21/03/2014

Agenda

Oh dear, no #poetry flowed yesterday.

Like the constipated mathematician, I tried to work it out with a pencil...

From the notebook...

This was rather fun, write a poem on a village place name...

 Addingham
Sheep throughout the dales disappear,
during gales, throughout the year,
the police are baffled, or dare not say,
as swift as farmers reflock
Addingham takes 'em away.

The Sonnet of the Angry Poet, lines in two half sentences, five beats to the half line....

 'fucking facist pigs', the bar till slams shut.
Mr Abrahams coughs,

Meh, poets writing skits about poetry readings, is almost as dull as poets writing poems about writing poems. And tacking on references to Trevor Griffiths  play The Comedians only further compounds the error. Oh, and the bad language, so last year.

The original plan was to write long form triplets to be cut down into verses....

the years expand through candled cakes, park swings, broken arms, weekend trips;
through puckered lips, we exchange goodbyes, calling, cajoling, in the grip
of the school run. And, sometimes filtered in moonlight we say hello, slipping
out of character and into role.

but as you can see that didn't go too well.

Neither did minimalist skeleton poetry...

In a joy of Vivaldi I pour tea
Bergamot glistens

when my head turns to listen
caught be pleading

wail of a child the night
looks like rain

and again childish pain

bloody cats,,,,

There is only so long you can string it out, and as you can see by the tedium of those rhymes it wasn't very long.

This was rather fun...

 Oh childish delight at candle bright do not pass or flee
make your wish make it big root your hope like mighty oak
spread your cheeks and blow oh childish delight in candle bright
do not let if go

This less so...

 In the bandstand plays without regard for the children rushing round
the local amateur jazz quintette raising money for the drowned.

A nicely absurd line, but little more....

A which point I settled into the La Chasse, and went in search of inspiration.

As a long time boner, and as yet, not first time donor, I am somewhat of a fan of the No Agenda Show - "PUTIN", "george clooney, george CLOONEY, GEORGE CLOONEY, is a spy", "Adam's gonna read his email, on the No Agenda show", Pierre Drivemycar, Snowjob, "you've got karma", that's bogative, et al - so there I am listening to them talk about the situation in Ukraine, about how Nudelman (aka Victoria Nuland) and her husband are pulling the media strings, PUTIN, excerpts from the Council on Foreign Relations meeting, discussion about the pipelines, Eric Snowden (someone has a got a brilliant sense of humour to pull off that robot thing), the propaganda campaign against PUTIN, the analysis of the resignation of that news model... you know... light hearted, intelligent, discussion. I mean where else would you learn that registering the name ABADGUY@Google (dot) com will get you on a list... who would have guessed?

Go to Dvorak dot org slash NA to donate....

Gosh those jingles are catchy....

Anywho....

I'm listening to this, when I happen across a piece, that claims to be a political poem, but in reality is someone who doesn't have anything to say, has been watching the news, written about that, and then tagged on the usual homily of how sad it all is. As an example of the effectiveness of slave training, it is perfect. Nudelman and her cohorts will be delighted, PUTIN.

It perhaps doesn't help that earlier in the day I had stumbled across another poem by the same person, written in much the same style - one might call it provocative, or semi agit-prop - about poetry, and how only old farts like well crafted, complicated things, and everyone should be little Gilliam McKeith's admiring each others poop, like good little Obamabots.

And so I left a comment. Pointing out that the content is naive.

Apparently, that is not done. It seems we are required to have no discernment, but to clap politely.

Which would perhaps explain why so many poetry groups have tedious left wing ranters, waffling on about dolphins, prostitutes and the like, in a vaguely Maoist re-education manner.

Which is a shame, because done well political poetry is very satisfying. Its just a pity that so few people take the time to craft it, to point it, to layer it with meaning and contradiction. It's all just black and white, right and wrong, and good and good.


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Cue random picture to augment the facebooks....

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