Lets say, that I always considered that poetry is for faggots. Being such a meat head, that I really couldn't get myself to read any poetry, since I always associated it with:
1) girl romantic sobbing
2) emo boys
Well, live and learn, when you think of it, if you can actually appreciate lyrics of songs, how different is poetry in the end? It all comes down to actually finding the poets who you actually connect in some ways. There are some. But lets not spill the whole wad at once, and I'll just say this one first:
KAARLO KRAMSU
When name has been said, I'm sure that 100% of those who read this message will say "who?". And it is valid question. I had wanted this book of his called "runoelmia" for long time. I knew him simply based on study I did for the Grunt "petturien rooli" album. I knew that his work was considered to be one of the darkest and desperate texts in Finnish poetry. His career started in about 1855. First own book in 1878. About 100 years before I was born. Still I see that many of these texts are not only something I can personally connect, but also vital in world of today.
My version of the book "Runoelmia" is 4th print from 1948, and despite they all had same title, content is different. This could be maybe considered to be the essentials of his creations. The very early school years poetry has been left out, as has been his latest works done during times when he was plagued by mental disease, and eventually died in mental institute.
In the poems, you feel the misery of man, who is awaken by nationalistic spirit, but can't see the response in nation in its current state. He struggles against the corruption, shackles forced by men in power, he finds the glory in triumph or sacrifice, not in dormant state of indifference. But despite his yearning for something higher and noble, he finds no peace. He finds his glory from blood on battlefields of wasted life for ideal that was never possible and what was never shared by folk who inhabit the romanticized state. Which, for those who don't know, wasn't independent state on his time.
Poems can't be translated on english with my skill. You can't translate the poetic text of past centuries into english form that would awake the feelings. But perhaps some Finns on this board will take my advice and grab this. If guys of Lapuan Liike were happy enough to quote his poems as one of their motto's, it can't be too bad.
Kauniimpi orjan elämää on kuolo hirsipuussa
Ei oikeutta maassa saa, ken itse sit' ei hanki
Poems like "Heräämätön" about dormant state of Finland sleeping over its decay is something very emotional.
And "Unelma", fuck, it simply describes about all of what I have just said in ten verses. It's a song what was never made.
When I say, that I bought this, I actually didn't. I walked to antique book store, and told what I was looking for, and the guy gave it to me free. He was confident NOBODY at this day and age would want it. And he gave it to the one guy who did, free of charge.
I love good poetry. Been only getting into it in the last couple of years but I've never considered poetry "for fags" (maybe I'm a fag myself?). I've used poetry in recordings I've made: Robert Frost's "Ice And Fire" features on a spiral I've recorded -
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Straight up, simple words that say so much to me, about complete, annihilating hatred towards everything.
I've also used passages from Milton's ultra-classic "Paradise Lost"; there's material in that to satisfy the hardest of haters -
What fear we then? What doubt we to incense
His utmost ire? Which to the height enrag'd
Will either quite consume us, and reduce
To nothing this essential, happier far
Than miserable to have eternal being:
Or if our substance be indeed Divine,
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven,
And with perpetual inroads to Alarm,
Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne:
Which if not Victory, is yet Revenge.
And let's not forget the poetry of The Bible; read "Job" just for the writing.
God hath delivered me to the ungodly,and turned me over to the hands of the wicked. I was at ease, but he hath broken me asunder: he hath also taken me by my neck, and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for his mark. His archers compass me round about, he cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; he poureth out my gall upon the ground. He breaketh me with breach upon breach, he runnet upon me like a giant. I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and defined my horn in the dust. My face is foul with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death; not for any injustice in mine hands: also my prayer is pure. O earth, cover not thou my blood, and le my cry have no place.
Pure, ruinous depression rendered in immortal lines right there. Of course, for those who's first language is not English, all this could well be just a jumble of words.
Any poetry, by right, should be read aloud to get the full feeling and power within it. Reading poetry is great but hearing it recited, or reciting it yourself, is better. You get the full force of what's being meant from the verbal use of words.
