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on some deleted poem
13 Aug 2002, 12:36 PM
pete--why didn't you move the lines around, so that the visual appearance of the poem contributes to the shape it makes in the mind's eye?
For the moment, this rocks my world.
Who is this D.A. Are you from misery, USA. I am looking for my father. Everyone should read this before they write on this site!
Come on guys! Don't fight! Spend your time basking in the glory of the lord Jesu instead!
dude i hate that cock sucker but i have to admit this is one fucking shit poem u suck dude
Why is that lemonade? Because I can spew drivel in two seconds and folks, even like you will give it credence. I am proving a point. (I have not ventured to your work yet, but I hope it is better than some of what I have seen so far). You are a coddling patsy. Are you a high school teacher that encourages this rubbish? Not the poem above razorgirl (calm down), but in general. I do not have time to coddle. I want to read good stuff and help those writers perfect their work.
well,p&k it you seem to be becoming the resident arse-hole ( speaking in the mother tongue ) of this site ... you will have to excuse me but from where i'm coming from your winning comps in poetry at college ( creative writing classes !! real ones at that.... fer krissakes ) is merely one up from the young lady citing her school teacher
... so you've read keats and can come three times in a row ... well done boy , when you become a man write poetry to show it and i'm sure we will all revise our opinions
Darling, your brilliant use of the English language astounds me."Drivel" is a noun, not a verb. What on Earth is your degree in? Business? I'm sure you were at the top of your class at the Sad Redneck Community College, really you were. you said you'd voice your precious little opinion and move on.I'm waiting. You must be very mature for your age- what are you, 19? The object of the site is to discuss poetry as you said (so observant!you get a special short-bus, rubber-undies head-pat!), so why are you doing nothing more than writing your "deep" "hip" little snippets of your dramatic little life and bragging about the fact that you took English in college. English is for useless failed writers. you should have taken some real courses.
I say this because although some of your images have potential, they are lost in the writing. You have the inspiration, but you have yet to master the craft. Not that I think a college writing course could turn most people into good writers, but as a poet and a critic of poetry, a solid basis in form and theory certainly does no harm.
Jesus, razor girl, I am trying to move on, but everybody wants a piece of my poor hillbilly ass. I can't write fast enough. I have pete on my ass, you and lemonade. And I can only respond here. This is great work. Love it. (Is that better?)
I swear razor girl this is coming to an end.
Leomonade--Theory turns me on. Seriously, we have nothing better to do here than watch plains go over our heads and contemplate. What part of my last point did you miss? But hey, on a friendlier note, I am glad you picked up the Elliot/Chaucer punch, now I know someone on this site is schooled. Even if the poem is meant to be crap. And as far as writing classes go, half of them are like group therapy, filled with needy people and looking for art in the meantime.
Would someone who came all over this poeme tell me what they thought was good about it? I thought the "flow" of the words was "good", but if there is a non-literal message to be found then I haven't found it. Unless it's "what has the world come to; it used to be magical and special but now it's not."
Here's a bright young take on the state of things. Shouldn't this go in your journal?
wow, d.a....don't have an anuerysm, i was just fuckin around, you know 'joking', and no he's not from misery, usa..you fairy fart..he's from cleveland....and was considered to be the american version of rimbaud..he was murdered at the age of 26, (by the government) and now his ghost haunts these corridors(him and his friends were called the underground thought patrol, if you don't believe me look it up'i'm serious') as dark angel.here is a qoute from CLEVELAND UNDERCOVERS "but that was then/NOW i am, and do not expect/tomorrow or yesterday today. instead i write in exstacy/and when someone stops to say/"Hey, that's not true!"/i yell backwards,"For who........and fuck rhyme."i have a city to cover with lines, with textured words & the sweat brick-flesh images of a drunken tied-up whore house cowtown/sprawling and brawling on its back." p.s that's why i put up with his genius, he is my favorite poet. thanks again lenore for your space and words. i hope i didn't sound absurd
Fairy fart? That is creative. Homophobic ramble aside, do you have these strokes of genius often? I am looking for my father, read the text, and quit kowtowing. It does not look good on paper (or in this case a computer screen).
College poetry comps. Right-o. Try state. Pete, sorry my friend, but you smoke way too much pot. It shows in your poetry. You probably belong to a drum circle group and chant. It is all in the poetry. I like some of your images, but they wander away in your deep thoughts. And my work is on the site so free to jerk my manhood.
Your idea of what 'd.a.' likes is so wildly inaccurate that even Poetie probably has a better idea. The fact is I have hardly said anything about what I like. Does this mean I don't like anything? Of course not. I could give a long list of what I like, but I think that gushing about one's interests and/or 'passions' is one of the most odious things a human being can do. Let's just say that, if what you just said is an accurate representation of your opinion, then what you think I like is almost nothing like what I like. I do not go overboard on praise. Perhaps I go overboard on criticism. You go overboard on praise. Maybe I'm missing something, but it seems to me that constantly feigning orgasm over poemes doesn't prove anything about your ability to appreciate poetry. Especially in your case, since 90% of the time you're fucked out of your brain and find everything either awful or divine. The trick is to get over your own sense of deliberately-self-induced 'child-like wonder'. I may write a book on all the bullshit I have in my brain just to get it out of the way. The central theme will be something to do with people's incessant clinging on to 'seeing the world like a child' and constantly telling themselves things are wonderful and special and magical. That is why people clap when a cripple wins a race. They want to live in a world in which things end up like in children's books. It makes them feel safe and happy. Part of this illusion is approving of everything that initially seems good, or even better than average.
This is a child's misapprehension. To write poetry about musty book shops is trite. It may evoke nostalgic feelings of childhood wonder, but then what doesn't? It doesn't make the poem any good. It is trite to write poetry about: sunny days, lost love, the futility of existence, etc, etc. Anything that evokes a sense of nostalgia for childhood is probably a bad poem, simply because the author concentrated on creating a vague longing rather than any actual message. This is good if done properly; however, even though it is usually not done properly, people still clamour about how beautiful it is. Your teachers have probably told you to make it 'real' when you write. How can you make poetry real? By saying the thing you want to say in the most genuine way you can; you should try to be as accurate as possible. Part of being accurate is shedding your set of cosy habits, among which are: the habit of believing your own hype, the habit of clinging on to good first impressions, the habit of believing that rush-of-pleasure-checmical-in-brain = beautiful and right and good and special and wonderful and childlike and a daisy being picked by a three year old in a sun hat who gives it to her mother and they drive to a pool party and laugh and then someone throws a brick at the child's head. I doubt anyone's still reading, but the real point I want to make is this: don't let the desire for good poetry let you believe that bad poetry is good.