Dramatic Irony - Exeunt.

[b]

Dear People,

Having been hibernating elsewhere, my presense on this forum has been hiding under a fleece of oblivion, under the snowy coat of my Dutch Deltaculture. However, to refresh your impressions of my poetry and elucidate the transformations of my style, I'll present you now some recent anecdotes from the musical collection that I nowadays cherish; the cheesiest ones so to speak.

Probably, as I have succesfully predicted in the past, this post also will bathe in river Lethe, so I already created my precautions for this. To increase this Dramatis Ironae, I also chose one poem about personal love being trampled by a herd of people who cannot understand it, and the transformation of a sweet dream to a nightmare: that of a beautiful, almost Byronically Romantic woman to a witch.

If replies will be prosperous in the intellectual and especially emotional sense of the word, perhaps I'll also share with you the poems that I'm really satisfied about.

Feel,
Bart

===

Ancient Dilemma

And there I stand, now look at me,
Staring into her beloved eyes,
Tasting the smell of blooming feminity,
And hearing the softness of her voice.

Time stops

As my senses are thrust in a world of love,
And my longing soul diffuses the nectar
That flows through the vanes of her breasts,
Seeps through the passionate flowers of lust
That sprout in the gestures of her desire,
The quivering glances that breathe the wish
To be succumbed by all-embracing synthesis.

And there I stand, she looks at me,
Absorbed in mellifluous turmoil,
Already feeling the intensity,
Taking smooth sips of the waves that will come.

But we are not alone.

On the stairs of the theatre,
Where I was going to bend and kiss her hand,
Then lead her through the gardens of her palaces,
Onto the fountain in the middle of the pond,
The marble squares and domes of ivory,
A croud flows to trample those who stop the time,
And extinguish the flames that we arose
To create the heat to melt together.

All those lonely beings, straying flocks,
Empirical abstractions of themselves,
Disrupt the limpid water of our source,
Foul our love and crack her shelves.

Time flows; I have to move
And turn my back upon her face,
I kiss her hand and when she feels my warmth,
The longing imprint of my lips,
I have already disappeared between the waves.

-- January 14th, 2004

===

A Hymn to Sweet River Lethe

Touched by divinity and clearness of mind
I walk through the gardens and woods of my life
As if my breath knows the place that I'll find,
My feet follow footsteps that I can't contrive.

Fair sailor Charon was caught by surprise
As my hunting gestures embarked his fair ship,
Commanded the shepherd to rush through the Styx,
And with endless eternity paid for the trip.

By remembering Hercules, Perseus and Psyche
The purified souls that fed the poor beast,
The three heads of Cerberus just fell asleep
And granted the entrance to my holy feast.

Longing to quench my thirst in the Lethe
I ran through the Limbo, neglected the dead
That wanted to taste from the strength of my quest
And fell down stretching to gaze at my head.

Oblivion seeped trough my quivering hands
As grasping the water that mellows our thoughts,
I darkened the image of my limpid sense,
And plunged into waves of fever and cold:

"O Lethe who dazes the light in our hearts
Please make me forget my sorrows and shame
And cleanse my consciousness, make me discard
Those horrible memories of dullness and pain."

And thus sweet oblivion opened its depths
And greedily swallowed the corpse of my soul,
Surrounded with infinite drops of lead
My ivory eyes, an eternalised whole.

-- January 10th, 2004

===

Vera, or the Nihilists

O beautiful woman who bathes in the sea,
Please raise thy legs and come to me
Thus walk in thy naked virginity
Towars the spot where I long for thee,
Then place thy hands on my knee
And whisper mellifluous music
In my desiring ear:

"Our love is like the coming tides:
In waves of passion we lose ourselves
Until we come back and water abides
For I am the goddess of shelves."

But as she approaches the Venus gets lost
And pace after pace her ivory skin
Turns pale,
The rose red saffron of Dusk and Dawn
That colors her beautiful hairs
Turns swampy green,
Then blooms like snakes
And sprouts on places
Where I cannot see:

The Gorgo is born,
The horrible witch
Of pain and scorn
That stunns the men
Who look at them.

A herd of goats, a satyr's voice,
The baking sun, the freezing winds:
I don't have a mirror to hide my soul!

