“If they give you lined paper
write the other way.”
Wm Carlos Williams
And if they offer you
the sun, the moon and the stars,
ask for a biscuit instead.
“Yes, a plain, dry biscuit, please.
And thank you very much...”
“If they give you lined paper
write the other way.”
Wm Carlos Williams
And if they offer you
the sun, the moon and the stars,
ask for a biscuit instead.
“Yes, a plain, dry biscuit, please.
And thank you very much...”
I suppose it might confound them. Not perhaps the same level of rebelliousness encouraged by WCW's lines - but with a certain humour nevertheless.
H
Interesting little thing.
I saw this as mocking the WCW rebellion-for-the-sake-of-rebellion quote. I may be off.
Hillwalker:
I wasn't out to compete with WCW's advice; mine is more re the multiple efforts on the parts of various agencies to buy our good-will, so really I think there's a fair amount of rebellion intended in itI suppose it might confound them. Not perhaps the same level of rebelliousness encouraged by WCW's lines - but with a certain humour nevertheless.
Not at all my intention! (See above). I whole-heartedly endorse the WCW quote.
Thanks to both of you.
It feels good to go against the grain, I really like the attitude you instill in this little poem.
"But do you really, seriously, Major Scobie," Dr. Sykes asked, "believe in hell?"
"In flames and torment?""Oh, yes, I do."
"That sort of hell wouldn't worry me," Fellowes said."Perhaps not quite that. They tell us it may be a permanent sense of loss."
"Perhaps you've never lost anything of importance," Scobie said.
lol - When life gives you lemons, insist on coffee?
Before sunlight can shine through a window, the blinds must be raised - American Proverb
v. snicker
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
Thanks Haunted, Delta and Stately.
My thought was that if anyone offers you something outrageous or that they couldn't possibly deliver, they have improper designs on you.
I heard once of a pawnbroker in an impoverished area of San Francisco who had a sign in his storefront window
Souls bought & sold
People would come in, desperate for money. He'd present them with a document, by virtue of which they signed their soul over to him and, once they had signed it, he would advance them something like $25.00
He counted on the fact that enough of these would later be so freaked out that they would somehow collect the $40.00 or $50.00 required to buy back their souls.
I doubt he made any money. But its a good yarn But just incase there are any disappointed young ladies reading I have virginity for sale here at 20 Quid a go.
For those who believe,
no explanation is necessary.
For those who do not,
none will suffice.
The inspiration for my poem was the short story by Y.L. Peretz, "Bontche Shveig" (Bontche the silent) in which, after Bontche dies, the interrogating angel offers him any reward he might wish for a life lived in abject, uncomplaining poverty. After reflecting for a while, Bontche asks:
"Anything?"
"Yes, anything," the angel replies.
"Well, in that case," Bontche says after some more reflection, "could I have a hot buttered roll?"
(Which, if I remember correctly, brings tears to the angel's eyes.)
I've read a number of your thoughts and poems here, Prince, and chose this, for its irresistible power of resistance to all that's accepted and just for the sake of it. Love what you write and love plunging into your intellectual mind. Your concision is often breathtaking and your contents always encourage a new way of approaching this or another reality. I'm not a great poet, even less a critic, but wanted to comment anyway. Thanks a lot.
I flatter myself at times that I write principally for myself, to exercise my soul, as it were, but comments such as yours tell me that the preceding isn't entirely true: that I write in part for myself but in equal measure to make the sort of connection that I have made with you... Thanks. A lot.
I have read your explanation of this poem, but I'm going to give you my initial impressions anyhow. This poem spoke to me of meekness; it implied that the narrator didn't feel himself worthy of what life offered him, so he settled for much less. The ending line seemed to grovel a bit, as though the narrator didn't feel he deserved even a dry biscuit.
Again, I read your footnotes, but that's how I initially interpreted this poem.
Thank you for this astute and candid reading of my poem, a reading that shocked me into examining the politics of my subconscious. I began the poem in a spirit of delight at the stubborn rebelliousness of the Wm Carlos Williams quote and I believe, in retrospect, that I intended to continue in that anti-authoritarian mode. And yet somehow in the depth between conscious and subconscious, open rebellion got changed into shrewd negotiation. Authority was perceived not so much as trying to compel one as to bribe one, and the response I advocated was not to refuse them outright, but to offer to accept a lesser bribe, such that they might not feel they had bought one outright.
In doing so I feel I aligned myself with those Jews who went like lambs to the slaughter in the WWII concentration camps!