I did release ARMON KUILU "s/t" 12"/mCD. See: www.cfprod.com/TSL
This group is born from ashes of Unburied, which was a doom/death/black band in 1992, then very quickly shifted into pure experimental music. When there was nothing anymore that really connected it to what it was over 15 years ago, name was changed. Vinyl is pretty much gone. Anyone into getting it, I can arrange some copies back from band. mCD is cheap and available. It is packaged in same way as the 12". While 12" was in regular b/w sleeve with 7" full color booklet, the disc has the same 7" booklet and the disc is packaged in cardboard sleeve inside it. So basically identical shrinked version.
Anyways, my point of saying about it in this topic, is that while they went through all the effort to have acoustic instruments really played (as opposed to keyboards trying to imitate them), also for vocal performance was hired this local old guy who is poetry reader. I mean in public, with strong, deep old mans hoarse voice. When you hear those apocalyptic lines of destruction of world, and it's not whiny teenboy squeeling like indie rocker, but man who has seen most of his life by now, with consumed and damaged voice.... It is just beyond the usual.
mCD available for trade, wholesale, whatever. Simply out of awe, I pressed both vinyl and CD, and pressed way too many for me to handle. Just one of those things one needs to do. Even if it sold well, it seems hard task to really recommend this obscurity to anyone.
Is TSL still a going concern? Got the impression from the website that there's only the one release.
It continues when I have other things what can be filed under: exceptional, artistic, natural, noble. I have some ideas. Musically they may be total opposites. It is possible this label is used as outlet of airing out some my desires of ultimate special packaged releases, which may not fit into FA's concept. There has been discussion with couple artists.
I also had problems getting into poetry for a long time. For very different reasons than Mikko, though. It just seemed difficult to enjoy such short (not always, of course) pieces of writing. I would be finished with reading the poem and just wonder if that was it. It took some time to develop an understanding on how to read poems, something I don't think I've quite mastered yet. For example, I've always been quite into Beat literature and related stuff. Kerouac, Burroughs, Gysin and so on. But I couldn't really appreciate the poets of that era, Corso, Ginsberg, Ferlinghetti etc. Slowly I'm starting to find the attraction also there, even though it's still easier for me to find the beauty in Gysin's cut-ups than in more traditional poetry.
One Finnish poet I've been reading lately is J. K. Ihalainen. His style is somehow related to the Beats but retains a specific Finnish outsider flavour. He also has a superb voice, unfortunately many of the recordings I've heard by him include sub-standard beat-oriented background muzak. People with great voices like him (Burroughs comes to mind) are best experienced without any stupid backing music. He did do one great track (Alkuasukas, "Aboriginal") with Finnish hip-hop artist Asa where the music actually works extremely well with his recital. He has done also some stuff in English, here are examples:
Patriotparrots flagging bonezones
Surviving sailors of paradise ports
Sad men vomiting distant dreams
Salty skin shining with dark moon
Sparks of stars through the clouds
and
We are plants
poisons
for daily life
we are bullets
as fast as slow
we are banshees
among blue
sparkling fogs
We are earth
we inhabit the
underterrestial
uraniumplanetary
libraries
building up
the installations
of complete
scorpionlandscapes
for uneasy
masters
of insomnia
From the web-pages of his small publishing company Palladium Books (www.palladiumkirjat.fi (http://www.palladiumkirjat.fi)).
Hard to write about subject in English, as it's too close and personal, dealing with language and emotional reactions. I really don't care about modern poetry where affective content is reduced to word-games and playing intertextuality to boast the the so-called intellectuality of the writer. After some wasted semesters with wanna-be critics and poetry faggots, don't get me started.
I can second Kaarlo Kramsu recommendation wholeheartedly, one of the greatest Finnish poets in my opinion - in his famous works the language is very strong and themes are grim.
There can be found link to V.A. Koskenniemi (1885-1962), who was also eager admirer of Kramsu. Like Kramsu his works soaked in pessimism, both cultural and personal. This was common in the early 1900's among educated elite - he was a professor and an academic rector in Turku university. Cultural elitist to the core, despising the bourgeoisie mass.
