the world is what you can see. that's the point of expanding consciousness, yes, but, if the world is plastic than all our delights are mutable and capable of being shaped by us into a better actuality. so, the tree is green, but you can call it 'diamond' because it has no boundary, and fold it back inside -- make the squirrel devour the oak inside the acorn: displace habit.
but, sometimes it's just to break out of familiarity and go someplace where nothing and no one's got a name yet.
but, i don't feel people should do that until they're ejected out of habit. that's a scary thing, being on your own and not knowing what anything is supposed to feel like.
i enjoyed reading comments below.
chocolate's in the box i know you'll take another
cerulise, gone dipped them cherries in xylene, oh doctissimo!