You Better Get Used To It

[E.A Rumfield]

I try not to think too much
they say it's bad for you
so I sit around smoking rolled cigarettes
and reading several books at a time

I don't write unless I am inspired to
and I don't go out often, because
usually there is nothing to do,
and sometimes, peoples company
bothers me more than solitude
so I learned to make a friend
out of the four walls

you are going to be around
yourself for the rest of your life

so

you

better

get used to it

Anyway
there are
worse things
than being alone
and the sooner you learn that the better

but sometimes the four walls
start to stare back
and close in
and when that happens
I like to think of all the beautiful things

like an evergreen forest
after the first snowfall
with a pair of footprints
leading to a lonely frozen lake

or

my insomnia
as you sleep, peacefully next to me
with your hair fanned across the sheets,
an ode to randomness

And even though you're gone now
your smell remains,
for now at least
though I don't miss you
like I don't miss that scab
I picked off this
morning
but sometimes I think of you.
I light a cigarette
and write one more line
as
the
walls
close
in

[Hawkman]

I'm afraid this really doesn't read like a poem, more a blog or a diary entry. It's good prose with some nice humour though.

Live and be well - H

[Alexander III]

I don't write unless I am inspired to
and I don't go out often, because
usually there is nothing to do,
and sometimes, peoples company
bothers me more than solitude
so I learned to make a friend
out of the four walls


"Human understanding is marvellously enlightened by daily conversation with men, for we are, otherwise, compressed and heaped up in ourselves, and have our sight limited to the length of our own noses." -Michel de Montaigne

It is good advice for any writer, because while ones own nose may be fascinating to them the rest of the world finds it quite boring. I am not belittling you, just giving some advice which will help with your poetry.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

I must agree with Hawkman. As is a very common problem among contemporary poets (those of LitNet definitely not excluded) this just seems like prose broken up with odd line breaks. I think it's mostly a problem with the first two stanzas. I think the last two stanzas are quite good, though.

[Emil Miller]

I try not to think too much
they say it's bad for you
so I sit around smoking rolled cigarettes
and reading several books at a time

I don't write unless I am inspired to
and I don't go out often, because
usually there is nothing to do,
and sometimes, peoples company
bothers me more than solitude
so I learned to make a friend
out of the four walls

you are going to be around
yourself for the rest of your life

so

you

better

get used to it

Anyway
there are
worse things
than being alone
and the sooner you learn that the better

but sometimes the four walls
start to stare back
and close in
and when that happens
I like to think of all the beautiful things

like an evergreen forest
after the first snowfall
with a pair of footprints
leading to a lonely frozen lake

or

my insomnia
as you sleep, peacefully next to me
with your hair fanned across the sheets,
an ode to randomness

And even though you're gone now
your smell remains,
for now at least
though I don't miss you
like I don't miss that scab
I picked off this
morning
but sometimes I think of you.
I light a cigarette
and write one more line
as
the
walls
close
in

Sixty years ago, you would have been hailed as a beatnik but they belonged, albeit as a temporary aberration, to another time.



"Human understanding is marvellously enlightened by daily conversation with men, for we are, otherwise, compressed and heaped up in ourselves, and have our sight limited to the length of our own noses." -Michel de Montaigne

It is good advice for any writer, because while ones own nose may be fascinating to them the rest of the world finds it quite boring. I am not belittling you, just giving some advice which will help with your poetry.

This may be true but it's worth remembering that Montaigne, a man whom I am also wont to quote occasionally, didn't live in an age when physical communication had been reduced to conversation by electronically transmitted signals via the Internet and similar devices.

[stlukesguild]

I must agree with Hawkman. As is a very common problem among contemporary poets (those of LitNet definitely not excluded) this just seems like prose broken up with odd line breaks. I think it's mostly a problem with the first two stanzas. I think the last two stanzas are quite good, though.

Thomas Disch called it "snapped prose":

Take any piece of prose you like
and snap it into lines of verse
like this, using the end of the line

as a kind of comma. You can create
a further sense of shapeliness
by grouping the snapped prose in stanzas, so.

[hillwalker]

It is very prosey as others have already pointed out (blogs are rarely as well constructed), but I still think it has certain merits.

My only piece of advice would have been to make it much shorter. You had a great exit line with

so

you

better

get used to it

but for some reason you stretched the idea to its limit and beyond.

H

[Alexander III]

This may be true but it's worth remembering that Montaigne, a man whom I am also wont to quote occasionally, didn't live in an age when physical communication had been reduced to conversation by electronically transmitted signals via the Internet and similar devices.

As a recently turned 20 year old (my birthday was last week), who goes to university and lives with a group of 5 other fellows - I have no idea what you are talking about. Modern technology allows me to stay in touch and communicate with my friends in real-time and without cost from Singapore to Argentina regardless of where I am in the world. When I have the benefit of being in the same same physical location as a friend, communication occurs as it normal has occurred for millennia. The case is the same for other 20 year olds.

Naturally there are children who all sit at table texting each other instead of talking, but considering the quality of conversation of the average 12 year old, I cannot help but feel grateful that instead of communicating out loud and polluting the environment with their noise they do it in the most silent of manners available. I also cannot help but feel that it is your lack of understanding viz modern technology that produces your hostile and rather inexplicable opinions.

[Emil Miller]

As a recently turned 20 year old (my birthday was last week), who goes to university and lives with a group of 5 other fellows - I have no idea what you are talking about. Modern technology allows me to stay in touch and communicate with my friends in real-time and without cost from Singapore to Argentina regardless of where I am in the world. When I have the benefit of being in the same same physical location as a friend, communication occurs as it normal has occurred for millennia. The case is the same for other 20 year olds.

Naturally there are children who all sit at table texting each other instead of talking, but considering the quality of conversation of the average 12 year old, I cannot help but feel grateful that instead of communicating out loud and polluting the environment with their noise they do it in the most silent of manners available. I also cannot help but feel that it is your lack of understanding viz modern technology that produces your hostile and rather inexplicable opinions.

As someone who was working with computers even before DOS, I think my understanding of new technology is probably greater than your own.
However, I suppose that one does have to make allowances for 20-year-old undergraduates.

[E.A Rumfield]

What does any of this have to do with what I wrote? Most conversation is trying and I'd rather avoid it then fake my way through it. For the few people out of every hundred that has something interesting to say I am a participant. And if it is not poetry what would make it so, should it dwell in some abstract realm of faux meaning. It is quite straight forward instead I say what I mean nothing else.

[Jeos]

some parts of the text relate to poetry, others not or less... nevertheless there is something inside it that retains the attention of the reader.

[Charles Darnay]

Poetry is not grounded in faux meaning, or even heightened meaning (unless it's a sonnet) - but it has a rhythm. Anything from structured, to blank, to free verse has a distinguished rhythm that is not just lines broken up based on arbitrary pauses.