He was convinced that Oswald Sprengler was right in "The Decline of the West". Western world was declining (or reaching the end its arch). Koskenniemi saw the reason in democracy, communism and liberalism. He looked for the answer for the new culture from the Germany and Italy and actively promoted German culture during the 1930-40's in Finland. After the WWII he still remained as a highly respected yet criticized academic.
His works is vast collection of texts and full of appreciation of Greek and German high culture (with lots of influence from Goethe; tragic style and content). If this isn't readers interest, it takes some effort to find more interesting themes.
Koskenniemi didn't hide his hostility against communists, openly supporting revenge against the left-wing after 1918. The more militant works of Koskenniemi, like "Nuori Anssi" could be easily read together with "Petturien rooli", like "Nuori Anssi" or "Hannu". The civil war is described as purification of the unwanted guests, flooding the fields and forests with traitor blood, eternal battle against the devil from the east etc. Also texts known from military marches like "Nuijamiesten marssi":
Meill' on hanki ja jää, meill' on halla ja yö,
meill' on ankarat käskyt kohtalon.
Kenen kerran nuijamme maahan lyö,
se maassa on.
On meidät vihurit valinneet,
yöt meille salansa uskoneet,
on antanut hukka hampahansa
ja ilves varmimman katseistansa.
Meill' on halla ja yö, meill' on hanki ja jää
pelätkää, pelätkää!
PEople in Finland who may have listened some of the old wartime kupletti & iskelmä songs as well as old radio transmissions etc, know this character PALLE. Besides the humorous things, he was also part of the state of Finland propaganda ministry in 2nd world war, doing songs to lift spirit of soldiers, some humoristic, some just violent and dark. Infamous "between the eyes of russ", just extremely repetative songs about shooting russian soldiers (with abusive slag word) between eyes with rifle. Well, most of the songs were banned after war. He did songs for IKL's Mustan Karhun Yhtye (orchestra of black bear) including mustapaitojen marssi (march of the blackshirts).
Anyways, about direct, straight foward poetry, he also used alias REINO HIRVISEPPÄ. I got this book from 1940, called Isänmaa (fatherland), and it is non-stop gunfire of patriot poetry published during the wartime. Essential reading. It would be very good lyrical source, with many values. State of mind during turbulent decades, professional artistic writing. And, also harnessing art for state propaganda.
Harm is the norm.
Doom will not jam.
- Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin
The best poetry sometimes needs no comment.
Of course, Nabokov is less known for his poetry than his prose (Lolita), from which with apologies the above is taken. But all great literature reads like poetry, not least because it is characterized by the same two principles: metaphor and repetition. Metaphor and repetition may take myriad form, some more obvious than others. But without either, the words are rarely worth the bandwidth they occupy.
You are what you learn to be
I surround myself with things that look like me
- Michael Gira, poet
The distance between poetry and lyrics is often negligible. I'm forced also to include the prose rants Keith Brewer, say, might publish in his liner notes. All read very much like poetry.
I've said that what elevates words is the use of metaphor and repetition. Where the latter goes without saying, when it comes to lyrics, the former is often lacking. But this is as much function of format as it is popular preference.
Nevertheless. Some lyricists deserve more recognition as writers, or poets, than others. Gira has often said he's a writer first and a musician second. This may be true of all the best lyricists, but Gira has delivered (and recorded) spoken word pieces taken verbatum from SWANS lyrics. And delivered with consummate artistry.
You are what you learn to be
I surround myself with things that look like me
This seems a perfect encapsulation, and condemnation, of all things poetic, and all things in general. For all our talk, as sound purveyors (or whatever), of seeking to challenge ourselves, to go deep, to go beyond, to progress, it seems clear that challenge is the last thing we want for ourselves. What we want is reinforcement. What we want is to read people who ARE us, or who are as indistinguishable as possible from us. We are in love with ourselves, in lust with ourselves, have sick fetish for ourselves...
...and forums like this are living proof...
...of a chickenshit desire to surround myself with things that look like me.
I take it with me to my grave
I take it with me to my grave
I take it with me to my grave
(Gira)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWStaRmuXzY (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWStaRmuXzY)
i think this is what convinced me :
I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—
Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom
III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.
