I have no deep reason for not posting,just laziness and the bitterness of spending my birthday alone:(. I'm writing a poem about it:).
In reply to the statement,"There's no money in poetry",the poet Robert Frost (The Road Less Travelled) answered "There's no poetry in money",both statements are correct. as a believer in the principle,that the true poet has no choice,to quote Jack Micheline,'poetry gets into your blood like a hurricane,you've got to let it out',then money should not be a motivating factor and will rarely be of consequence.
I doubt that it's pure coincedence,that in the word poverty,you can spell 'poet'. The internet has aided the poet,whilst adding extra weight to their feet. The poet no longer needs to satisfy the prejudices of editors. They can create websites,blogs,hell even magazines and self-publish books(www.lulu.com). This has led to a tsunami of post-modernist beats (of course its poetry,the lines are jagged and it doesn't make sense),which is beginning to make me feel nostalgic for the days when poetry had structure,sonnets etc and rules. maybe poets,like musicians need to practice their scales before they are allowed to improvise.
For an excellent website for all things poetry,especially the business aspect, go to www.emptymirrorbooks.com.
A haiku
door creaks open,
eyes shut hand over ears.
daddy's home early
Economics Of Poetry
Gift The Poetry For The Poetry Is A Gift
It's been a week since my last post. I would claim pressure of work,but we all know that's a lie. I will claim the pressure of poetry. To a women,I never thought I'd see again,I found myself trying to explain something i barely understand and don't wish to. Comprehension of the process,kills the magic and that's where I must live as a poet. All I could say is,how I live and what I do,is the outward expression of an inward philosophy.
Art can only live in a gift economy,I don't mean,or at least,not completely, giving your stuff away but as a spiritual gift. If you have received inspiration from others,then you're honour bound to pass on as teaching that which you've learnt. Giving freely,that which you desperate to receive.
Philosophically,I'm closest to the cynics. A word debased in modern culture.
Don't try
One of the pillars of taoist thought,is the principle of wu-wei,roughly translated as 'effortless action' or 'no action',it can be collaquily understood as 'go with the flow'. it doesn't mean passivity or just sitting on your arse. To exercise wu-wei,means to not force things,to accept that which lies beyond your control but still do the work that meeds to be done.
In Alcoholic Anonymous they have the serenity prayer,'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference'. The English Romantic poet John Keats (see film 'Bright Star'),wrote'If poetry comes not naturally as the leaves to a tree,it had better not come at all'. That's pretty much,where it's at for the poet.
For everything you want to know about hermit sages,forest dwellers and mountain poets, go to www.hermitary.com.
ZEN BANK ROBBER
The zen bank robber,
wears a mask.
it's his original face
before he was born.
Passing a note
over the counter,
She reads it but doesn't understand,
the message is beyond words.
He points to the safe,
but the cashier
can only see his
finger.
multi art tasking
Multi-tasking is an inefficient way of performing mutliple tasks,one at a time is better. Though,it's uneffective in practical matters,artistically it can be inspirational. Though a poet,I listen to jazz and blues,watch fantasy and film noir,look at paintings and modern art. Each art flowing into,feeding off and providing inspiration to each other.
Dali worked with Hitchcock,Tavernier made a 2 hour music video for Dexter Gordon in 'Round Midnight' and Jim Morrison cared more for poetry than music. Music and poetry are natural partners, see Leonard Cohen and the soulf of jazz was revealed in the photography of Herman Leonard. Inspiration lies everywhere,guides are available,as poets were all walking the same path,but its's infinitely diverse,as long or as short as we want it to be. We got lost sometimes,or stuck but just keep shouting,somebody will be along to pull you out.
For a beautifully perverse illustration of gaining inspiration in other thing, go to http://www.myfirstdictionary.blogspot.com/.
NOT ALL PEACE AND QUIET FOR A HERMIT
It's not as peaceful
as you think.
Wind carries the sound
of cars
on the distant road.
Birds sing early
in the morning,
leaves crunch underfoot
as I gather berries and kindling.
the occasional hiker
passes by and says hello.
Fish tails beat the water
as the anglers reel them in.
The kettle whistles
as I brew tea
on the noisy roaring
fire.
Confusion or Perception
Liberating myself from mental slavery,as only myself can free my mind,I meditate on the lives of poet saints,judging them by their actions not by their intentions. Poetry seems to have a mortality rate to match rock music. I've come to the conclusion that if I'd been a poet when younger,instead of a thief,I would not have lived long enough to receive the prison sentence, which arguably saved my life and that character trait which drove me over the counter with a shotgun would have written FIN to my story a lot earlier than it's going to.
