collage.jpg
Poetry here.
Re: Poetry here.
I wrote 'art is the creation of light and keeps hold of light'
with a yellow marker on a used piece of A4 paper.
I then cut the paper in half vertically and then stuck
(on a new piece of paper) the right-hand piece on the
left and the left-hand piece on the right.
It is such a simple way to confuse the text.
With the simple juxtaposition I can say things
which in a more traditional way would not be possible.
I can say the unsayable.
with a yellow marker on a used piece of A4 paper.
I then cut the paper in half vertically and then stuck
(on a new piece of paper) the right-hand piece on the
left and the left-hand piece on the right.
It is such a simple way to confuse the text.
With the simple juxtaposition I can say things
which in a more traditional way would not be possible.
I can say the unsayable.
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David Handeye
- Posts: 457
- Joined: Wed Mar 04, 2015 6:39 pm
- Location: Italia
Re: Poetry here.
I'd say you can write the unreadablePluto wrote: I can say the unsayable.
Re: Poetry here.
Nice one.David Handeye wrote:I'd say you can write the unreadablePluto wrote: I can say the unsayable.
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raw_thought
- Posts: 1777
- Joined: Sat Mar 21, 2015 1:16 pm
- Location: trapped inside a hominid skull
Re: Poetry here.
OLD AGE
Everyone vanished
Their replacements
Don't
Fool me!
Everyone vanished
Their replacements
Don't
Fool me!
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raw_thought
- Posts: 1777
- Joined: Sat Mar 21, 2015 1:16 pm
- Location: trapped inside a hominid skull
Re: Poetry here.
Reality is
God's face.
Words are
Sticky notes.
Who can
Resist?
God's face.
Words are
Sticky notes.
Who can
Resist?
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raw_thought
- Posts: 1777
- Joined: Sat Mar 21, 2015 1:16 pm
- Location: trapped inside a hominid skull
Re: Poetry here.
Whenever I understand
My life
I smirk
Like a
Dying man
Hearing
His nurses gossip.
My life
I smirk
Like a
Dying man
Hearing
His nurses gossip.
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raw_thought
- Posts: 1777
- Joined: Sat Mar 21, 2015 1:16 pm
- Location: trapped inside a hominid skull
Re: Poetry here.
Are you a postmodernist? Are you a fan of Derrida?Pluto wrote:I wrote 'art is the creation of light and keeps hold of light'
with a yellow marker on a used piece of A4 paper.
I then cut the paper in half vertically and then stuck
(on a new piece of paper) the right-hand piece on the
left and the left-hand piece on the right.
It is such a simple way to confuse the text.
With the simple juxtaposition I can say things
which in a more traditional way would not be possible.
I can say the unsayable.
Re: Poetry here.
Retrospectively I see the cut-up-word technique is DADA, then William Burroughs used it to build his stories.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cut-up_technique
I don't see myself as a label of anything, I want to be all labels and therefore no labels. Derrida I like, postmodernism too.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cut-up_technique
I don't see myself as a label of anything, I want to be all labels and therefore no labels. Derrida I like, postmodernism too.
Last edited by Pluto on Tue May 19, 2015 7:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Poetry here.
Like this one.raw_thought wrote:Reality is
God's face.
Words are
Sticky notes.
Who can
Resist?
Re: Poetry here.
Cloaked in my Cloud
Immersed in Life
I see not what is
But only what is
A passenger of Life
Cloaked in my cloud
Seeing is defined by me
Immersed in Life
I see not what is
But only what is
A passenger of Life
Cloaked in my cloud
Seeing is defined by me
Re: Poetry here.
Conflicting loyalties
In grade seven, dripping with compassion,
Fred and I broke into our lab to rescue the rats...
I alone was caught and grilled for an hour,
urged to tell on my friend
or I would be expelled from the school ...
I kept silent - loyalty made me a loser, a fool.
At nineteen I was called up to the army
to attack the North Vietnamese
who never did me any harm,
I refused and had to flee,
leave my family, my friends, my life behind,
rather than become a blind puppet of the state
I chose a different fate.
Later in life, as an engineer,
I was offered a lucrative contract,
to work on weapons of mass destruction...
I chose to teach instead, for pitiful wages,
and my family had to go along,
follow me where I thought I belong.
My teaching career didn't last long.
Because support was minimal;
I didn't have the time and the resources
to teach the best way possible,
I wouldn’t support mediocre education...
I had to find a new occupation.
Finally I accepted a job
in a chemical factory,
but the conflict followed me there:
I was ordered to dump digoxin in our river
and, when I refused, I was shown the door,
out on the street once more.
That was the last straw for my wife,
she had enough of my principles,
my loyalty to my convictions,
so she left me to follow my lonely path...
...and I still do, I have no choice,
I must follow the voice in my mind
that tells me what is right…
the only loyalty I cannot fight.
In grade seven, dripping with compassion,
Fred and I broke into our lab to rescue the rats...
I alone was caught and grilled for an hour,
urged to tell on my friend
or I would be expelled from the school ...
I kept silent - loyalty made me a loser, a fool.
At nineteen I was called up to the army
to attack the North Vietnamese
who never did me any harm,
I refused and had to flee,
leave my family, my friends, my life behind,
rather than become a blind puppet of the state
I chose a different fate.
Later in life, as an engineer,
I was offered a lucrative contract,
to work on weapons of mass destruction...
I chose to teach instead, for pitiful wages,
and my family had to go along,
follow me where I thought I belong.
My teaching career didn't last long.
Because support was minimal;
I didn't have the time and the resources
to teach the best way possible,
I wouldn’t support mediocre education...
I had to find a new occupation.
Finally I accepted a job
in a chemical factory,
but the conflict followed me there:
I was ordered to dump digoxin in our river
and, when I refused, I was shown the door,
out on the street once more.