IV
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
V
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
-T.S. Elliot
T.S. Elliot, the name you always heard, but the stuff, I never wanted to read (see opening message). But it is easy to see how it could have been necessary. I took lesson through finnish wikipedia article about his works and its meaning. Indeed, I guess I finally should continue with few more things on plan of "educating about classics". I can't believe I spent over 30.. 40 minutes of watching some Bam Margera visiting Finland on TV... While being annoyed during whole time, underlining my disgust on modern TV culture. That guy should be beaten up, badly. Of course, when it was more about doing it while eating, but nevertheless, perhaps there would have been something (=anything) more worthwhile.
The thing about "the classics" is that they're often remembered for a reason. There was a time when, to write poetry and be remembered for it, you actually had to be good. In these culturally egalitarian days, of course, anyone can write poetry.
http://www.teenangstpoetry.blogspot.com/ (http://www.teenangstpoetry.blogspot.com/)
I see no one has mentioned Bukowski. I felt pretty much like Mikko about it until I was given one of his books in the mid-80s. I remember becoming a bit jaded as he steadily gained popularity and bands like the Red Hot Chili Peckers started name dropping him in songs, but I guess that comes with the territory. Still, poems about drinking, whores, fighting and street life never go out of style.
The documentary "Born Into This" is well worth watching. Classic scene of him getting pissed and slightly violent with his wife.
A friend sent me a tape of his readings once. Sounded almost like comedy, in his delivery. Sadly I don't have the tape any more. I seem to recall a lot of "then she said...so then I said...so then she said...".
Yeah, Bukowski was probably the first poet I truly enjoyed as a youngster. Straightforward, hard-hitting, no-bullshit stuff. But after a while it got a bit repetitive, at that time I got more interested in his novels. I should maybe revisit some of that stuff, haven't done that in ages. By the way, I just noticed that www.bukowski.net (http://www.bukowski.net) has a very nice database of scanned manuscripts from him, letters and poems.
Yea, he can get very repetitive for sure and I'll admit preferring his prose to the poetry, but a lot of his poetry reads like prose. I definitely prefer the earlier stuff, when he was young and hungry. I've bought a few of his posthumous anthologies and they just aren't that great. One I remember reading was from pages found in boxes stuffed in a closet. If the man thought they weren't worthy, why print them? And the letters collection? Talk about flogging a dead horse.
This pretty much does it for me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVGoY9gom50
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJDV9z8XvEo&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FihYsCy9x8A&feature=related
I love how he totally nails modern society
As far as i remember there exist a better more monotonous recording that ends up sounding almost psychedelic
Check Fernando Pessoa, one my of my favourites writters
I'll do a more complete post after work.
fernando pessoa is definitely worth checking out. one of the best in a land of poets.
other portuguese worth checking out include cruzeiro seixas, mário cesariny, herberto hélder and many more
most of my favourites fit somehow in the portuguese surrealism movement in literature and painting
not sure if any of these are translated though
top reference portuguese publishing house for national and foreign poetry here,
http://www.assirio.pt/
http://assirioealvim.blogspot.com/
I will check out those Finnish poets mentioned in this topic, seemed very interesting. Hate to say the same thing, but I also find Pessoa and Bukowski very inspiring poets. I first read Bukowski novels, but the poems really blew my mind. I like decadent poetry quite a lot, Paul Verlaine for example is a great pick. Francois Villon is also a great peot from France. Mostly middle age ballads, but yet so damn in your face.
http://dillsnapcogitation.wordpress.com/2008/04/27/aleister-crowleys-white-stains-seminal-hidden-poetry/ (http://dillsnapcogitation.wordpress.com/2008/04/27/aleister-crowleys-white-stains-seminal-hidden-poetry/)
(http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m13xcoTaol1qb05avo1_500.jpg)
(http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m140cyJjH51qb05avo1_500.jpg)
(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m140dnzyHC1qb05avo1_400.jpg)
I've loved reading and writing poetry for a long time. It hasn't been updated for a while, but I used to post all of my writing here (http://steffanrost.blogspot.com) Use a lot of it for spoken word things and what not, in recordings and live.