I do miss one thing from those days though,the passion I felt,that everything I did mattered,it was literally life or death. If my life and/or poetry is to mean anything,they can be no seperation between what I am and what I do. I don't try to be a poet,I am a poet.
This raises the question,that if my ego is sufficient to know,not believe,know that I am a poet,why write this blog,pay someone to work on a website,plan to publish a collection? Do I need praise/condemnation to re-inforce my self image? If I keep my poetry to myself,am I still a poet or just a self-indulgent poseur masturbating with ink?
Maxwell Jung lived in a cabin in the woods,Bob Kaufman took a vow of silence,Rimbaud stopped at 19 and went to Africa,Jacques Prevel got TB,Georg Trakl killed himself and Maxwell Bodenheim was murdered. Poeta Vagante?
For other hardcore mf'ers http://www.badassoftheweek.com/.
BLUES HERMIT BOOGIE
The way is marked
by a dusty path.
posts stand guard,
gate rots on its hinges.
Behind trees
no forester would touch,
a hut which looks derelict and deserted;
here I live.
A clear lake for fish and bathing,
wood for fire and a little earth to till.
Creatures of the forest are my neighbours,
there's a village nearby but no-one bothers me.
Winters are cold and long,
spring ripe with promise,
summer tastes of strawberries,
autumn tells me it's time to gather in the last of the harvest.
I write poems on leaves
which the winds scatter to the four corners.
It also carries the notes of my harmonica,
I play the Blues Hermit Boogie.
I hear little of my friends,
they're still in the world
and I don't do well there.
I have space for a guest.
Ii start my day with pray and meditation,
a little yoga for the body
and read the words of sages for my soul.
The rest of the day I do what needs to be done.
In the evening,
I eat simple food and drink tea.
I play a little and write a few words,
I finish with pray and meditation.
My name is mostly forgotten and rarely spoken,
I live below the world's radar.
beyond praise and condemnation,
my own and others.
Spices taste bitter on the tongue and silk makes me itch.
Noise and colours deafen and blind me.
Everything costs more than the label says,
let others run in the ratrace for I cannot find my shoes
rambling on sunday
As a long time admirer of bitter misanthropy and cynical assessment of humanity's motivations and future, I have found much to reflect on at http://www.beyond-the-pale-co.uk/.
I've recently been thinking,does the poetry we read,reflect or reinforce the views we possess? Does my street life and criminal past enable me to see something in the works of: Bob Kaufman,Jack Micheline,William Wantling and other poetes maudit, that maybe others cannot see or appreciate? is all art,and the appreciation of art just a matter of opinion? if we have no objective values,what use the asking of and giving of critique.
Interesting but essentially pointless questions, the act of creation is in and of itself sufficient. If dependent on appreciation or even purchase,it's not art. It's something,if poetry merely a phrase,if music noise to quieten the inner voice,painting something to brighten up a dull wall.
APPROVAL
Approval?
It's rare enough
to get a little
acceptance.
Approval
is too much
to ask for.
I'm with the
philosopher Antisthenes:
''All men praise you,Antisthenes''
''Why,what evil have I done?''
tao hobo
I frequently get comments,puzzled and prejorative about my life-style,whilst ,I couldn't, at least at the moment live any other; I guess I understand that it looks like I made a perverse choice(I also think most people doincluding the sensible accountants). In truth,I'm a complete lightweight and as dependent,at least at the moment,on this brutal,unforgiving culture we've created/allowed to develop,as the next wage slave. If people weren't such slobs,and indifferent to their environment, I wouldn't have any bottles to collect and it'll be back to mugging old ladies in the park:).
You want hard-core, check out Daniel suelo at http://www.zerocurrency.blogspot.com/.
Let me leave you with a poem
back again
The poetical process is essentially mystical and should reveal more of the poet, than of their reading,education or erudition. The archetypal jazz,beat, street poet Bob Kaufman,wrote:
THE POET
The blood of the poet
must flow in his poem,
so much so,that others
demand an explanation.
the poet is not to be
explained. It is what it
is;the reality of the poem
cannot be denied.
Are you feeling,the need to cast aside your corrupt capitalist ways and be at one with the grat energy,but don't wish to read dusty,ancient texts? well go over to http://www.dudeism.com/ and find out why,the Big Lebowski,is the man for our time and place. If,on the other hand,you need to express your inner angry redneck,go over to http://www.joebageant.com/ and read the angriest, but smartest redneck of them all.