[Alexander III]

As someone who was working with computers even before DOS, I think my understanding of new technology is probably greater than your own.
However, I suppose that one does have to make allowances for 20-year-old undergraduates.

I have had a dcik since I was born, doesn't mean I know how to use it. Faulty logic comrade.

Besides the opinions you expressed are so stereotypical and at odds with reality that what else am I to assume if not that you resort to false stereotypes, and cliche generalizations because you don't know how to use this modern technology, and thus it appears ebil...?


Most conversation is trying and I'd rather avoid it then fake my way through it. For the few people out of every hundred that has something interesting to say I am a participant.

Have you ever considered the fact that the problem is you and not everyone else? I mean based on the views you expressed about contemporary culture in another thread, the majority of peoples views are too mature for you. Instead of rejecting them because they are not like yours, why not try to pay attention to them?



And if it is not poetry what would make it so, should it dwell in some abstract realm of faux meaning. It is quite straight forward instead I say what I mean nothing else.


No one here is saying that it is not poetry, they are just trying to say that is is not very good poetry. And one of the chief reasons that it is not very good is that it is too prosaic and lacks art.

[Emil Miller]

I have had a dcik since I was born, doesn't mean I know how to use it. Faulty logic comrade.

Besides the opinions you expressed are so stereotypical and at odds with reality that what else am I to assume if not that you resort to false stereotypes, and cliche generalizations because you don't know how to use this modern technology, and thus it appears ebil...?

This merely underlines what I have said. Your views, as with anyone else, would have more conviction were they to be made personally rather than by use of the Internet. A face to face conversation will always be more meaningful than one carried on over an Internet chat line between people who don't have any personal connection.

[E.A Rumfield]

I disagree and I never liked the stink of art anyway. And Charles it is not broken up arbitrarily it has its own rhythm and is pleasant to read I thought. But never mind dwelling in the past is useless and the goal is to master new terrains and while this is unfamiliar ground I am sure I'll gain my footing soon enough.

And behold another pathetic pissing contest on a windy day where no one wins and everyone smells like urine.

[stlukesguild]

I disagree and I never liked the stink of art anyway.

Well then you are in the wrong field my friend because literature is first and foremost "art." You should have recognized this long ago and have moved on from some feigned iconoclasm... unless you are still 16.

And Charles it is not broken up arbitrarily it has its own rhythm and is pleasant to read I thought.

Many would beg to differ... or would point out that even if he were a master of poetic form he could still be (and is) a crappy poet. There is no end of perfectly structured sonnets that are equally crappy.

But never mind dwelling in the past is useless and the goal is to master new terrains...

It is amazing that those who forever speak of blazing new trails and challenging the status quo continually employ the same tired cliche in attempted to dismiss any criticism that comes their way: "You're all stuck in the past... the old paradigms are no longer relevant... etc..." The problem is that originality in art isn't about some cheap surface notion of "the new"... "novelty"... or something rather like latest fashion (and in most cases that which is passed off as "new" is rather cliche to those who are aware of Rimbaud, Mallarme, Ezra Pound, Apollinaire, Paul Celan, Cesar Vallejo, Fernando Pessoa, Charles Olsen, Paul Eluard, Andre Breton, etc...). Originality in the arts has to do with developing a voice that is distinctly your own. The merits of any poetic voice are based upon the aesthetic strength and vision of this voice.

You cannot have have your cake and eat it too. You cannot hope to dismiss and denigrate "art" and aesthetic values and yet hope to be taken seriously within the same realm.

If however your goal is to write for angst-laden teenagers with little or no experience in reading poetry... well then carry on.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

I will say this for E.A. He's a better poet than Wolf Larsen.

[paradoxical]

I will say this for E.A. He's a better poet than Wolf Larsen.

Whatever happened to Wolf Larsen? I kind of miss the guy.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

He'll be back. He always comes back.

[paradoxical]

Not only is he a poet, he was also a presidental candidate! I actually watched some of his Youtube videos. Pretty crazy stuff.

[E.A Rumfield]

I disagree and I never liked the stink of art anyway.

Well then you are in the wrong field my friend because literature is first and foremost "art." You should have recognized this long ago and have moved on from some feigned iconoclasm... unless you are still 16.

And Charles it is not broken up arbitrarily it has its own rhythm and is pleasant to read I thought.

Many would beg to differ... or would point out that even if he were a master of poetic form he could still be (and is) a crappy poet. There is no end of perfectly structured sonnets that are equally crappy.

But never mind dwelling in the past is useless and the goal is to master new terrains...

It is amazing that those who forever speak of blazing new trails and challenging the status quo continually employ the same tired cliche in attempted to dismiss any criticism that comes their way: "You're all stuck in the past... the old paradigms are no longer relevant... etc..." The problem is that originality in art isn't about some cheap surface notion of "the new"... "novelty"... or something rather like latest fashion (and in most cases that which is passed off as "new" is rather cliche to those who are aware of Rimbaud, Mallarme, Ezra Pound, Apollinaire, Paul Celan, Cesar Vallejo, Fernando Pessoa, Charles Olsen, Paul Eluard, Andre Breton, etc...). Originality in the arts has to do with developing a voice that is distinctly your own. The merits of any poetic voice are based upon the aesthetic strength and vision of this voice.

You cannot have have your cake and eat it too. You cannot hope to dismiss and denigrate "art" and aesthetic values and yet hope to be taken seriously within the same realm.

If however your goal is to write for angst-laden teenagers with little or no experience in reading poetry... well then carry on.

You sound like a fool sitting here talking are this **** as if I've offended you in some way. Art stinks because people stink it up to no end constantly going on beating it into the ground. You talk about art and aesthetic value but what have you gained from the actual substance besides some lofty feeling. And the goal is to always expand in a personal way, improve everyday. Sometimes I write things I am proud of sometimes not so much but that's the way it goes. You my friend take yourself to seriously therefore you will never be taken seriously. Same thing with an artist who takes their selves to seriously. And lets recognize that the arts have been a self haven for a lot of people other wise ill equipped for life and a lot of times ill equipped for art so why shouldn't it stink by now. Doesn't mean my "art" has to stink. "Art" people fall in love with that word. I am not an artist I am a madman with some deficiency that outlets itself in a written way.

And anyone who ever wrote any good poetry knows there are more important things in life than writing poetry.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

Stlukes is a pretty accomplished artist.

It is funny seeing someone so seriously condemn someone for being too serious, though. :lol: Take a toke from that 40 bag, relax, and write some more mediocre poetry, bro.

[E.A Rumfield]

That's like you're opinion man. You know, like what've you accomplished with you're life.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

A lot.

