After much investigation on the internet,I've come to the inevitable depressing conclusion,we are so fucked. The only question is what's going to get us first:population explosion,global climate change,peak oil or lizards from outer space who come to us by ufos from secret nazi bases on the moon.Putting everyone in workcamps where we will work for the NWO,set up by the Illuminati. Some of us will be saved by the Rapture,which coincedes with the end of the Mayan calender in 2012. There is also the fact,that according to gematria(hebrew numerology) the Iranian Ahmedi what's his name translates as the antichrist.
The true story is a synthesis of different stories,the Mayan calender ends,Quetzacoatl (born in dember of a virgin) returns,Raptures all those who've accepted christ as they personal saviour.Afterwards Lizards travelling from the moon on nazi ufos will take over,this is the Tribulation,before JC comes back and kicks his ass at Megiddo,ushering in the 1000 year reign of christ.
It sounds crazy,but, it all makes sense if do the research.If you tube doesn't convince you,check Wikipedia.
The truly scary thing is,that,I could put that out on a fancy website and more people will be convinced by it,than there are be the peer-reviewed science that tells us,that were running out of everything except troubles. I use the Black Cloud analogy, you see a Black Cloud on the horizon,you find shelter,get out of its path or at least put a rain jacket on. It might dissipate,it might not be as bad as you think,it may even be blown off course,but if you just stand there,you're going to get wet.
If you want more information,or at least get ranted at by someone with more knowledge,or,at least a better prose style,go to www.archdruidreport.blogspot.com
WHO ARE YOU GOING TO CALL?
WHAT HAPPENED TO PROTEST
Bohemia died when all became permitted and they was nothing left to fight against,then maybe capitalism killed rebellion against its excesses,by bringing everyone into the fold and making us co-conspirators in the crime of planetary rape.
You invade a people,steal its resources,turn them into consumer goods for your citizens,where they go for highly prized/priced goods which everyone wants and goes into debt to own,thus putting their lives into the hands of the banks,into essentials. Broadband becomes a right,clean water,you pay extra for;wrapped in plastic.
So,as we demand,newer,faster,cheaper,we become accomplices to genocide. To complain about the 'system',is to be accursed of hypocrisy,as we too use what it provides. Total disengagement,though, is impossible. Go where? Do what? Their own the forests and the trees we came down from a millenia ago.No area of our lives our untouched,no individual,group or nation innocent. Violent protest met with bigger guns,non-violent ignored (facebook groups aren't the revolution).
Looking for leadership/inspiration in the arts,forget poetry. In poetry,it might scare the politicians who give money to the artists they approve of.
WARNING TO THE POET
I said you ripped me off,
"yeah,so what,"
you replied.
"only the early stuff,
which still had balls.
Your latest stuff,
I wouldn't touch
with asbestos gloves."
Promote the work,
don't believe the hype.
Poet quote 'Babies are like poems. They're beautiful to their creator,but to other people they're silly and fucking irritating".Doug Stanhope.
After you've watched William Lane Craig,defend the indefinable, go over to John Loftus http://www.debunkingchristianity.blogspot.com/ and watch this former student of WLC rip it apart.
WHAT DO I WANT FROM POETS/POETRY
I want poetry to be the new rock and roll! I want poets throwing punches at the paparazzi,as they stagger out of nightclubs with young girls. I want a 100,000 people at Roskilde shouting 'EXTRA SONNET EXTRA SONNET' and have banksy stencilling vers libre(free verse) on the walls of corporate headquarters,while poets write haiku on the breasts of groupies.
Poetry should be the art of the dangerous,insane and the sage. It should come withe Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics on the cover. I want parents saying to their children,'why can't you go out with a nice Black Metal guitarist who burns down churches and sacrifices goats to Satan? How can you bring shame on us,by going out with a POET?.
Poets should be on wanted posters and die of auto-erotic asphyixsation. Caroline Lamb,said of Byron,'mad,bad and dangerous to know', I want my poets dead!
Poet quote of the day'poetry should strike the reader as an ordering of his own thoughts and appear almost as a rememberance' John Keats.
No intellectual position is valid if it hasn't at least considered with equal weight both sides of an argument. If you're an atheist,who hasn't engaged with the best Christian apologetics or hold a firm opinion on either side,the you should look at the work of William Lane Craig at www.reasonablefaith.org for the best rational arguments for the indescribable.
What I Want From My Poetry
I try to write,
what all poets try to.
The pure poem!
Untouched by,
obfuscation,deviation or repition.
Words stripped of ulterior motives.
Like a sniper's bullet,
flying high,taking into account all resistance.
Drops,straight through the heart.