Big fan of Bukowski, Pasolini, Swinburne, and Wes Eisold. Also dig some of the beat stuff. Robert Browning is amazing too, check out Porphyria's Lover. http://www.bartleby.com/101/720.html (http://www.bartleby.com/101/720.html)
When it comes to poetry, of course my favorite is anything by Khalil Gibran.
Also, Reprobate, I would agree with you fully on Wes Eisold, even his lyrics are more poetic if anything.
I gotta say that Mr. Vilk kills it with the use of "And Soft Rains Will Come" on Every Knee Shall Bow. Incredible way to finish that massive disc.
Yeah, I'd have to say it's because of him and American Nightmare and his Deathbeds book that I even really got into poetry. And Cold Cave is amazing. Fuck the haters.
I've heard some Nyodene D. I really dig it. I like the CMI sound and the lyrics are great.
Couldn't really live without Baudelaire, Rimbaud, and Lautreamont. There are plenty of other poets who's work I admire but those are the (horribly stereotypical) three.
Quote from: FreakAnimalFinland on December 18, 2009, 10:18:07 PM
Lets say, that I always considered that poetry is for faggots. Being such a meat head, that I really couldn't get myself to read any poetry, since I always associated it with:
1) girl romantic sobbing
2) emo boys
That's how I always felt about Poetry. Was never a huge fan, I'm still not really a big fan to this day. If you can find some of Viscount Wilmot's poems from his later years those are pretty good for what they are (I think he is refereed to as a "Libertine Poet").
Most of the poetry I read is from Crowley, like the
"Book of Lies" which also contains a lot of practical advice on Ceremonial Magick and mysticism. And plenty of other Crowley stuff is very amusing and good:
When Celia cums, 'tis earthquake hour
The bed vibrates like kettledrums
It is a grand display of power
when Celia cums.
When Celia farts, my hasty nose
Sniffs up the fragrance from her parts
Shamed are the violets and rose
when Celia farts.
Quote from: RyanWreck on April 13, 2012, 06:43:53 PM
And plenty of other Crowley stuff is very amusing and good:
When Celia cums, 'tis earthquake hour
The bed vibrates like kettledrums
It is a grand display of power
when Celia cums.
When Celia farts, my hasty nose
Sniffs up the fragrance from her parts
Shamed are the violets and rose
when Celia farts.
Crowley pretty much plagiarised that stuff from Jonathan Swift 'The Lady's Dressing Room' - http://www.potw.org/archive/potw158.html
SUICIDE
ABCDEFG
HIJKLMN
OPQRST
UVWXYZ
by Louis Aragon
I wrote a book of poetry that I'm going to publish pretty soon.
A Very Tall Building
I'm at the top of a very tall building,
I am very high up,
I'm looking down,
But not really,
I'm lost,
But it's very obvious where I am,
I'm lost but it's very obvious where I am,
My eyes briefly come into focus, but it passes,
I let myself sway a little then stop,
I climbed up here without thinking,
Wanted to see the world!
But I'm not really interested,
My head bobs as I think,
As though I'm counting,
Or working myself up for something...
I want something to lean against,
I could jump,
That would be silly,
It is silly, daring myself like that,
I am utterly aimless.
This is the last poem i wrote.
My book's out!! It's called Suspend and is published under the pseudonym Hister Grant.
Please check it out!!
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Suspend-Hister-Grant/dp/1524597945/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1487934362&sr=8-1&keywords=hister+grant
Quote from: bitewerksMTB on April 13, 2012, 02:30:28 AM
I hate poetry. Write a poem about junkmetal, mountain biking, murder, outlaw motorcycles gangs, gangbangs, guns, & prostitutes and I will still hate it.
Oh my beloved lady of the night
Would it be alright
If I might
Take you to the gangbang tonight
Upon my trusty mountain bike?
Which even the most outlaw of motorcycle gangs
Dare not gainsay
Oh, I would that you would say
On this day
"Okay"
And with me come away
For there is murder to be done
Which is always much more fun
When, with full mettle
We use junk metal
My precious little petal
And maybe my gun.