[kittypaws]

I try not to think too much
they say it's bad for you
so I sit around smoking rolled cigarettes
and reading several books at a time

I don't write unless I am inspired to
and I don't go out often, because
usually there is nothing to do,
and sometimes, peoples company
bothers me more than solitude
so I learned to make a friend
out of the four walls

you are going to be around
yourself for the rest of your life

so

you

better

get used to it

Anyway
there are
worse things
than being alone
and the sooner you learn that the better

but sometimes the four walls
start to stare back
and close in
and when that happens
I like to think of all the beautiful things

like an evergreen forest
after the first snowfall
with a pair of footprints
leading to a lonely frozen lake

or

my insomnia
as you sleep, peacefully next to me
with your hair fanned across the sheets,
an ode to randomness

And even though you're gone now
your smell remains,
for now at least
though I don't miss you
like I don't miss that scab
I picked off this
morning
but sometimes I think of you.
I light a cigarette
and write one more line
as
the
walls
close
in

Hi Kittypaws here who is just putting in her two cents..
I would end it after the "get used to it." line.

I found the picking scabs very disguising and it did not enhance the write but I see the love of your life is gone...perhaps a second poem to this one?

Another thing.....are you a male chauvinist? this write came across to me as a male dominating a female...which is all a part of creative writing....just wondering as Kittypaws does.

[E.A Rumfield]

A lot.

I doubt it, from what I've seen around here you're somewhat of a lackey, you come in after one boss says something going "Aw letmeatem boss letmeatem." Plus it's 12.30 on a Saturday and what are you doing? Same as me and I smoke the leaves.


Hi Kittypaws here who is just putting in her two cents..
I would end it after the "get used to it." line.

I found the picking scabs very disguising and it did not enhance the write but I see the love of your life is gone...perhaps a second poem to this one?

Another thing.....are you a male chauvinist? this write came across to me as a male dominating a female...which is all a part of creative writing....just wondering as Kittypaws does.

I don't think I am.

[kittypaws]

good to know!!

You did well.....keep up the good work!

Kittypaws

[bIGwIRE]

I am not an artist I am a madman with some deficiency that outlets itself in a written way.

And anyone who ever wrote any good poetry knows there are more important things in life than writing poetry.

Hi Rum. So you consider yourself a madman? I've seen, from other threads, how much you enjoy a lot of the beat gen writers, and little wonder, because many of them were very much "mad" individuals. The poem you've presented here also testifies to your admiration of them, clever prose sprinkled with poetic spices. "Beatnik"ish, if you will.

Please don't take these next thoughts the wrong way, because I've always admired men who stand up for what they believe, and I also have a tendency to learn and experience new things by playing Devil's Advocate. Proving something true by making every argument against it. But consider, when is the last time you saw StLukes, Alexander, MM, and the rest all jump into a personal poetry thread together? Especially when the OP is someone they've had little spats with in the past? You can't walk into someones house, attack its supports and foundations, and expect the the roof won't crash down on you, if the residents don't eject you first. I'm not saying you shouldn't take a stand when you feel the need, only that taking such a stand will retard your progress and learning potential. These young men can teach you, and me, things that will help us advance, but they won't continue trying if you piss them off. Maybe try to find some more balance? Between being true and honest to yourself, and being humble and teachable?

Also, please understand that there is a fine line between being a "madman", as you say, and being an idiot. The difference is being able to reason on things. Madmen, if anything over reason, over analyse, while an idiot cannot reason, but resolutely stands his ground, no matter what. Both have passion. I'm not saying that you're an idiot. Only, try to reason on what these people say, even if you bristle at the delivery or at the academic "elitism." Take what they say, ignore how they say it, and apply what you want, and discard what you don't.

Only please, Rum, refrain from kicking up any more sand. Even if I agree with you, it is irritating.

[E.A Rumfield]

Hi Rum. So you consider yourself a madman? I've seen, from other threads, how much you enjoy a lot of the beat gen writers, and little wonder, because many of them were very much "mad" individuals. The poem you've presented here also testifies to your admiration of them, clever prose sprinkled with poetic spices. "Beatnik"ish, if you will.

Please don't take these next thoughts the wrong way, because I've always admired men who stand up for what they believe, and I also have a tendency to learn and experience new things by playing Devil's Advocate. Proving something true by making every argument against it. But consider, when is the last time you saw StLukes, Alexander, MM, and the rest all jump into a personal poetry thread together? Especially when the OP is someone they've had little spats with in the past? You can't walk into someones house, attack its supports and foundations, and expect the the roof won't crash down on you, if the residents don't eject you first. I'm not saying you shouldn't take a stand when you feel the need, only that taking such a stand will retard your progress and learning potential. These young men can teach you, and me, things that will help us advance, but they won't continue trying if you piss them off. Maybe try to find some more balance? Between being true and honest to yourself, and being humble and teachable?

Also, please understand that there is a fine line between being a "madman", as you say, and being an idiot. The difference is being able to reason on things. Madmen, if anything over reason, over analyse, while an idiot cannot reason, but resolutely stands his ground, no matter what. Both have passion. I'm not saying that you're an idiot. Only, try to reason on what these people say, even if you bristle at the delivery or at the academic "elitism." Take what they say, ignore how they say it, and apply what you want, and discard what you don't.

Only please, Rum, refrain from kicking up any more sand. Even if I agree with you, it is irritating.

Some people have been on this site are helpful and wise in their analysis that's why I choose to post my work here. I feel I gain something by hearing what other people have to say. Others are brash and repetitive like MM who feels the need to accuse me of being a stoner, which is arbitrary. And StLuke instead of adding anything helpful to the criticism of the poem I posted went off on to some art based tangent saying I couldn't appreciate aesthetics because we have different values. It's not helpful in anyway. There was a post to start that was directed at the anti-social sentiment in the poem which turned into some stupid debate about philosophical values. Again not pertaining to the poem. hillwalker, jack of hearts are a few of the members I would have considered helpful, but a lot of times things boil down to petty trifling. I can except criticism and if I thought my writing was ready I would publish but I don't so I post it here. You seem rational and I understand your point.

[hallaig]

I don't know, I think you're being a bit harsh. This is much better than a lot of stuff round here. I like its emotional honesty and the way it returns to the theme of the 4 walls, and the stream of consciousness thing works for me. I think its actually quite clever and affecting.

It's meaningless to say it lacks art, it is art. Some of you may think it's bad art, but there we go. I personally like it.

[Alexander III]

A face to face conversation will always be more meaningful than one carried on over an Internet chat line between people who don't have any personal connection.

I agree. But what you were implying was that people were replacing face to face conversation with digital conversation. This is not true, digital conversation is used as an auxiliary. Were it not for said technology me and you would not be having this conversation face to face, me and you would have simply never met, lit-net could never exists and we would all be limited to conversing with the people whom we physically know, about literature.

