Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Thursday, February 04, 2016

Roses Are.

See, perfect example. The above has all the earmarks (or hallmarks?) of a "modern poem."

* mostly prose
* novelty line breaks
* subtle if any rhyme

This gives your verse an incredible amount of loose, groovy freedom - but WARNING! It does NOT make poetry writing EASIER! If anything, the lack of a safety net, the lack of even a force of gravity to pull you down, keep you grounded, be able to tell up versus down even - the lack of all that restraint and equipment basically frees you to FAIL, if you're not careful. Most modern poetry is a perfect example. Mine, just right up above us there - well, admittedly, less so. Far short of a perfect example of that sort of thing.

That's the risk you take. Free verse is for REALS, yo.

I just wanted to point that out, because sometimes people are like "This museum piece looks like my special needs kindergartener's imaginary BLIND FRIND took a SHIT on a NAPKIN and slapped it up on the refridgerator like the proverbial asshole sittin' in Pie Corner with plumbs on his thumbs." That's pretty much a cliché, in the red-blooded just-us-folks world of art critique, in these days, ever since they finally gave up on the sort of progress that had been captivating snoots for a while by then. You look at some free-form MASTERPIECE and go "SHIT! I could do that without even WANTING to." But it's just as important to note - the same thing applies in poetry! It's just poetry never had a chance to get bastardized by the Modernist Hijack so bad, because poetry wasn't in competition with photography the same way painting was. Fine arts painting basically felt itself threatened, grew desperate, freaked out like a SPAZZ into a corner and DIED there, trying to find even one decent plump remnant wedged into a beveled aluminum crease of a by-then-long-since way-too-picked-over PIE PLATE.

And let me tell you. There is nothing inspirational about the wafting aroma of the curdles and scrapes and streaks of remains of purple-pulped pie juice that looks and smells like it has been sitting out in a room-temperature room since the beginnings of the ends of days. Bacteria, mold - you name it. And yeast trying trying to eat what's left of the sugar, but there's not even enough moisture left in it for poor little mister yeast to shit out a proper alcohol molecule as a by-product! Art, basically, became spoiled and so I just wanted to make sure you're aware of the pitfalls - the same thing hasn't QUITE happened to poetry yet, so be careful, but have fun. Just make sure you're not the one to fuck up poetry for EVERYONE TO COME GENERATIONS AFTER.

There's no Nobel Prize for that.


Mel said...

... I just wanted to make sure you're aware of the pitfalls ...

Thank you. You can't be too careful in this time of spiritual decadence, it's why we need a poet like you to injure us with the visions of possibility.

dogimo said...

Well, "inure" technically, but the inoculation might indeed "hurt a bit."

Of course, when the patient's a poet too, every inure is an injury. We seem to be wearing the same hat.

Mel said...

Indeed we are. Literally.

dogimo said...

Looks like the light looks slightly different from where you're sitting under it though!

Mel said...

True. I think the generally-accepted label on the colour palette for your particular glow is Santa Cruz Gold. For my old school Nokia shade of luminescence, the term that springs to mind is Bilious Green.

dogimo said...

I say lay the blame on the photographer!

Mel said...

So do I!

I say blame the photographer when they capture a time so wonderful it physically pains me to look on the image and realise that moment can never be repeated.

And further to that;

I say blame the songwriter for weaving words so lyrical I cry.

I say blame the writer for penning a captivating novel and then it having to end.

I say blame the painter for creating with only brush strokes and blank canvas a landscape I want to live in.

I say blame the curator for museums.

I say blame the singer for making it seem so effortless.

I say blame the sculptor for busts because decapitated heads.

I say blame the mime because it's always the quiet ones.

dogimo said...

I say blame the diplomat for making war seem like the better option!

I say blame the politician for getting everyone to agree to do it poorly for the "greater good."

I say blame the revolutionary for throwing out not just the bathwater and baby but the whole tub! Tubs are for lazing and soaking in, not for abolishing in the staunch belief of better tubs to come.

I say blame the friend for making you miss their absence, the attractive person for making you feel so keenly the lack, and above all blame the love of one's life for needlessly imperiling it. Or needfully. Either way really: can't escape the blame.

Blame the superhero for opening the villain's eyes to what's possible, of what had previously always been impossible.

Blame God for teaching every living human at infancy the universal goodness of peekaboo, and then expecting adults to be satisfied with about that level of interaction as adults.

Blame the devil for whatever it made you do.

Blame your guardian angel for everywhere it made you hesitate - and for each consequent loss.

Blame culture for taboos! Blame the perversity of human nature for your reckless violations thereof! Blame artifice for how well we wish to come off, and nature for everywhere we fail to see the prim path of manners in time to avoid the gaffe in others' eyes!

Blame Pepsi for making Coke taste so damn good.

But it's a fallacy that we need dark to love light. Or need wrong to appreciate right. We do not need evil to appreciate good - only to appreciate the distinction between them. It's a fallacy that this adds anything good to our appreciation of good. At best, it's a very poor method to induce gratitude by contrasts - but it's possible to reach an even fuller gratitude from excess. Trust me there.

For all of the above, where there is fault it is mine alone. I blame myself and own my flaws. Where there is truth, though, I must disclaim ownership.

It's to no one's credit where they happen to agree with truth.

Mel said...

I blame the industrial revolution for my job.

I blame feminism for the client who called and told me he “just wants justice for men”. Also for this I’m looking at you, patriarchy. I hold you both responsible.

I blame the curvature of the earth for the horizon.

I blame sentience for ennui and ennui for malaise.

I blame the justice system for being a legal system, for which I blame the judiciary, for which I blame the legislators.

I blame my brother when asked because he started it! Mostly.

dogimo said...

I blame you for how I feel about you, me for how I feel towards you, both of us for the converse and each of us for the opposite!

Say, "Roses Are" is a pretty neat title for a post huh?

dogimo said...

I should have read this before I attempted the above:

Or this "plain-folks" exemplification, from elsewhere on the interwebs (credit, though I added in a Reverse and a Contrapositive):

•Original hypothesis: "If I have received $100 in the mail today, I will buy a pair of pants tomorrow."
•Reverse: "I will buy a pair of pants tomorrow if I have received $100 in the mail today."
•Converse: "If I buy a pair of pants tomorrow, I have received $100 in the mail today."
•Inverse: "If I have not received $100 in the mail today, I will not buy a pair of pants tomorrow."
•Contrapositive: "If I get $100, I shall buy a coat.' 'If I have not bought a coat, I have not received $100."

Apparently, if the original proposition is true, the reverse is true and the contrapositive is true.

However, the original proposition makes no claim that there can be only one todaycondition that will lead to the purchase of tomorrowpants. Therefore the Converse and the Inverse seem falsifiable - at least in this example.

dogimo said...

I guess the upshot is I blame you for the converse. And I'll take the hit on the contrapositive. This is just a gut hunch - I haven't worked out all the math.

Say, "Roses Are" is a pretty neat title for a post huh?