I close my eyes as she comes to me
And cuts her poisoned nails in my ears
Then screams with all her wretched hate
- Her wrinkled breasts now rub my face,
The stench of death withdraws my fate
And I make no attempt to mate -:

"Ein Üntermensch bist du,
Ein Sklaf, ein Rat,
Ein tote Fisch
Der verdranken ist
Wann Poseidon
Mit dem Kraft des Saturnus
Das Ghetto Altantis
Verschwunden hat."

-- January 11th, 2004:D

[serpico]

A lot of good symbolism . . . but no voice.

[b]

Could you be more specific and personal? It is easy to rape my poetry from an impersonal perspective, so try to say what you really feel or think in a more human way. This is a poetry forum after all!

Have you tried reading out loud? Don't you see all the different meters and musical variations that I embedded... Your remark seems rather empty.

[serpico]

Your poem lacks character. It's difficult to break through the symbolism and feel anything for the poet, he sounds phony. Has anyone ever told you that being too poetic can be a bad thing?

[serpico]

Originally posted by Bartholomeus Bloom
Your remark seems rather empty.

We are all straw dogs.

[b]

Originally posted by serpico
We are all straw dogs.

But what are you?
The literary strawman?

Nihilism is dead, my friend.

But to reply to you in a serious manner: I do believe that my poetry sometimes becomes too delicate and that my own associations are hard to comprehend for other people.

Due to the influence of world literature, I can express certain original, and very personal feelings in a more specific context, in which al these associations come back.

Music is also very important in my poetry, and I unconsciously chose certain ryhtms and sometimes even melodies that are very soundful, ready for pronounciation. When I present my work to a public, this is one of the major things that matters. Saying that it has no voice indicates that the meaning and the associative relations were not comprehended. Can you give me an example of something that does have voice, something that you wrote yourself, perhaps?

And hence the literary strawman fell,
Burned by the hands of the scarecrow.

[serpico]

First off, I'm not your friend. Secondly, whether nihilism is dead or not is irrelevant, the straw dog was a zen teaching. So do me a favor and try not to run ahead next time, ok?

Voice:

So she says to me
"I got these heidelberg scars
cause i couldn't keep the tempo"

And I think she means the
world couldn't keep up and
roughed her up when
it tumbled down on her,

Only my girls all had perfect skin so
it's gotta be this mirror talkin but
where's this girl with the scars I need cause
they all had perfect skin, see,
so I gotta be alone again

And this world is somewhere that
might be behind the mirror, though,
I think there's nothing there but drugs which
would all tumble out if I opened the door

So I think I'd better not run ahead
or maybe next time those scars will be
a little too much more real.

There's more rhythm in that than in your poetry.

[serpico]

I should really watch what I say sometimes.

[b]

Oef, Serpico

This is a poetry forum, MY FRIEND, but this does not mean that we can stigmatize each other's poetry as "dumbass"... Oef. Seems like a good re-entry on this forum for me. And besides: how can you decide on the relvance of my remarks? When a conversation is between two equals, as I hope to believe, you do not make random insults like that. And about that literary strawman: you put the words on my lips, and I'm sure Plato would have loved this.

But again: your own poem. I detect some sort of rap rythms in it, or you seem to create that atmoshpere. However, there are some weird things occuring in it, that decrease that suspicion: how does your rythm relate to your verse endings? (I marked some possible inconsistencies with Italics:)

[And I think she means the
world couldn't keep up and
roughed her up when
it tumbled down on her,]

Are these endings meant to be preceded by short breath pauses? Can you explain to me what Heidelberg means? Is this some sort of metaphor for largeness?

I do not know how you would proclaim this on stage, since there are many possible vocal interpretations of what your wrote, also due to the lack of proper interpunction. I like some of the things in it, - it reminded me to Donni Darko, somehow - especially because it gives me a good impression of your imaginative life. Your stream of consciousness does not touch me as a "pure" creation and is a bit chaotic. However, since I am not at home in the culture that I associated your poem with, I cannot say anything about the quality, nor decide whether it is new-age rapist, or relatively original and intriguing.

Alas, in vain.

[serpico]

The phrase 'Heidelberg scars' was a rhetorical device. There is a university in Germany that specializes in music, the Staatliche Hochschule für Musik und Darstellende Kunst Heidelberg-Mannheim. They have a history of abusing those students who couldn't 'keep tempo'.

[azmuse]

with all relevant respect for your personage, bartholomeus, i feel compelled to bring to your attention the fact that i am unable to elucidate anything pertinent regarding your most recent contribution to this forum; tres unfortunate, but this is based simply and solely on the fact that it was impossible, nay, IMPOSSIBLE to get beyond your pontification and trouble myself with the exercise of erudition necessary to peruse your work.