What I cannot account for is your fear that digital communication would supplant physical communication. As a young man (the primary demographic of peoples who inspire fear with their strange new use of technology), I have seen nothing to support that fear. I am not saying all technological progress is necessarily beneficial, but in the real of communication it has been immensely positive, one need merely think about the arab spring...


Some people have been on this site are helpful and wise in their analysis that's why I choose to post my work here. I feel I gain something by hearing what other people have to say. Others are brash and repetitive like MM who feels the need to accuse me of being a stoner, which is arbitrary. And StLuke instead of adding anything helpful to the criticism of the poem I posted went off on to some art based tangent saying I couldn't appreciate aesthetics because we have different values. It's not helpful in anyway. There was a post to start that was directed at the anti-social sentiment in the poem which turned into some stupid debate about philosophical values. Again not pertaining to the poem. hillwalker, jack of hearts are a few of the members I would have considered helpful, but a lot of times things boil down to petty trifling. I can except criticism and if I thought my writing was ready I would publish but I don't so I post it here. You seem rational and I understand your point.


MM is a clever and cool guy, and I doubt you could find a single regular member here who has not learnt a fair amount from St.Lukes.

Things got a bit heated, but as BigWire delicately said, no one want's to bash on you for the sake of it. It is just an often seen pattern:

Poet A posts a poem

Well learned members offer criticism trying to help the poet with his art

Poet A Say's you are wrong and ignores everyone

Well learned members start to get frustrated at stubbornness and their aesthetic critique mingles a bit with personal frustration at the cliche and often see nature of the poet who is unwilling to accept criticism

Poet A gets verbally aggressive

Things get heated


Anyway everyone who offered advice was simply trying to help you. One of the hardest things at first, is realizing how bad your poems are. I recall posting poems here which were half baked imitations of Keat's, and it took me a while to realize that it was not the world but my mind that was narrow, so I began reading more and more and more; because if the only poetry you have read is from a single country and a single century, not matter how much poetic talent one might have, their poetry shall be bad. It's like a general which has only ever studied one war. Even a general with mediocre talent who has studied a few wars will appear a genius next to him.

[stlukesguild]

You sound like a fool sitting here talking are this **** as if I've offended you in some way.

I suppose it is useful... a sort of defense mechanism to assume that everyone who fails to agree with you... whether they are speaking of T.S. Eliot or offering a criticism of your poetry... is a fool.

Art stinks because people stink it up to no end constantly going on beating it into the ground.

A lot of Art does stink... although I would guess we have a very different sense of smell.

You talk about art and aesthetic value but what have you gained from the actual substance besides some lofty feeling.

What has art given me? A Passion and a Pleasure. At times a little spending money. You, undoubtedly, have some romantic illusion as to what the purpose of Art is.

And the goal is to always expand in a personal way, improve everyday.

Did I not see it coming? Now if their is a bigger fool than the fool who imagines that he alone can define Art and its purpose, I would like to meet him/her.

Sometimes I write things I am proud of sometimes not so much but that's the way it goes. You my friend take yourself to seriously therefore you will never be taken seriously.

You don't know me... let alone my own artistic endeavors. I don't take myself seriously... but I take Art very seriously. Contrary to your suppositions, most who have seen my art tend to take to take to take it seriously enough... even when it has a comic edge to it.

Same thing with an artist who takes their selves to seriously. And lets recognize that the arts have been a self haven for a lot of people other wise ill equipped for life and a lot of times ill equipped for art so why shouldn't it stink by now.

What you say may indeed have a large grain of truth to it. There are indeed more than a few who enter into the arts ill equipped to function in either real life or the art world. But for someone who seemingly cannot function without his regular drug-induced escape from reality, and who cannot accept criticism of his art from others who may actually have more experience... the question you may need to ask is whether or not you are describing the man in the mirror.

"Art" people fall in love with that word. I am not an artist I am a madman with some deficiency that outlets itself in a written way.

I'll take your word for it that you are not an artist. "Madman?" No... you're just playing at what you think a "real artist" is like. I knew many such posers in art school: dressed all in black... or in paint-spattered jeans (not actually the result of painting... but rather of placing the jeans on the floor an intentionally dripping paint on them)... drank a lot... smoked a lot of weed... lazy... never rolled into the studios until noon... and then sat about waiting for divine inspiration to strike. It never did. And they never made anything of any real merit. Sound familiar?

And anyone who ever wrote any good poetry knows there are more important things in life than writing poetry.

Perhaps... perhaps they "know" that there are more "important" things than art or poetry... but at the same time, anyone who ever achieved anything of any worth in art or music or poetry recognizes that Art it is also a job... something that involves learning... a mastery of the skills and vocabulary... and self-discipline... as well as a belief that there is nothing more important that Art... nothing more important than their creative endeavors... it is their love, their passion, and what they live for.

Picasso knew more of genius and creativity and originality than most... and he declared, "Inspiration exists, but it has got to find you working."

Not sitting on your ***, smoking pot, and striking an artsy pose.

[Alexander III]

[COLOR="DarkRed"]

Not sitting on your ***, smoking pot, and striking an artsy pose.

Can we stop the weed bashing? I most likely smoke as much as him and yet I don't think anyone would deny that on these boards I produce entertaining, pleasurable and stimulating conversation. Not always, but on occasion I manage it.

[Jack of Hearts]

Now this is postured like the Buk. It isn't bad at all- not in a way that we could give it specific direction. But it feels like it needs a little more digestion-- which is just a fifty cent way of saying it feels diluted somehow. Spend some more time with your head in it firstly and, secondly, make your edits. Brevity helps, conciseness helps... sometimes. This little piece has much more beauty in it that deserves to be carved out.

lol at the rest of this retarded convo.










J (who can't stay away from anglophones...)

[paradoxical]

Please don't take these next thoughts the wrong way, because I've always admired men who stand up for what they believe, and I also have a tendency to learn and experience new things by playing Devil's Advocate. Proving something true by making every argument against it. But consider, when is the last time you saw StLukes, Alexander, MM, and the rest all jump into a personal poetry thread together? Especially when the OP is someone they've had little spats with in the past? You can't walk into someones house, attack its supports and foundations, and expect the the roof won't crash down on you, if the residents don't eject you first. I'm not saying you shouldn't take a stand when you feel the need, only that taking such a stand will retard your progress and learning potential. These young men can teach you, and me, things that will help us advance, but they won't continue trying if you piss them off. Maybe try to find some more balance? Between being true and honest to yourself, and being humble and teachable?

Fair enough, but if this was a poorly written sonnet or traditional poem do you really think StLukes would have brought the hammer down like this? Of course not. It's this type of poetry and the views expressed by E.A. Rumsfield that seem to get under his skin. The same as when someone questions the relevance of canonical authors. The response always seems to be: How dare you question the established or accepted standards? Who do you think you are to challenge tradition? This was all done a hundred years ago anyway, and so on.

