god almighty, it really has become that,
constipated writers inc.,
you can see them bargain hunt
the next big word - big word among
very simple narrative, stands out
like a christmas tree in a forest
of anorexic pine - they've started the
conveyor belt of horse eye shutters
so they can be reined in on the basis of
some puppet voodoo via the hindu
muses of brahman, it's a 'down the line'
moment: a does what a can only do,
and b does what b can only do,
given c is the process by which
a does what a does prior to not doing it,
like b, which does what b does prior to not
doing it;
me? well i too wish i was an english literature
or a journalism university drop out,
the hard man, the one who left school
at 16 without any qualifications,
started a record company, signed mike
oldfield believing that tubular bells would
be the basis for the soundtrack to both
halloween and the exorcist
(1973, 1978 and 1974 respectively) -
but they're just coming out of these institutions
with institutional verse - they're bothered
and conscious of techniques, they know
why and when to use a metaphor,
they care about saying a maxim about a similie,
they do everything by the rubric as if poetry
was a multiplication table worth memorising,
they write about thirty words a piece
in order that someone might write a 10,000 word
essay playing surgeon on them, cutting them
up to such a bare minimum that you could
almost learn kabbalah inside-out -
but i did graduate with a chemistry degree
unfortunately, and that makes me no hard man,
but i did masacre a bottle of absinthe
at about ~96% in one night and got annoyed
at not being drunk enough - yeah... hard as
they come... nothing to be proud of in all
honesty... yes all that sugar on spoon, bit
of absinthe on sugar and inferno - then some
water to dilute the absinthe and make it
milky green (czech absinthe doesn't turn milky,
some additive is missing, i can't remember) because
i have this one point to make: over-analysing
poetic expression, being conscious of poetic
techniques, in general orthodoxy is so ******
tedious that you begin to put faith in free verse...
that splendour of spontaneity like fireworks set off
un-expectedly on guy fawkes night giving you a startle.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
god almighty, it really has become that,
constipated writers inc.,
you can see them bargain hunt
the next big word - big word among
very simple narrative, stands out
like a christmas tree in a forest
of anorexic pine - they've started the
conveyor belt of horse eye shutters
so they can be reined in on the basis of
some puppet voodoo via the hindu
muses of brahman, it's a 'down the line'
moment: a does what a can only do,
and b does what b can only do,
given c is the process by which
a does what a does prior to not doing it,
like b, which does what b does prior to not
doing it;
me? well i too wish i was an english literature
or a journalism university drop out,
the hard man, the one who left school
at 16 without any qualifications,
started a record company, signed mike
oldfield believing that tubular bells would
be the basis for the soundtrack to both
halloween and the exorcist
(1973, 1978 and 1974 respectively) -
but they're just coming out of these institutions
with institutional verse - they're bothered
and conscious of techniques, they know
why and when to use a metaphor,
they care about saying a maxim about a similie,
they do everything by the rubric as if poetry
was a multiplication table worth memorising,
they write about thirty words a piece
in order that someone might write a 10,000 word
essay playing surgeon on them, cutting them
up to such a bare minimum that you could
almost learn kabbalah inside-out -
but i did graduate with a chemistry degree
unfortunately, and that makes me no hard man,
but i did masacre a bottle of absinthe
at about ~96% in one night and got annoyed
at not being drunk enough - yeah... hard as
they come... nothing to be proud of in all
honesty... yes all that sugar on spoon, bit
of absinthe on sugar and inferno - then some
water to dilute the absinthe and make it
milky green (czech absinthe doesn't turn milky,
some additive is missing, i can't remember) because
i have this one point to make: over-analysing
poetic expression, being conscious of poetic
techniques, in general orthodoxy is so ******
tedious that you begin to put faith in free verse...
that splendour of spontaneity like fireworks set off
un-expectedly on guy fawkes night giving you a startle.