[b]

Ascetic facists, those Germans appear to be.
Reminds me to a friend of mine, who was muscially raised in Latin America, but had a classical teacher who also tried to force him in the being of music, which is, of course impossible.

He now is one of the greatest jazz pianists that I have played with, and will ever play with.

[serpico]

Hey you!

[b]

I hope I do not insult you, if that was what the "hey" was referring to. It is just a cliché. And besides: in the Netherlands, where I use to live, these prejudices are even more intense.

Eclipse, certainly.

[serpico]

So where do you live now?

[azmuse]

"the vanes of her breast"? are they Perhaps weather vanes? just wondering...

"smooth sips of the waves" -I wanna bottle of aspirin!!!!

[serpico]

You're dealing with two Americans here, Bart. We don't want to have to think too hard.

[b]

Azmuze: I warned you for the cheesiness. It is exactly the point, deliberately amplified.

(I still live in the Netherlands, for most of the year.)

[azmuse]

yeah, keep it all on a low simmer - i'm public school edumacated

[azmuse]

but the ASPIRIN?!
...
...
...
I'm Waiting!!!!

[serpico]

Only fools send their kids to public schools.

[b]

Besides, I'm used to dealing with Americans. I am in an international college in Utrecht.

[azmuse]

so i can expect to see two cocks, ahem, roosters, poking up from her brassiere, then?

[azmuse]

serpico: :p ;)

[b]

Ashmuze, will you stop amuzing yourself above my poetry...

"Self improvement: masturbation; now self desctruction..."
(Tyler Durden in Fight Club)

[serpico]

Heh, I find this conversation gets me titilated and aroused.

[azmuse]

*moves the webcam towards fingers
bartholomeus, you must Admit, if the poetry is cheesy and the intro even more so, you have to let me have my fun
*readjusts the webcam
- to the keyboard: dirty, dirty minds y'all! tsk!

[serpico]

That's my dirty, dirty girl.

[b]

Yes. Cheesiness is the secret of joy. But joy is not the point of the poems. Rather the point is, that poetry and personal experiences get either trampled by the large public, or forgotten by indifferent individuals. What is happening right now?

[serpico]

Considering you're Dutch, you are a pretty adept poet in English.

But do you have to be so aristocratic?

[azmuse]

and would you translate the last lines, or must i call a friend and have her do it/go to a translation sight online/meander around discordant synaptic clefts in brain and come to own conclusion?

[azmuse]

which i'd be Happy! to post for you

[b]

I am not aristocratic - on fiancial aid, so to speak.
I did enjoy an aristocratic edjucation, though, but only because I liked the possiblity to explore the arts, Latin, Italian, etc.

Prententiousness and arrogance are close to that, but do not mistake me with those, please. It is just something on the surface.

[azmuse]

Ein Üntermensch bist du,
a(n) (intermediate) young buck is he - the best
Ein Sklaf, ein Rat,
a slut, a rat
Ein tote Fisch
in his tote a fish
Der verdranken ist
which he brings to drink with his favorite girlfriends
Wann Poseidon
who want not him, but Poseidon
Mit dem Kraft des Saturnus
"my love is given to dark, mysterious men" they whispered seductively
Das Ghetto Altantis
those ghetto girls from Atlantis done got to him already!
Verschwunden hat
they whined, sad Lemurians wearing only hats.

[azmuse]

(don't know how to use quotes - mea culpa)

[serpico]

Some people get really turned off by it though, Bart.

I'll illustrate it with an example. I work at a post office and the people there dress pretty casually. Well, I thought it would be funny to start wearing a tie to work everyday just to fùck with people, you know? It was just a thing on the surface, but I knew it was offensive to some people nevertheless.

[b]

Oh, and besides, Ashmuze:

I once made a presentation about the cave ('grotto')-metaphor in literature and mythology. Besides the exploration of the unknown, the entrance to the underworld and the platonic allegory, it implies SEXUAL CONNOTATIONS. Are you aware of that?

[serpico]

I'm sure she is.

[b]

"Ein Üntermensch bist du,
Ein Sklaf, ein Rat,
Ein tote Fisch
Der verdranken ist
Wann Poseidon
Mit dem Kraft des Saturnus
Das Ghetto Altantis
Verschwunden hat."