Notice the persitant use of sterotypes: You must be 16 years old, you are a poser, this is feigned iconoclasm, you're stoned on pot, etc. It's all been said before and I thought the statement he made about art students who dressed all in black was very telling. Conservative much? Look, it's always easier to argue from the position of the status quo and it's easy to beat up on someone who says something controversial or is rebellious in nature. That's the problem I have with this. And all to often, other posters join in, just like you mentioned. But I think it had less to do with the poem itself and was more about people spotting some easy meat and moving in for the kill.

[Alexander III]

Fair enough, but if this was a poorly written sonnet or traditional poem do you really think StLukes would have brought the hammer down like this? Of course not. It's this type of poetry and the views expressed by E.A. Rumsfield that seem to get under his skin. The same as when someone questions the relevance of canonical authors. The response always seems to be: How dare you question the established or accepted standards? Who do you think you are to challenge tradition? This was all done a hundred years ago anyway, and so on.

Notice the persitant use of sterotypes: You must be 16 years old, you are a poser, this is feigned iconoclasm, you're stoned on pot, etc. It's all been said before and I thought the statement he made about art students who dressed all in black was very telling. Conservative much? Look, it's always easier to argue from the position of the status quo and it's easy to beat up on someone who says something controversial or is rebellious in nature. That's the problem I have with this. And all to often, other posters join in, just like you mentioned. But I think it had less to do with the poem itself and was more about people spotting some easy meat and moving in for the kill.

What exactly is controversial or rebellious about this poem? Are you from 1720? I doubt Rums-field would think there was anything controversial here, it is a poem on solitude. The theme is as old as poetry(nothing wrong with that, it is virtually impossible to write a poem on a subject which no one ever has written a poem on)

Whenever someone think they are writing scandalous and rebellious poetry against the notions of "academic propriety" I refer them to Catullus 16. It was done 2000 years ago, and calling it new or pushing the art form, when it was already done 2000 years ago is like calling Christianity a new religion.

Or if not Catullus, I could refer you to the poems of the second earl of Rochester, which make most of Bukowski look tame and middle-class moral by comparison.

What do Catullus and The 2nd Earl of Rochester have in common? They wrote on "scandalous" subjects, with a form which was beautiful.

Writing something "scandalous" without beautiful for and thinking it great on the basis of how Rebellious and un-status-quo it is, reveals one's ignorance of literary history and conformist attitude more than it does any sense of uniqueness.



What St.lukes and many others were criticizing about the poem was it's banality and cliche nature.

Anyone who has see the average art school student will have a hard time disagreeing with St.lukes assessment of them.

A Ramble in St.James's Park - The Second Earl of Rochester, John Wilmot

Much wine had passed, with grave discourse
Of who ****s who, and who does worse
(Such as you usually do hear
From those that diet at the Bear),
When I, who still take care to see
Drunkenness relieved by lechery,
Weent out into St. James's Park
To cool my head and fire my heart.
But though St. James has th' honor on 't,
'Tis consecrate to prick and ****.
There, by a most incestuous birth,
Strange woods spring from the teeming earth;
For they relate how heretofore,
When ancient Pict behan to whore,
Deluded of his assignation
(Jilting, it seems, was then in fashion),
Poor pensive lover, in this place
Would frig upon his mother's face;
Whence rows of mandrakes tall did rise
Whose lewd tops ****ed the very skies.
Each imitative branch does twine
In some loved fold of Aretine,
And nightly now beneath their shade
Are buggeries, rapes, and incests made.
Unto this all-sin-sheltering grove
Whores of the bulk and the alcove,
Great ladies, chambermaids, and drudges,
The ragpicker, and heiress trudges.
Carmen, divines, great lords, and tailors,
Prentices, poets, pimps, and jailers,
Footmen, fine fops do here arrive,
And here promiscuously they swive.
brkAlong these hallowed walks it was
That I beheld Corinna pass.
Whoever had been by to see
The proud disdain she cast on me
Through charming eyes, he would have swore
She dropped from heaven that very hour,
Forsaking the divine abode
In scorn of some despairing god.
But mark what creatures women are:
How infinitely vile, when fair!
brkThree knights o' the' elbow and the slur
With wriggling tails made up to her.
brkThe first was of your Whitehall baldes,
Near kin t' th' Mother of the Maids;
Graced by whose favor he was able
To bring a friend t' th' Waiters' table,
Where he had heard Sir Edward Sutton
Say how the King loved Banstead mutton;
Since when he'd ne'er be brought to eat
By 's good will any other meat.
In this, as well as allthe rest,
He ventures to do like the best,
But wanting common sense, th' ingredient
In choosing well not least expedient,
Converts abortive imitation
To universal affectation.
Thus he not only eats and talks
But feels and smells, sits down and walks,
Nay looks, and lives, and loves by rote
In an old tawdry birthday coat.
brkThe second was a Grays Inn wit,
A great inhabiter of the pit,
Where critic-like he sits and squints,
Steals pocket handkerchiefs, and hints
From 's neighbor, and the comedy,
To court, and pay, his landlady.
brkThe third, a lady's eldest son
Within few years of twenty-one
bWho hopes from his propitious fate,
Against he comes to his estate,
By these two worthies to be made
A most accomplished tearing blade.
brkOne, in a strain 'twixt tune and nonsense,
Cries, "Madam, I have loved you long since.
Permit me your fair hand to kiss";
When at her mouth her **** cries, "Yes!"
In short, without much more ado,
Joyful and pleased, away she flew,
And with these three confounded asses
From park to hackney coach she passes.
brkSo a proud ***** does lead about
Of humble curs the amorous rout,
Who most obsequiously do hunt
The savory scent of salt-swoln ****.
Some power more patient now relate
The sense of this surprising fate.
Gods! that a thing admired by me
Should fall to so much infamy.
Had she picked out, to rub her arse on,
Some stiff-pricked clown or well-hung parson,
Each job of whose spermatic sluice
Had filled her **** with wholesome juice,
I the proceeding should have praised
In hope sh' had quenched a fire I raised.
Such natural freedoms are but just:
There's something generous in mere lust.
But to turn a damned abandoned jade
When neither head nor tail persuade;
100
To be a whore in understanding,
A passive pot for fools to spend in!
The devil played booty, sure, with thee
To bring a blot on infamy.
brkBut why am I, of all mankind,
To so severe a fate designed?
Ungrateful! Why this treachery
To humble fond, believing me,
Who gave you privilege above
The nice allowances of love?
Did ever I refuse to bear
The meanest part your lust could spare?
When your lewd **** came spewing home
Drenched with the seed of half the town,
My dram of sperm was supped up after
For the digestive surfeit water.
Full gorged at another time
With a vast meal of slime
Which your devouring **** had drawn
From porters' backs and footmen's brawn,
I was content to serve you up
My ballock-full for your grace cup,
Nor ever thought it an abuse
While you had pleasure for excuse -
You tht could make my heart away
For noise and color, and betray
The secrets of my tender hours
To such knight-errant paramours,
When, leaning on your faithless breast,
Wrapped in security and rest,
Soft kindness all my powers did move,
And reason lay dissolved in love!
brkMay stinking vapors choke your womb
Such as the men you dote upon
May your depraved appetite,
That could in whiffling fools delight,
Beget such frenzies in your mind
You may go mad for the north wind,
And fixing all your hopes upon't
To have him bluster in your ****,
Turn up your longing arse t' th' air
And perish in a wild despair!
But cowards shall forget to rant,
Schoolboys to frig, old whores to paint;
The Jesuits' fraternity
Shall leave the use of buggery;
Crab-louse, inspired with grace divine,
From earthly cod to heaven shall climb;
Physicians shall believe in Jesus,
And disobedience cease to please us,
Ere I desist with all my power
To plague this woman and undo her.
But my revenge will best be timed
When she is married that is limed.
In that most lamentable state
I'll make her feel my scorn and hate:
Pelt her with scandals, truth or lies,
And her poor cur with jealousied,
Till I have torn him from her breech,
While she whines like a dog-drawn *****;
Loathed and despised, kicked out o' th' Town
Into some dirty hole alone,
To chew the cud of misery
And know she owes it all to me.
brkAnd may no woman better thrive
brkThat dares prophane the **** I swive!

