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Poetry
Created: 2022mar21mon
Updated: 2024apr30tue
This morning, after thinking about a WhatsApp discussion with a friend about the creative process, I discovered the poem "life", and shared it with many of my friends all over the onlines and the interwebz. One asked that I post it on the site. When I came here this afternoon, I couldn't find any suitable page on which to post it. So, I decided to make a new page, and here you are!
Then I remembered the "...walkwherewaterwould..." poem on the homepage, and I was quickly reminded of the others there as well, and then I started looking around on other pages also... I did not realise just exactly how much poetry I actually had lying around all over the site. I guess it was about time to get them all together on one page. I hope I got them all. I do not accept the blame for any of them, though. Thanks. Enjoy. ;)
P.S.:
(a meta-poem
about meta-poetry)
As each word,
or line,
or verse
in a poem
-- and even the smallest punctuation
-- or lack thereof!
carries its own meaning,
so also does each poem
in a collection
contribute to the greater message.
: As the typography in a poem,
so is the order itself also poetry,
in the meta..... ;)
*
Half as much...
"My parents do not love me,
and I can't tolerate them!
...But I know there'll come a day...
-- I'll never return again!"
Those were all my thoughtless thoughts;
it was only yesterday...
Now I'm quietly wondering
what I can possibly say,
'cause they've seen us come to life,
and have tried to help us grow.
We never saw their* dying
-- now we have to go.
Tomorrow, I'll be leaving,
and I'll take the morning bus,
thinking,
"We do not love our parents
-- half us much as they love us..."
*: "the dying which is theirs" (it's not a misspelling of the contraction "they're" -- one small example of the difference proper spelling and punctuation can make in the intended meaning, as well as in the interpreted understanding... and one small example of how a disregard for spelling have now come to require explanations.)
Journal Entry: 2022apr04mon20:50
Here's one for you... I cannot talk meaningless, juvenile/teenage word-salad, Japanese-anime theme-song nonsense anymore, like when I was still a child who'd just learnt to write overly-floral, adjectival sentences. Now that I know what words actually mean, how they sequentially or laterally relate to each other, and how to penetrate my own mind, and can see and extract my own thoughts, one by one, in logical sequence... even the nonsense I speak, has meaning to it; it is not just sounds and the mere disparate emotions that they might evoke anymore, like they used to be, way back when. When? ... like I'm trying to show you now here again. ...and failing, because I'm not a child anymore. If the message seems unintelligible, it is not for lack of consistent, contextual meaning. ... Know what I'm saying?... Yes. It is you. It's all you. ...because I know what I mean to say, and I say what I know I mean. So, thanks, whoever you are, for that. ... for all of this. OK. ... Well, now... That was refreshing, for a change, wasn't it? ... First time in ... ? DECADES!! No. ... in ever. ... Have never done anything like this before. ... Last time anything looked like this, it was still meaningless, nonsense. I hope you enjoyed it. ... I hope you remember what it means when you read it again someday. ...and if you don't... well, then... that's OK as well. Let me know what you think when you pass this way again. Thanks. See ya. PerhapsIshould'veleftoutalltheword-breakspaces...Well,whatever,anyway,it'stoolatenow.leavingthepunctuationandcapitalisationindoesntreallygiveittherighteffectIwanttocommunicateeithermakesithardertoreadthoughbuttherenowthatsbettergoodnightidontlikemeaninglessbeautyforthesakeofmerewastefulbeautyaloneanymoretheonlybeautyisthatbeautywhichfindsitslifeinrisingfromfunctionalitylosethemakeupshaveyourheadbereadyandabletorunthenillbeimpressedtruthlikenatureisharshbutitsfunctionalityinfacilitatinggrowthisbeautifuljustlikenatureifnatureismotherthentruthisfatherandwearealltheirchildrensomeofussurvivetherevelationandsomeofusdontbutitsallokeverythingsallrightasitshouldbeasitisasitwillcontinuetohavebeenalwayswithorwithoutusanyway.thanks
Only if you listen very, very closely... will you finally ever realise... that it is actually a fantastic SONNET!! I mean, look at it! Consider the flow of, and the breaks between ideas... 4 + 4 + 6 = 14: Italian, of some free-form sort, is my guess. There is indeed a poet in you, afterall, Todd Anderson! ...and indeed a poet who can even improvise an Italian sonnet on the spot!! ("Don't you forget this.")
A Barbaric YAWP!
at the sweaty-toothed madman
I close my eyes,
and this image floats beside me --
a sweaty-toothed madman
with a stare that pounds my brain.
His hands reach out and choke me,
and all the time he's mumbling,
mumbling truth,
truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold.
You push it, stretch it; it'll never be enough.
You kick at it, beat it; it'll never cover any of us.
From the moment we enter crying
to the moment we leave dying,
it'll just cover your face
as you wail and cry and scream...
Enjoy ;)
(please pardon all the ads)
sociocide of trust
There's too much going on with this one just to copy and paste it all here. Follow the link, and read it for yourself, if you want. Be warned, though: this one is very, very dark -- as the title itself already indicates.
This next one, "Lachesism", comes from John Koenig's "Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows"... This is some amazing one-word poetry. It's not just some garbled sounds grabbed out of thin air -- he actually has proper etymologies for these new words. ... Truly unique poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/@obscuresorrows/videos
https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/archive
Grothuis
- Koos du Plessis
My buitedeur lei na die lig.