A "Lower Creature" art thou,
A slave, a rat,
A dead fish,
That was drowned
When Neptune
The the power of Saturn
Devoured
The ghetto Atlantis. (I think there are some grammar mistakes in the German, but this does not really matter, does it? It is about the sound and the associations.)

[azmuse]

are you aware that the invagination that transpires when cells engage in receptor-mediated endocytosis is NOT sexual? though trillions of them engage in this exquisite frenzy on a constant basis?

[azmuse]

mmm...!!!frenzy...!!!
i liked the sound better untranslated (but thanks)

[b]

I prefer exocytose, but that must be because I look at things from a male perspective. It is all about entering that cave, meeting the moon inside.

Do you remember an old Lord of the Rings movie, with all those fags in pentihoses playing elves? I think, if I were you, I should get rid of that Legolas quote...

[azmuse]

it has nothing to do with the movie; it was my favorite line from all the books from years ago.
though i don't like men in hose, unless they're football jerseys
*dammit, am drooling
speaking of the grotto, i wonder that you missed the "good earth" morsel

[serpico]

Yeah.

[b]

You wonder IF I missed it. I have my associations, but revealing them might be too far-fetched. (Ancient Mythology... DUHHH)

[serpico]

I've got your signature now! I've got your ***!

[b]

What do you mean?

[azmuse]

i like big redwoods; ancient groves need our protection

[serpico]

It's you and me, Bart, forever.

[azmuse]

well, now that you have the nose off his face, i wonder does that make you blood brothers, or if it's between your index and middle finger and you are simply deciding when/if to give it back, in the manner of a trick on a bewildered young'un

[b]

The moon is the female goddess. The sun is male.
Are you a woman?

[azmuse]

yes i know.
yes i am.
and anyone is welcome to steal the secret of the sun or moon.
i have spokane.

[azmuse]

i find it unnecessary info, though, sort of if i were to ask you your nationality etc. this is a forum, after all.

[b]

I hope there are no new-age rapists among us, and that you are limpid enough to reflect my face.

[azmuse]

slightly sickened by thought of girl entering cave, though

[b]

Girls cannot enter caves: that's the point!

[azmuse]

yes. but am too limpid to reflect anything smaller than Lake Victoria.

[azmuse]

yerch! *backs away in fright*

[b]

I need a source, free from obscurity
And silver-faced with smooth and shiny waves,
That neither shepherds, nor the goats that grazed
Upon the mount, nor other flocks had touched;
That neither flying animals, nor beasts
Disturbed, nor single twigs sliding from trees.

[b]

Do you know what EXEUNT means...

"THEY LEAVE!"

[serpico]

You and me, Bart . . . you and me.

[b]

What are you telling me?
Is this the revelation of the cosmic twin?

[serpico]

I'm your doppelganger

[b]

Sorry, mate,
But I alreay have one.

Please stop this, or make it more literary by explaning why. I hope you are not a new-age rapist, desperately looking for connections where there aren't any to fulfil his existential vacuum.

[serpico]

I'm just here killin' time like everyone else.

[b]

I am not here to kill time. I am here to stop time, to explore.

[serpico]

Fine, we'll beat time instead.

Rough him up a bit.

[b]

To beat Father Chronos,
Who devours even his own children?

[den]

Ahhh, Bart's back! great to see you again ;)

[b]

"Insgelijks, Dear Den :D", as I would say in Dutch: "same here!"

[Helga]

I have to say that I can't agree with the posts about your poetry that are negative. I may not be an experienced writer or critic but I know what I want from poetry and I get that in these poems.
there are many metaphors but I think that can show just as much feeling and emotions in poetry as anything else.

And on a personal note I want to thank the author, I was reading the love poetry forum and now I´ve read all I could find by Dante.

[azmuse]

Hear, hear! For Bart and his metaphors, as sweet to a damsel's ears as her beloved's stricken, impassioned entreaties.

Hi Helga ;)

[azmuse]

Hey Bart, wanna have a bad metaphor challenge? :D

[Kinch]

Bart doesn't appreciate criticism from anyone who isn't an experienced writer or critic . . . unless, of course, you're saying something nice about his poetry, then he's known to bend the rules.

[Koa]

I am a bit lost in this conversation, and I have read the poems only quickly cos I'm always busy these days and I tend to look for quantity rather than quality...I read everything, with not as much attention as I should :D (yeah, bad superficial girl :D))

Well my first reaction towards the poem was of anger, or rather envy... I wish i could write that way... Well, it wasn't clear, but it seems to show that the writer *knows* what to say and how, and what we see is exactly what he wanted. It shows he knows how to do his 'job', it shows security of his means. Maybe yes, almost unconscioulsy pretentious.