Much of the poem above is censored due to no fault of my own but rather LitNet's filters.


Catullus 16

Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi,
qui me ex versiculis meis putastis,
quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum.
Nam castum esse decet pium poetam
ipsum, versiculos nihil necessest;

qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem,
si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici
et quod pruriat incitare possunt,
non dico pueris, sed his pilosis
qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos.
Vos, quod milia multa basiorum
legistis, male me marem putatis?
Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.

[E.A Rumfield]

Now this is postured like the Buk. It isn't bad at all- not in a way that we could give it specific direction. But it feels like it needs a little more digestion-- which is just a fifty cent way of saying it feels diluted somehow. Spend some more time with your head in it firstly and, secondly, make your edits. Brevity helps, conciseness helps... sometimes. This little piece has much more beauty in it that deserves to be carved out.

lol at the rest of this retarded convo.










J (who can't stay away from anglophones...)


Very much so. I'm trying to step away from such abstract poems that I have written before and step into the real world a little more and I borrowed a little style from Chinaski. There is a place for both.

Surrounded,
the sounds closing in
of dull conversation
like committing seppuku
with a bamboo blade
the sounds closing
in like the walls
on bad mushrooms
but the trick is
to remain composed
let the adrenaline take over
in a semi circle
the people begin to
swarm, dead eyes
and the ugliest faces
you've ever seen
but the trick is
to stay sharp
let instinct reign
oh but the beasts
march forward
a bit of rotted flesh falls on
one of their Nike shoes
so close I can smell the death
on their breath
personalities like butter knifes
or one size fits all baseball caps
they converge
and someone asks
me if I seen the game

Since we're just posting other poems I'll post some of mine

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

Can we stop the weed bashing? I most likely smoke as much as him and yet I don't think anyone would deny that on these boards I produce entertaining, pleasurable and stimulating conversation. Not always, but on occasion I manage it.
Yeah, but you don't brag about it. I don't care if someone smokes weed--I'm completely pro legalization. I just thinks it's REALLY stupid to take pride in it. It's like the morons who wear shirts with pot leaves or pro-pot bumper stickers. You smoke pot. Congratulations! Way an accomplishment.

Some people have been on this site are helpful and wise in their analysis that's why I choose to post my work here. I feel I gain something by hearing what other people have to say. Others are brash and repetitive like MM who feels the need to accuse me of being a stoner, which is arbitrary. And StLuke instead of adding anything helpful to the criticism of the poem I posted went off on to some art based tangent saying I couldn't appreciate aesthetics because we have different values. It's not helpful in anyway. There was a post to start that was directed at the anti-social sentiment in the poem which turned into some stupid debate about philosophical values. Again not pertaining to the poem. hillwalker, jack of hearts are a few of the members I would have considered helpful, but a lot of times things boil down to petty trifling. I can except criticism and if I thought my writing was ready I would publish but I don't so I post it here. You seem rational and I understand your point.

:nopity:

[stlukesguild]

Fair enough, but if this was a poorly written sonnet or traditional poem do you really think StLukes would have brought the hammer down like this? Of course not.

As others have suggested this poem is not in any way grossly inferior to a lot of the other works posted here. However the poet clearly drew attention to himself by posing as some iconoclastic revolutionary, making sweepingly dismissive comments of not only established and acknowledged "masters" but of art in general, and brushing aside all opinions that he disagreed with as the product of "fools". It's only to expected that when one goes about essentially repudiating and even mocking the achievements of everyone else that one likely succeeds in painting a very large target on one's own back. Striking the pose of an iconoclast and and revolutionary... and even creating manifestos (figuratively or literally... ie. Wolf) is well and fine... but then one better damn well be able to back it up. If you wanna talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk.

It's this type of poetry and the views expressed by E.A. Rumsfield that seem to get under his skin.

Oh please! Another one making assumptions based on...? Go read Rimbaud, Verlaine, Mallarme, Pessoa, Paul Celan, Bertolt Brecht, Apollinaire, Vallejo, Charles Olsen... hell, even François Villon if you want poetry that pushes the boundaries and even challenges notions of decorum and good taste. You want poetry that revels in vulgarity... yet retains its aesthetic brilliance, try Baudelaire's Carrion:

http://fleursdumal.org/poem/126

The same as when someone questions the relevance of canonical authors. The response always seems to be: How dare you question the established or accepted standards? Who do you think you are to challenge tradition? This was all done a hundred years ago anyway, and so on.

This is the same pathetic defense employed by the singer, Jewell when her "masterful" collection of "poems" was panned by the critics. She retorted that the critics were stuck in the past and couldn't grasp her innovations and her daring... refusing to pander to traditional poetic forms and expectations.

I suspect that I may be a bit more cognizant of contemporary poetry and even avant-garde poetic experiments than you would suggest.

Notice the persitant use of sterotypes: You must be 16 years old, you are a poser, this is feigned iconoclasm, you're stoned on pot, etc. It's all been said before and I thought the statement he made about art students who dressed all in black was very telling. Conservative much?