Quote from: Andrew McIntosh on February 24, 2017, 03:15:12 PM
Quote from: bitewerksMTB on April 13, 2012, 02:30:28 AM
I hate poetry. Write a poem about junkmetal, mountain biking, murder, outlaw motorcycles gangs, gangbangs, guns, & prostitutes and I will still hate it.
Oh my beloved lady of the night
Would it be alright
If I might
Take you to the gangbang tonight
Upon my trusty mountain bike?
Which even the most outlaw of motorcycle gangs
Dare not gainsay
Oh, I would that you would say
On this day
"Okay"
And with me come away
For there is murder to be done
Which is always much more fun
When, with full mettle
We use junk metal
My precious little petal
And maybe my gun.
ha ha! still gay!
Could someone here recommend a english translation of 'flowers of evil'? I have several poetry books to buy and for majority I know what to get but this one eludes me.
Quote from: F_c_O on February 24, 2017, 11:00:56 PM
Could someone here recommend a english translation of 'flowers of evil'? I have several poetry books to buy and for majority I know what to get but this one eludes me.
in uk, penguin publications are generally well regarded and easy to get
wow, this poetry corner is great.
my finger smells bad
I stuck it in a dead girl's arse
serves me right.
it tastes awful as well.
not so much a haiku as a fuk u
Quote from: david lloyd jones on March 01, 2017, 07:56:58 PM
Quote from: F_c_O on February 24, 2017, 11:00:56 PM
Could someone here recommend a english translation of 'flowers of evil'? I have several poetry books to buy and for majority I know what to get but this one eludes me.
in uk, penguin publications are generally well regarded and easy to get
I believe I have the Penguin edition of Flowers of Evil and, if I remember well, is pure shit compared to the common Italian editions. Actually I believe I have a "Selected Verses" but whatever.
A narrative Poem:
Ted Bundy
Shifts in his chair
Eyeing the wall
He imagines
She's totally passive
Unresisting
'Thanks Ted'
She says
He looks at her
He rubs at a tooth
With his tongue
Holding her tight
Staring into her face
He looks up
At her centre parting
Just like Elizabeth
Her eyes fixed and glassy
He peers into them
She turns her back on him
Putting things into a bag
She is his
He owns her
She turns back around
'See you Ted'
'That's right sweetie
I'll beat this'
It's not that I dislike poetry or the people who enjoy it, but I've never grown into the habit of reading it regularly. I don't know how to distinguish a bad poem from a good one.
Once in a blue moon I read Samuel Beckett's How It Is, which is basically a 220 page prose poem about a person crawling through mud in absolute darkness. Forever. A total laugh riot, as I am sure you can imagine. At first the garbled language (with no punctuation or capitalization) seems almost meaningless, but if you stick with it some kind of patterns and meanings seem to emerge.
I've been getting Hiroshima Yeah Zine over the last year, it was mainly to read Gary Simmons reviews which like. There is loads of poetry in there too by Simmons and Mark Richie. It comes around once a month, but I am increasingly enjoying the poetry. Cool Thread.
Hiroshima Yeah - donbirnam@hotmail.com
"Help my crushing soul sleep
While all around me rainbows burn
Silent are the birds in every meadow"
...
By JUju
https://tyrannichorizon.bandcamp.com/album/raft-of-roses
Incoming TH release -
(https://i.imgur.com/nwS9y8e.jpg?1)
Not really sure how anyone could discount poetry after reading Rimbaud or Plath or whatever, not to mention songwriting is essentially just poetry writing to a rhythm.
I don't keep up with contemporary poetry much, I have my old favorites. But I do have a recommendation.
Moor Mother. Moor Mother is a poet by trade but has gotten underground famous for her musical project that sees her utilizing harsh industrial noise influenced beats over which she can espouse a visceral brew of system indicting rage. It might not be to everyone here's liking but here is a lyrical sample from her track "Creation Myth:"
No hope for the dead battered in their coffins (?)
A new type of happiness
A black happiness that's filled with grief
Somehow ending up at a portal in time
(?) nothing else no mind
Just the innate wiring of your DNA
The process of your chromosomes
Systematically forming to prevent ones own annihilation
I mean extermination