Ek hou dié deur
na willekeur
-- na gríl dus -- oop óf dig.
Só kan ek die dood en lewe hoon,
ek wat die dag
tart met die nag,
en in -- maar óp -- die Aarde woon.
Cave House
(translation of "Grothuis")
My outer door leads to the light.
I keep this door
at random -- therefore
by whim -- open or tight.
So can I death and life ignore,
I who taunt the light
with the night,
and live in -- but on -- Earth's floor.
(some poetic license taken
for the purposes of rhyme)
Wie weet?
- Koos du Plessis
Diep, diep in die bosse
is 'n poort na 'n vergete land
waar ons stil dae slyt,
leef en droom,
en swyend luister
na die voetval van die tyd
teen skemeraand
as hoop weer fluister...
Wie weet?...
Iewers is daar dalk 'n land van rus en ...
Wie weet?...
... waar die vlugt'ling veilig is,
waar die swerwer eind'lik rus,
en as daar is,
neem my saam,
neem my saam...
Diep, diep in die bosse
is 'n poort na 'n vergete land -
'n Eden half voltooi,
half gevul
met halwe vrede
waar die son nog skaam-skaam rooi
kan kniel en wyk
vóór halfgebede...
Wie weet?...
Iewers is daar dalk 'n land van rus en ...
Wie weet?...
... waar die vlugt'ling veilig is,
waar die swerwer eind'lik rus,
en as daar is,
neem my saam,
neem my saam...
Sê my...
is daar iewers dalk 'n land van rus en ...
Sê my...
is daar vêr 'n vreemde kus
waar die swerwer eind'lik rus?
...En as daar is,
neem my saam,
neem my saam...
Wie weet?...
Iewers is daar dalk 'n land van rus en ...
Wie weet?...
Butterflies struggle
against their chrysalises.
Mountaineers struggle
against the elements.
Mathematicians struggle
against themselves.
Poets struggle
against being misunderstood.
Overcoming obstacles
builds character.
I went to the woods
- Henry David Thoreau ("Walden")
I went to the woods
because I wished
to live deliberately,
to front only the essential facts of life,
and see if I could not learn
what it had to teach,
and not,
when I came to die,
discover that I had not lived.
I did not wish to live what was not life,
living is so dear;
nor did I wish to practice resignation,
unless it was quite necessary.
I wanted to live deep
and suck out all the marrow of life,
to live so sturdily and Spartan-like
as to put to rout all that was not life,
to cut a broad swath
and shave close,
to drive life into a corner,
and reduce it to its lowest terms,
and,
if it proved to be mean,
why,
then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it,
and publish its meanness to the world;
or,
if it were sublime,
to know it by experience,
and be able to give a true account of it
in my next excursion.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden#Organization
life
if only we could remember
to become aware
of how we become aware
of realising continually-always
how we are artists
in the medium
of each other's lives,
and how we use the tools
of mutual kindness,
support,
gentle encouragement
and gratefulness
to reposition each other
merely where we belong
in artworks of artists
who simply reposition each other
where they belong
as artists in artworks
by mutual kindness,
support,
gentle encouragement
and gratefulness
in each other's lives ...
then we will finally begin to realise
how we become aware
of becoming aware
of remembering something even greater
in which we are
merely the tools
for making itself
ever since always
even more beautiful
than what it already
is
i thank You God for most this amazing
- E. E. Cummings
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
i thank You GodPlan B
00:00 / 03:21
...walkwherewaterwould...
find the lines
and flow with them -
the ground will whisper where(;)
to go with them
NOISE, BY POOH
- A. A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner,
Chapter Five, Rabbit's Busy Day
Oh, the butterflies are flying,
Now the winter days are dying,
And the primroses are trying
To be seen.
And the turtle-doves are cooing,
And the woods are up and doing,
For the violets are blue-ing
In the green.
Oh, the honey-bees are gumming
On their little wings, and humming
That the summer, which is coming,
Will be fun.
And the cows are almost cooing,
And the turtle-doves are mooing,
'S why a Pooh is merely poohing
In the sun.
For the spring is really springing;
You can see a skylark singing,
And the blue-bells, which are ringing,
Can be heard.
And the cuckoo isn't cooing,
But he's cucking and he's ooing,
And a Pooh is simply poohing
Like a bird.
Zen does discipline,
fighting against nature.
Tao allows discipline,
flowing with Nature.
The discipline followed by the Zen-Taoist Hebrew is
the Truth, Justice and Freedom of Towrâh,
turning from inner nature
(that's fighting against outer Nature) --
flowing with outer Nature,
transforming inner nature...
<go-o-ong!>
"To some people 'prison' is just a word.
To others it's a very long sentence."
-- Roy Doust (paraphrased)
Which brings us to one of my absolute favourites of all time... "4'33" by John Cage, and all its cover versions and parodies and analyses, and the interviews with Cage himself regarding the subject and his intended meaning of it. I'll just post the YouTube search results here, and then you can watch the poetry of how they change every time you click the link, and view the ones that seem most interesting to you. This habit roll goes deep, and will probably never end... ;)
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=4%2733
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