Give me a break. You imagine that Bukowski and the Beats amount to some notion of revolutionary innovation? The 50s and 60s were dead and gone before you were born. What have you read by a living poet of any merit that would lead me to even begin to thing that you are not simply talking out of backside?

Look, it's always easier to argue from the position of the status quo and it's easy to beat up on someone who says something controversial or is rebellious in nature.

Oh God! The dude scribbles a poem in imitation of the style of Bukowski and the Beats and those who haven't read much of anything at all imagine him to represent the voice of artistic controversy and innovation.

Whenever someone think they are writing scandalous and rebellious poetry against the notions of "academic propriety" I refer them to Catullus 16. It was done 2000 years ago, and calling it new or pushing the art form, when it was already done 2000 years ago is like calling Christianity a new religion.

Or if not Catullus, I could refer you to the poems of the second earl of Rochester, which make most of Bukowski look tame and middle-class moral by comparison.

Don't forget Villon and Baudelaire... and there are even some rather scandalous verses by the early Greeks... to say nothing of Gilgamesh.

[Alexander III]

Surrounded,
the sounds closing in
of dull conversation
like committing seppuku
with a bamboo blade

Ok you are making progress, this has a solid rhythm and feels like a poem rather than prose. "like committing seppuku / with a bamboo blade" That is a strong image. As Horace said, poetry is like painting and the image is one of the best tools in the repertoire. I congradulate you on the image, it is original and eloquent; you have said adieu to cliche like a man waving adieu to the whore which over-charges. This is good. However, while I admire the aesthetics of the image, the image does not exactly work in substance.

The poem is about you being threatened and attacked, the lone individual being suffocated by the mass. Yet the image of a pathetic suicide is used. You are not aatacking yourself, it is the other who are attacking you, hence the image of suicide is rather in conflic with reason. Not that one cannot conflict with reason, but it is best to do so with the reason of others not your own. An image of bamboo blades or soemthing equally pathetic attacking you is the key, change suicide to assualt or murder. Otherwise the implication is masturbatory; to wit, you are fvcking yourself.


the sounds closing
in like the walls
on bad mushrooms

Noooo, just as you had waved adieu to the over-charging and poor-preforming whore whom we call Cliche, you go back to her!!! Nay, stay away, she is easy and always waiting outside your window but do not let laziness compel you to service yourself with her. For better prices and greater pleasure can be found at just a short walk away, do not fear excursion and effort, make the short walk!


but the trick is
to remain composed
let the adrenaline take over
in a semi circle
the people begin to
swarm, dead eyes
and the ugliest faces
you've ever seen

We are starting to loose the rhythm and the good images here, we are moving away from the good poesy of the first four lines, instead we have prose chopped up to look like verse. To return to the district of whores, just because her face is covered in paint does not make her beautiful. Do not fall for such simple affectation, pick the whore who is truly beautiful - (of course said whore does not posses natural or true beauty, but her art is so experianced that her affectaion, while just as present as that of her counterpart with the painted face, is barley visible.) The latter whore goes by the name of Poesy.


but the trick is
to stay sharp
let instinct reign
oh but the beasts
march forward

The rhythm is back here and so is the natural flow of language, this is good. Though not inovative here you have mastered the basics. But that is good. You can purchase the most expensive Hussar uniform out there, but if you do not posses courage the uniform will only accentuate your flamboyant ridiculousness rather than your daring and fearlessness. Better to lack the uniform but posses the virtue.


a bit of rotted flesh falls on
one of their Nike shoes

Nike shoes? Here I object not on aesthetic grounds but on moral ones. As I suppose myself to be part of the crowd swarming in on you, the mere fact that you would insinuate that I weak Sneakers at any other time excpet when I am at the gym or jogging is morally repugnant. Of all of the moral debaucheries and atrocities against mankind that the plebians have commited, the cheif one is wearing sneakers as normal shoes rather than as utilitarian sport shoes. The second one would probably be the orgies of aristocratic be-heding they are prone to do every so often.


so close I can smell the death
on their breath

I would oppose the word "death" here. It gives a sense of power and strength to the creatures which are attacking you. Death conquers all after all. Rather maybe it is best to not imply your own inevitable defeat in the poem? Unless you want to imply it, because much like Death, Maturity too shall conquer all, even the stubbornness of it's antagonists.



personalities like butter knifes

So the personalities of your attackers are dull and harmless? I would change the metaphor, as the narratow is clearly under threat from the crowd encroaching in upon him, to imply that said crowd is truly harmless would put forth in the readers mind the question of "how much of a catamite does the narrator need to be to be threatened and feel anxiety by soething as harmless as a butter-knife. Your turn a story of opression and endurace of a single lone and free-thinking individual into a farce of a hero contemplating his his struggle and finding the strength to face an enemy figure ready to fihght a duel to the death, but as soon as his enemy arrives we see that he is armed with a dildo and so is the hero.


or one size fits all baseball caps
they converge
and someone asks
me if I seen the game

fvuck I just lost the game.


Since we're just posting other poems I'll post some of mine

To be fair I posted those poems to show you some examples of rebellious and unconventional poetry done right. As a sort of fine vintage port to contrast with the cheap-perfume that is Bukowski's influence on your poesy. If a man has only ever smoked bags of Cannabis leaves he may think that that is a proper high, but when you let him try some Egyptian hash or Amsterdam's purple haze, he shall realize that while he had called mere leaves a good high before, now he would never tolerate to stupefy himself again with such pleasureless pleasures .

[E.A Rumfield]

Ok you are making progress, this has a solid rhythm and feels like a poem rather than prose. "like committing seppuku / with a bamboo blade" That is a strong image. As Horace said, poetry is like painting and the image is one of the best tools in the repertoire. I congradulate you on the image, it is original and eloquent; you have said adieu to cliche like a man waving adieu to the whore which over-charges. This is good. However, while I admire the aesthetics of the image, the image does not exactly work in substance.

The poem is about you being threatened and attacked, the lone individual being suffocated by the mass. Yet the image of a pathetic suicide is used. You are not aatacking yourself, it is the other who are attacking you, hence the image of suicide is rather in conflic with reason. Not that one cannot conflict with reason, but it is best to do so with the reason of others not your own. An image of bamboo blades or soemthing equally pathetic attacking you is the key, change suicide to assualt or murder. Otherwise the implication is masturbatory; to wit, you are fvcking yourself.



Noooo, just as you had waved adieu to the over-charging and poor-preforming whore whom we call Cliche, you go back to her!!! Nay, stay away, she is easy and always waiting outside your window but do not let laziness compel you to service yourself with her. For better prices and greater pleasure can be found at just a short walk away, do not fear excursion and effort, make the short walk!



