poetry is: what is poetry?
once perusing through
19th century poems...
the claustrophobia of rhymes -
measures - how unlike the gay science
of spontaneity - collages -
i could never write you a sonnet -
there's no: 'shall i compare you to
a summer's day'?
i can't do that...
i don't like boxes...
sure: a practical triangle,
some moving geometry -
but all these pedagogic infantalism
of a poem?
poo'em none the less!
Li Po tried... and he tried enough...
soon enough he became tired,
started drinking vinegar-aftertaste wine
and contemplated:
why is the moon... the same size
as the sun? up there, in the sky?
modern ref.: if you're not
the youtuber weimar republic miss
congeniality i.e. critical condition?
i guess making videos can become really
tedius...
i don't mind looking at a photograph
someone took of me:
but the sound of my voice irritates me...
i could never: video myself
to a larger audience...
poetry: that something between
a journalistic column and the breathing
space and mindful optics moving
away from the congested paragraph
of fiction and...
puppets - character studies...
this? this is more a narrator study...
is there one? are there two?
and if so (of the latter) -
where are the identifier break-points?!
- oh no! jean-paul sartre didn't rip off
james joyce's Ulysses ending in:
Iron in the Soul...
n'ah... that didn't happen...
besides...
language: less a tool and more:
a curator...
i don't exactly think that i use language...
i am curated by language...
in a democracy this can and ought to happen,
forgive me for not trying
out exploring the next pop-sensation
archetype narrative -
some things are worth
the attention of a global audience...
some... nieche fetishes...
which translates into the music
i listen to...
i try to keep it libra focused...
FILMMAKER - DRAINVOID (album)
24,180 views... it is music, and it is therefore
a passive ingestion... there are no itchy fingers
on the other end of two peering eyes
reading in the silence of the mind -
or... out-loud...
i have to admit... guilty! guilty as charged!
i did once spike the view count
on TREVOR SOMETHING - INTO YOUR HEART...
shared the link on several social media
platform... i'm pretty sure the view count
wasn't above 1 million... when i first came
across it... eh... roughly 400K...
Δ scheme...
against stereotypes: as a man i should have
been a painter...
man: the cliché of a visual creature...
i beg to differ...
there is painting in poetry...
what am i using, after all? x-ray |||| matchsticks...
there is painting in poetry -
but it is so... faint...
imagine as i imagined going to a night-club
to lose my head my feet hands and heart
when a decent song would come on...
as they turned on the strobe light...
that's how poetry encompasses painting:
via the strobe "technique"...
it's a flash - a snippet -
a raping pulverised instance...
and suddenly it's gone...
then it appears once more... but as a different
image... and then it's gone...
at least with painting you can sit and ponder...
become a art history major or an art critique...
spew verbiage like cream oozing out of
a chocolate éclair...
fair enough: take your time...
but... strobe light painting in poetics...
switchonswitchoff momentum...
it's never something in front of you...
a canvas...
a wall it hangs on...
the grand gallery...
or a museum... where poetry does not:
except if the gallery is the mind...
and its mobile, and all the more organic...
between you and me...
its history is not history per se -
it's etymology... and believe me...
what darwinism / the big bang did to history?
it will never do to etymology...
and i recommend the latter variant
of history... it's so more indefinite...
there's no concrete year month day debate
pedantry...
everything revolves in circa cycles...
esp. given what darwinism did to history...
even if i mentioned philip II augustus
of the capetian dynasty...
history these days is...
something vageuly borrowed from the 20th century,
the end of the 20th century...
and the everyday 21st century bollocks...
the discovery of the Higgs Boson didn't
make an indentation worthy of a week...
let alone a month...
i'm not even going to list the mediocre
instances of pop culture that did...
point being: for petty fame and
all the journalistic hyena attention:
putting your head above the trench?
it's not really worth it...
after all... we're not talking about journalists
like Marie Colvin... Bob Woodward & Carl Bernstein...
dittohead anchors - tabloid spew-bitches
and their paparazzi gimps...
if the paper quality was more
than it already is... i'd switch from buying toilet
paper and wipe my ass with the tabloids...
but i can't even do that... they'd make my ass bleed!
15 minutes of: yeah, superficial fame...
fame for fame per se's sake...
not fame out of: inventing a fucking lightbulb...
it's a tier system monopoly...
vanity fair beyond comprehension
of what a 19th century social climber would look like...
these days i don't even know what
fame or seeking fame implies -
every time someone outside a specified
narrative becomes famous -
he or she are only becoming infamous...
which... starts to overshadow the sort of people
who become famous via infamy -
oh you know, the usual suspects:
ted bundy, ed gein... the list is too long...
i guess like Madonna - you have to pay a lot
of money to remain relevant...
in the end... death will be the judge of that.