One thing I want to note, Bart: I have a feeling they called you 'aristocratic', because of the way you 'speak'... to me it sounds so very formal, not everyday speech... In the poetry too, I find your poetry 'high', but I'm sure that's a choice (that's what can make it appear pretentious I guess...). Well, I don't have a point in this, I just noticed that you seem to often express yourself not with the most common language... Just a remark, might be a wrong impression, and I don't mean to judge or anything...just a feeling...

[Polydeuces]

I would agree that criticism to the writer, negative as it per definition is, should at least contain an explanation of the points of critique.

But what, do you think, is the purpose of this forum? What literary goals can be acchieved by means of it? Is it the improvement of style? Is it the anonymous showoff for beginning writers, hence the less dangerous confrontation with the public? What do people learn from this?

This forum, for me, would be a possiblity to exchange poetry, to experience poetry from an individual perspective, to compare styles and to strengthen the own poetical lexicon.

Reading through a lot of already posted messages, I strongly get the impression that most people on this forum are just here to kill time, to drink away their loneliness. To drink away their drunkness, as it has become througout the months of the life of this forum. I am intrigued by some of you, by the interesting associative discussions that flow from poetical exchange, the shared haiku-post. But I am disappointed in the intensity of replies that people give to other people's poetry, however: I do not blame you for that. This medium of communication is not suited for that, and besides: for some, less gifted people, it is hard to explain emotions and associations, it is hard to confess and reveal ambiguity.

The real strenght of this forum would be joined creations, where people write poetry, perhaphs even proze, together. The Haiku post of den is an example of that, but I think that the rules limit the expressions and that it is not about the meaning. Perhaps a larger project can be started, where we can first experiment a bit and get used to each other, then write something worthy. I also discovered that many of you do not include music in poetry, so that would also be a point of improvement. Stupid rivalry and the conformation of social concepts on this forum in a real sense of the world would be disgusting, and I think that most of you do not have people to share poetic experiences with in daily life. I do, as a matter of fact, but I think that this way of communication can be interesting as well.

Filthyness and narrow-mindedness has to be get rid of first, then, after a little purgatory, a fresh interaction can be started, where only the people with real interests in poetry will participate in.

If it appears that such an ambitious thing is not possible, you will not see me here on this forum anymore, nor any other Romanticists.

[star blue]

is this a petition?

[Koa]

Uhm... I'm here both to kill time and to share experiences. I like to exchange ideas this way, but I'm not sure I'd like the idea of collaborations... I'm incostant enough when I have to deal just with myself ;)

I dont understand what you mean by disappointed by the intensity of replies... Too many? Too shallow? Not enough? I don't comment on all the poetry I see because sometimes I have nothing to say besides 'I like it'...just becasue some things are instinctive and/or hard to elaborate, as you pointed out yourself...

What do we get from here... Well yes, to me it can be soem sort of show-off, I've never managed to show or mention my poetry to real-life friends, and I like this anonymous means. It's also a way to confront with other people's work, which makes me want to try harder and be as good, in my own way of course.

I think I am a Romanticist when it's about poetry, but I hang aorund here quite a lot ;) (and I do think of music as poetry, but I dont think it matters...some people don't, I can't understand why but it's just one of the many different approaches.)

[star blue]

is he petitioning?

[Koa]

Originally posted by Bartholomeus Bloom
"Ein Üntermensch bist du,
Ein Sklaf, ein Rat,
Ein tote Fisch
Der verdranken ist
Wann Poseidon
Mit dem Kraft des Saturnus
Das Ghetto Altantis
Verschwunden hat."

A "Lower Creature" art thou,
A slave, a rat,
A dead fish,
That was drowned
When Neptune
The the power of Saturn
Devoured
The ghetto Atlantis. (I think there are some grammar mistakes in the German, but this does not really matter, does it? It is about the sound and the associations.)

Ahem...can I say i disagree? I'd hate any of my works to have grammar mistakes... Of course you're free to do what you want with yours, and if sounds matters to you more than grammar, go ahead... But from my point of view it's not the best thing...For example, a German reading it would maybe find it a bit 'silly', like it kinda ruins the serious atmosphere of the whole poem... Just my thought.

[star blue]

get him the hell outta here!