That was the last straw for my wife,
she had enough of my principles,
my loyalty to my convictions,
so she left me to follow my lonely path...
...and I still do, I have no choice,
I must follow the voice in my mind
that tells me what is right…
the only loyalty I cannot fight.
-
artisticsolution
- Posts: 1933
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 1:38 am
Re: Poetry here.
Hi Ned,
Loved the poem...is that a poem about your life?
I am reminded of a line from Neil Simon's play Brighton Beach Memoirs, “You did the right thing, you showed you have principles … but can this family afford principles right now?"
I loved that line...because the most important thing for that man was his families well being. Not his principles...his family. For a woman that is very important, I think.
I want my husband to give me his all, his soul, his principles, his life, so that I am secure in his love. I want to be his world. I understand that is a tall order...but that is the way I understand the word 'family'.
You did the right thing...but admittedly, she was not the main priority in your life.
Still, sorry for your loss.
Loved the poem...is that a poem about your life?
I am reminded of a line from Neil Simon's play Brighton Beach Memoirs, “You did the right thing, you showed you have principles … but can this family afford principles right now?"
I loved that line...because the most important thing for that man was his families well being. Not his principles...his family. For a woman that is very important, I think.
I want my husband to give me his all, his soul, his principles, his life, so that I am secure in his love. I want to be his world. I understand that is a tall order...but that is the way I understand the word 'family'.
You did the right thing...but admittedly, she was not the main priority in your life.
Still, sorry for your loss.
Re: Poetry here.
AS, Thank you for the thoughtful reply and the intriguing thoughts you expressed.
The answer to your comment on family versus principles: If the couple does not share their deepest held principles, then it is, in my opinion, not a viable marriage -- they shouldn't have married in the first place. Even if there is a strong love between them, sooner or later it will lead to an unrepairable break. As it happened with my first marriage. The second one, now going on for 33 years, is pure happiness for both of us: neither of us has to compromise our principles because we share every one of them. There are only minor, inconsequential differences in our attitudes to life.
As far as the rest of my life is concerned, here is a more factually (as opposed to symbolically) accurate one:
Memories
It's a maelstrom of swirling images,
a painter's palette gone mad,
dizzying colours, haunting voices,
names, faces, choices…
…memories happy and sad.
I must impose order lest it overwhelms me,
I need to cope with the confusion,
achieve continuity, manage resolution.
I have lived so many lives, all so different,
with tectonic breaks between…
…it’s hard to keep track of
what, if anything, connects them,
as I hopped from one existence to another
trying to maintain my balance,
forgetting everything else.
I grew up with humanistic values:
honesty, courage, mutual assistance,
“Treat others as you would have others treat you”
my parents’ voice echoes in my mind
with kind, gentle insistence.
The world I knew was confusing,
so many people using each other,
often I couldn’t see what they meant…
…but I discovered science - it never lied to me,
explained the beauty and truth of the universe:
mystery easy to understand,
I never had to pretend - found sanctuary.
But I didn’t belong in my country, that corrupt, twisted world;
couldn’t trust our leaders who spoke of brotherly love
while enslaving the masses in poverty, ignorance,
crushing any sign of dissent with brutal intolerance.
Finally I broke to freedom, leaving all behind,
only to discover that humans are humans in whatever guise.
They spout the slogan, but insist on profit,
people are pragmatic, not idealist.
Now, near the end of this roller-coaster ride,
I am trying to make sense, figure it all out,
what it has all meant, beyond any doubt,
truth I can take with me to the end:
The one constant line I can identify,
what I believed in all the time:
honesty with myself, courage to face facts,
and the love I always felt
for my soul mates,
for my friends.
The answer to your comment on family versus principles: If the couple does not share their deepest held principles, then it is, in my opinion, not a viable marriage -- they shouldn't have married in the first place. Even if there is a strong love between them, sooner or later it will lead to an unrepairable break. As it happened with my first marriage. The second one, now going on for 33 years, is pure happiness for both of us: neither of us has to compromise our principles because we share every one of them. There are only minor, inconsequential differences in our attitudes to life.
As far as the rest of my life is concerned, here is a more factually (as opposed to symbolically) accurate one:
Memories
It's a maelstrom of swirling images,
a painter's palette gone mad,
dizzying colours, haunting voices,
names, faces, choices…
…memories happy and sad.
I must impose order lest it overwhelms me,
I need to cope with the confusion,
achieve continuity, manage resolution.
I have lived so many lives, all so different,
with tectonic breaks between…
…it’s hard to keep track of
what, if anything, connects them,
as I hopped from one existence to another
trying to maintain my balance,
forgetting everything else.
I grew up with humanistic values:
honesty, courage, mutual assistance,
“Treat others as you would have others treat you”
my parents’ voice echoes in my mind
with kind, gentle insistence.
The world I knew was confusing,
so many people using each other,
often I couldn’t see what they meant…
…but I discovered science - it never lied to me,
explained the beauty and truth of the universe:
mystery easy to understand,
I never had to pretend - found sanctuary.
But I didn’t belong in my country, that corrupt, twisted world;
couldn’t trust our leaders who spoke of brotherly love
while enslaving the masses in poverty, ignorance,
crushing any sign of dissent with brutal intolerance.
Finally I broke to freedom, leaving all behind,
only to discover that humans are humans in whatever guise.
They spout the slogan, but insist on profit,
people are pragmatic, not idealist.
Now, near the end of this roller-coaster ride,
I am trying to make sense, figure it all out,
what it has all meant, beyond any doubt,
truth I can take with me to the end:
The one constant line I can identify,
what I believed in all the time:
honesty with myself, courage to face facts,
and the love I always felt
for my soul mates,
for my friends.