important sense of self- worth as you swear in so many words
thei will not walk this path with you Ferlinghetti,
i will not swallow your self-aware self-
important sense of self- worth as you swear in so many words
the world will be saved by poetry. and i spent summers in sweltering
coffeehouses with cigarette smoke dense and packed as the words
of amateur after amateur patting the backs of other amateurs in an amateur display of
"we are poet, hear us roar," but i will not swallow this splenda-made sweetness
that poetry is saving the world. i won't swallow that kool-aid.
i remember in cloewes hall in 2000, your grip on a starbucks vente, as you preached
the evils of autos and corporations as you pushed your sequel to your most successful book so snidely.
now your pint-sized collection of pretensions previously published and stale on the shelf
cancels out its message by its existence.
if you believed these words, they wouldn't be printed in limited edition and signed and sold,
they'd be echoing across internets. they'd be screaming from graffittied walls and they'd
be tattooed across your bookstore. so, i will not walk that path with you, that dead end
path of poetry being the salvation of this country.
salvation is protest in the streets. salvation is blocked intersections and the intersections of ideas in genuine debate, salvation is in escaping the screaming heads that pretend to communicate on television. salvation is not poetry. it is the feminists who insist the way we think about thinking is wrong, salvation is somewhere beyond that place where we think differently.
salvation doesn't wear tweed and read from old yellowed pages. salvation doesn't produce postcards, it can't be sold for 12.95 to fauxrevolutionaries and tourists with fanniepacks taking pictures next to cardboard ginsbergs. i've seen good minds of my generation
distracted by pseudophilosophical bullshit by spouting slam on stages, their rage
flayed upon appearance because every mother- fucker in the room already agrees.
i've seen them muted by their chap-books that sit in piles of rebellion unbought on apartment floors.
i've seen some of the good minds of my generation in bland rebellions by bong and by song
but rebellions don't stay in apartments on couches under marley flags. rebellions don't simmer in coffeehouses before pouring out momentarily satiated into apathetic streets. poetry is a non-rebellion when it doesn't invade the vision of those who don't want to see it.
you snidely look down your nose at academics who place thoughts of doubt like seeds in minds
while you stew in your own juices and make money off echoes of your revolution that is over.
the revolution won't hold tight to reveries of the past. it won't fear the internet; it won't run from technology.
the revolution will be in minutea, as every generation is less locked into the fears of the past, as gay
is legalized, as more people realize how this country treats other countries, as more eyes open to injustice.
Howard Zinn's prose (which you look down upon) opens eyes. The web opens eyes as we see further, learn faster,
travel the globe in seconds, as it becomes closer and closer to impossible to deny we're all human and no one is "other."
you sung the song of the revolution, ferlinghetti, but now your revolution is rapidly aging.
get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand. ...more
This is, and probably will remain, a work in progress. Recommendations for others who deserve their own place in hell are welcome.
Top 40 radio DJs:
No This is, and probably will remain, a work in progress. Recommendations for others who deserve their own place in hell are welcome.
Top 40 radio DJs:
Now bodiless entities that only have their senses of hearing intact, they drift through the airwaves listening to the MOST IRRITATING SONG they ever broadcast. Over and over and over again. For all of eternity. "Oh, don't tell my heart / my achy breaky heart" "I'm a barbie girl / in a barbie world" "My hump my hump my hump, my lovely lady lumps!"
The Presidents and Vice Presidents of Wal-Mart:
They would start their time in hell in a large room full of the greatest sculptures and paintings of all time. Then, they would begin the process of rapidly figuring out ways to produce similar artwork for lower prices. This process would continue forever, their pool of resources getting smaller and smaller until they had nothing left to recreate the artwork with and they were forced to "close," and sit in the empty rooms forever...or maybe after closing, they'd get to be full-time Wal-Mart cashiers without breaks for the rest of eternity. Yeah, that's the one.
*bum bum* IN A WORLD . . . *bum bum* . . . FULL OF NASTY MONSTERS . . . *bum bum* . . . WHO EAT PEOPLE AND BREAK INTO CASTLES . . . *bum bum* . . . TH*bum bum* IN A WORLD . . . *bum bum* . . . FULL OF NASTY MONSTERS . . . *bum bum* . . . WHO EAT PEOPLE AND BREAK INTO CASTLES . . . *bum bum* . . . THE BEASTLY GRENDEL LURKED LONG OVER THE MOORES . . . *bum bum* . . . BUT NOW . . . *Cut to scene of monster ripping someone's face off with his teeth*
(silence. black screen.)
*Unknown warriors approaching*
"Who are ye, then, ye armed men, mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel have urged thus over the ocean ways, here o'er the waters?"
*bum bum* . . . ONE MAN . . . *bum bum* . . . ONE LARGE MAN . . .*bum bum* . . . OF NOBLE BIRTH AND LONG, LONG SWORD . . . *bum bum* . . . IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SAVE THEM.
"Hither have fared to thee far-come men o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland; and the stateliest there by his sturdy band is Beowulf named. This boon they seek, that they, my master, may with thee have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar! In weeds of the warrior worthy they, methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely, a hero that hither his henchmen has led."
"To Hrothgar I in greatness of soul would succor bring, so the Wise-and-Brave may worst his foes, -- if ever the end of ills is fated, of cruel contest, if cure shall follow, and the boiling care-waves cooler grow; else ever afterward anguish-days he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place high on its hill that house unpeered!"
*Everyone looks around at each other, wondering what the fuck he's talking about*
*Exciting symphony, something along the lines of "O Fortuna." combat shown as Beowulf tosses Grendel down, gets Grendel in a headlock, pokes him in his eyes. Beowulf takes his shoe off and starts hitting Grendel on the top of his head with it.*
*Music stops. Shot of Beowulf on the shore, hand on his hilt.*
"Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty in grace and mercy guard you well, safe in your seekings. Seaward I go, 'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch."
BEOWULF. PG-13, Parents Strongly Cautioned. Contains Monsters Biting People's Faces Off, Graphic Far-Fetched Violence, and Shots of Beowulf's Bare Chest.
Beowulf is totally the precursor to Conan, and Rambo. He's mothafuckin' badass. And you know how, since the Rambo movies are so old, they come out in boxed sets now? Think of this slim volume as a trilogy:
BEOWULF BEOWULF II: MOMMY DEAREST BEOWULF III: BEOWULF VERSUS A BIG-ASS DRAGON
While often trilogies get worse as they go along, this one actually improves. And it's safe to say that a fourth sequel will never come out about Beowulf after he gets old and out of shape. . . although that might be what BEOWULF VERSUS A BIG-ASS DRAGON is.
If you like football, Stallone, Escape From New York, and can't get enough of Arnold Schwarzenegger, this is THE classic is for you. ...more
Okay, there's a lot of this poem that could be edited out for conciseness. But, the thing I remember loving about the Iliad is the violence! The metapOkay, there's a lot of this poem that could be edited out for conciseness. But, the thing I remember loving about the Iliad is the violence! The metaphors and details used in my translation made this the goriest book I've read....more
If I were stuck on a desert island and could only take one book, this would be the one. Merwin is my favorite poet, and this is a very good collectionIf I were stuck on a desert island and could only take one book, this would be the one. Merwin is my favorite poet, and this is a very good collection of work from throughout his entire career....more