HOW TO LIVE YOUR LIFE? DO NOTHING
Even the most irregular and disordered existence,needs a set of guidelines to give it,if not,direction at least form. They abound in sacred text,poetry (if these two aren't the same thing) and cultural mores. Though,there had never been any scientific basis for them,until now. Medical science has now figure out the rules for a happy life and the Protestant Work Ethic,gets busted as the bullshit mythology,I always knew it was. Dr Ray Bennett,in his,'Underachievers Manifesto',gives the rules that gives idleness the respect it deserves. Remember Kids,this is science.
UNDERACHIEVER'S MANIFESTO
1) Lifes too short.
2) Control is an illusion.
3) Expectations lead to misery.
4) Great expectations lead to great misery.
5) Achievement creates expectations.
6) The law of diminishing returns applies everywhere.
7) Perfect is the enemy of good.
8) The tallest blade is sure to be cut.
9) Accomplishment is in the eye of the beholder.
10) Being alive,is your greatest accomplishment.
Two websites that would agree and are enthusiastic apostles of the Apathetic creed are http://www.theidler.co.uk/ and http://www.idlefoundation.com/
Poetry quote of the day,'Poetry is just evidence of life. If your life is burning well,poetry is just the ash' Leonard Cohen.
WRITTEN WHILE WAITING FOR THE KETTLE TO BOIL
The cigarette smoke
in my eyes,
doesn't stop me
from seeing the end of the line.
And the red wine
won't wash away
the newspaper headlines.
Epitaphs on a dead cultures tombstones.
The bankcard
in my wallet,
is only useful
for underlining words in books.
And the medical card
shows an address,
I've not lived at
in two years.
A LONG TIME GONE
It's been a long time since,I've had anything to post. To call poetry a 'Dark Mistress',may be a cliche,but she's certainly an inconsistent/tempremental one. Sometimes the poet might as well hold his penis as his pen,for all the good it will do him. The prose is doing fine,maybe it's sucking the poetry out of me?
Has it run out? Will it come back? have I been rejected from working on short stories and the novels? Am I being fanciful,treating it as a human being with feelings? Isn't poetry like all art about feelings?
Poet quote of the day' He who would not be frustrate of his desire to write a great poem,should first of all BE a poem'John Keats
I need my misanthropy with a punchline as well as a point. No one does it better than Doug Stanhope,so go to www.dougstanhope.com, for an intro to the master.
REQUEST TO A POET
Poet,
don't give me your poems.
They're no good to me.
I want your rage,
your anger,
you're desperate foolish love.
Can I hear your sigh,
your laughter;
your warm breath on the back of my neck?
Will I be able to follow,
your tracks on a distant shore,
as you stumble through the Hall of Mirrors?
Do others speak your name,
do their snarl when it's spoken.
Will I hear of you before we meet?
Is the paper stained with blood,
greasy with sweat?
The ink runs,watered by tears.
NO?
Poet,
keep your poems.
You're no good to me!
Leave Me Alone,I'm Trying To Write:)
Thank God for the holidays,and the weather getting better,for I need solitude and nature for the recovery of my wallet and liver as well as the tranquility needed for those thoughts which I cannot,will not deny. Is it unreasonable to expect appreciation for your honesty,which equals the disgust,expressed at that which is expressed? No,I doubt it. The voices in my head and I,are getting tired of each other and it's time to let the dogs out.
Light A Candle
An urban vulture,
hovers as prey gathers.
Just talking to people.
Night ripped by sound:
Sirens desperate race against time,
Friends scream at discovery,
A mother cries.
Blood washes out,
burns clothes in the forest.
This never happened.
I draw sad eyes,
on a face in the paper.
I feel like I know her,
sad to die so young.
Tears on a grave,
the death of a maiden.
Warm summer rain.
Poet quote comes from Yevgeny Yevtushenko,'a poets autobiography is his poetry. Anything else is just footnotes.
Getting Out of The Garret
I wonder,if the fact that I've now decided to stop ignoring the urge to write,and my increasing sociability are connected? Not being generally regarded by most who know me as the most gregarious of men,down right misanthropic,I've probably spoken to more people and more interesting people since I started to write than I have for a long time.
I write,in public,since an unusual thing to do,people frequently,come up to me and ask what,I'm doing. The secret,is that I'm using an old-school pen and paper.A laptop says,go away,a pen and paper is old fashioned,and old fashioned,doesn't tell you to get lost.
I spent sunday evening,talking with a priest(casper),about poetry,music,god,football. He just had to know,what I was doing. This most solitary of arts,has,paradoxically,began to turn me into the most social of people.
NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THE HOBO GOES
A bad night out,
lightning illuminates the sky.
I see the way ahead.
It's a cold wind
and hard rain falling.
Smoked the last cigarette,
an hour ago.
Snow bends branches,
in the distance a light.
I just walk on.
Tracks covered up
and rain fills bootmarks.
Nothing passed by here,
Hobo in the snow.
Body heat falls,
with every drink taken.
Dead in the snow.
Poet quote of the day comes from Thomas Macauley,'Perhaps,no person can be a poet,or even enjoy poetry without a certain unsoundness of mind'