We are starting to loose the rhythm and the good images here, we are moving away from the good poesy of the first four lines, instead we have prose chopped up to look like verse. To return to the district of whores, just because her face is covered in paint does not make her beautiful. Do not fall for such simple affectation, pick the whore who is truly beautiful - (of course said whore does not posses natural or true beauty, but her art is so experianced that her affectaion, while just as present as that of her counterpart with the painted face, is barley visible.) The latter whore goes by the name of Poesy.



The rhythm is back here and so is the natural flow of language, this is good. Though not inovative here you have mastered the basics. But that is good. You can purchase the most expensive Hussar uniform out there, but if you do not posses courage the uniform will only accentuate your flamboyant ridiculousness rather than your daring and fearlessness. Better to lack the uniform but posses the virtue.



Nike shoes? Here I object not on aesthetic grounds but on moral ones. As I suppose myself to be part of the crowd swarming in on you, the mere fact that you would insinuate that I weak Sneakers at any other time excpet when I am at the gym or jogging is morally repugnant. Of all of the moral debaucheries and atrocities against mankind that the plebians have commited, the cheif one is wearing sneakers as normal shoes rather than as utilitarian sport shoes. The second one would probably be the orgies of aristocratic be-heding they are prone to do every so often.



I would oppose the word "death" here. It gives a sense of power and strength to the creatures which are attacking you. Death conquers all after all. Rather maybe it is best to not imply your own inevitable defeat in the poem? Unless you want to imply it, because much like Death, Maturity too shall conquer all, even the stubbornness of it's antagonists.




So the personalities of your attackers are dull and harmless? I would change the metaphor, as the narratow is clearly under threat from the crowd encroaching in upon him, to imply that said crowd is truly harmless would put forth in the readers mind the question of "how much of a catamite does the narrator need to be to be threatened and feel anxiety by soething as harmless as a butter-knife. Your turn a story of opression and endurace of a single lone and free-thinking individual into a farce of a hero contemplating his his struggle and finding the strength to face an enemy figure ready to fihght a duel to the death, but as soon as his enemy arrives we see that he is armed with a dildo and so is the hero.



fvuck I just lost the game.



To be fair I posted those poems to show you some examples of rebellious and unconventional poetry done right. As a sort of fine vintage port to contrast with the cheap-perfume that is Bukowski's influence on your poesy. If a man has only ever smoked bags of Cannabis leaves he may think that that is a proper high, but when you let him try some Egyptian hash or Amsterdam's purple haze, he shall realize that while he had called mere leaves a good high before, now he would never tolerate to stupefy himself again with such pleasureless pleasures .

I wrote that poem before I wrote this one so maybe I took a step back? Most of my poems are more similar to that one than this one here. But either way I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to share your thoughts don't think they didn't go unconsidered. I guess being around the conversation is like committing suicide in a painful way. I don't have to be there but I am. If it is unclear the threat is never physical merely mental. I can smell the death because as I see it they are dead. Where I'm from everyone wears sneakers and baseball caps. The goal of that poem was to paint a strange picture of terror only for it to end on the most normal of notes. That to me is truly scary.

[E.A Rumfield]

Fair enough, but if this was a poorly written sonnet or traditional poem do you really think StLukes would have brought the hammer down like this? Of course not.

As others have suggested this poem is not in any way grossly inferior to a lot of the other works posted here. However the poet clearly drew attention to himself by posing as some iconoclastic revolutionary, making sweepingly dismissive comments of not only established and acknowledged "masters" but of art in general, and brushing aside all opinions that he disagreed with as the product of "fools". It's only to expected that when one goes about essentially repudiating and even mocking the achievements of everyone else that one likely succeeds in painting a very large target on one's own back. Striking the pose of an iconoclast and and revolutionary... and even creating manifestos (figuratively or literally... ie. Wolf) is well and fine... but then one better damn well be able to back it up. If you wanna talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk.

It's this type of poetry and the views expressed by E.A. Rumsfield that seem to get under his skin.

Oh please! Another one making assumptions based on...? Go read Rimbaud, Verlaine, Mallarme, Pessoa, Paul Celan, Bertolt Brecht, Apollinaire, Vallejo, Charles Olsen... hell, even François Villon if you want poetry that pushes the boundaries and even challenges notions of decorum and good taste. You want poetry that revels in vulgarity... yet retains its aesthetic brilliance, try Baudelaire's Carrion:

http://fleursdumal.org/poem/126

The same as when someone questions the relevance of canonical authors. The response always seems to be: How dare you question the established or accepted standards? Who do you think you are to challenge tradition? This was all done a hundred years ago anyway, and so on.

This is the same pathetic defense employed by the singer, Jewell when her "masterful" collection of "poems" was panned by the critics. She retorted that the critics were stuck in the past and couldn't grasp her innovations and her daring... refusing to pander to traditional poetic forms and expectations.

I suspect that I may be a bit more cognizant of contemporary poetry and even avant-garde poetic experiments than you would suggest.

Notice the persitant use of sterotypes: You must be 16 years old, you are a poser, this is feigned iconoclasm, you're stoned on pot, etc. It's all been said before and I thought the statement he made about art students who dressed all in black was very telling. Conservative much?

Give me a break. You imagine that Bukowski and the Beats amount to some notion of revolutionary innovation? The 50s and 60s were dead and gone before you were born. What have you read by a living poet of any merit that would lead me to even begin to thing that you are not simply talking out of backside?

Look, it's always easier to argue from the position of the status quo and it's easy to beat up on someone who says something controversial or is rebellious in nature.

Oh God! The dude scribbles a poem in imitation of the style of Bukowski and the Beats and those who haven't read much of anything at all imagine him to represent the voice of artistic controversy and innovation.

{edit}

Just think, somewhere in the world
a pretty girl is making a fart joke
or teasing a guy about his dick
a pacifist is committing murder
and the President of The United States
is being programmed by J.P Morgan
for tomorrows big speech

Somewhere, an African Lion recoils
in terror at the mere scent of a man
and who said animals were dumb
The sea turns a sickening shade of red
and in the sky a face can be seen staring
down at Earth
It's just a child looking into a snow globe
I wait till he begins to shake it

More from my mind. This is an oldie but goodie comin at you from back back back in the day with DJ Rumsfield

[Alexander III]

Just think, somewhere in the world
a pretty girl is making a fart joke
or teasing a guy about his dick
a pacifist is committing murder
and the President of The United States
is being programmed by J.P Morgan
for tomorrows big speech

Somewhere, an African Lion recoils
in terror at the mere scent of a man
and who said animals were dumb
The sea turns a sickening shade of red
and in the sky a face can be seen staring
down at Earth
It's just a child looking into a snow globe
I wait till he begins to shake it

More from my mind. This is an oldie but goodie comin at you from back back back in the day with DJ Rumsfield

To be honest I think your old style was better than your new style.


On a different note what did you think about the Earl of Rochester's poem?

[Scheherazade]

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