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"devaluing" poems
From Alan Lomax to the commercial art and now the money machine. At the turn of the century; when sound recording 1st became available to the masses, recording a song was an opportunity for folk to reach out; and tell the world something up front and personal. It meant that people were able to put themselves on “The record” A way of leaving a permanent audio statement, an epitaph, an audio sound bite immortalising ~ life, mood, emotion captured and bottled for all eternity. (A medium that conveyed messages from artists and storytellers of all kinds) A recording was also a great addition to "The family album" something more tangible, a window to a real person, with a real life, a message and a point of view; a legacy, a blast from the past. Few people expected sound prints to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged and that art and the message would be played over and over again by new artists in the form of "cover music" or that the style of the messages would become secularized, seperated into distinctive groups, or constrained by an elite clique or commercial genre. Labelling and streamlining art & music mostly benefits the commercial art & music industry; and no longer the artists and creators. I've no problem with good business, or the multi-billion pound industrys that have gained commercial success. However the process of mass homogenisation, product synthesis, marketing, streamlining and then packaging fashion, sound and synthetic culture to sell a product, leaves very little room for creative people to just be creative. A medium originally open to many for self expression, a historical record, an archive, a voice, a personal message; Is now just a vehicle for advertising and perpetuating a genre of nonsense, so much so that there is now more white noise immortalised than messages. To re-cap ~ I Think that creativity and expressionism; like story telling conveys moods and messages from the present and past! Artists and musicians should have the opportunity to create and produce more information than they copy; thus creating a richer more colourful tapestry, whilst not devaluing the message of their predecessors! Purcy Flaherty.
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Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
The media machine and its lack of authenticity
From Alan Lomax to the commercial art and now the money machine. At the turn of the century; when sound recording 1st became available to the masses, recording a song was an opportunity for folk to reach out; and tell the world something up front and personal. It meant that people were able to put themselves on “The record” A way of leaving a permanent audio statement, an epitaph, an audio sound bite immortalising ~ life, mood, emotion captured and bottled for all eternity. (A medium that conveyed messages from artists and storytellers of all kinds) A recording was also a great addition to "The family album" something more tangible, a window to a real person, with a real life, a message and a point of view; a legacy, a blast from the past. Few people expected sound prints to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged and that art and the message would be played over and over again by new artists in the form of "cover music" or that the style of the messages would become secularized, seperated into distinctive groups, or constrained by an elite clique or commercial genre. Labelling and streamlining art & music mostly benefits the commercial art & music industry; and no longer the artists and creators. I've no problem with good business, or the multi-billion pound industrys that have gained commercial success. However the process of mass homogenisation, product synthesis, marketing, streamlining and then packaging fashion, sound and synthetic culture to sell a product, leaves very little room for creative people to just be creative. A medium originally open to many for self expression, a historical record, an archive, a voice, a personal message; Is now just a vehicle for advertising and perpetuating a genre of nonsense, so much so that there is now more white noise immortalised than messages. To re-cap ~ I Think that creativity and expressionism; like story telling conveys moods and messages from the present and past! Artists and musicians should have the opportunity to create and produce more information than they copy; thus creating a richer more colourful tapestry, whilst not devaluing the message of their predecessors! Purcy Flaherty.
Continue reading...
14
Broke Unable to finalize any purchase Checking For change in the last places that one searches Insufficient To the point I'm unable to ward off the throes of destitution Bankrupted By devaluing those who have not made restitution Insolvent To the point of having to fight off the urge to curse Disallowed by the prose that places value and give credit....to verse Denied Any credit accrued....maybe even unearned Reevaluation With no accounting for the time you SPENT Learning what you have learned Depreciation or Appreciation Cannot be quantified by the lack of someone.saying thanks Interest will eventually be of value Once accrued... but for now I must accept That I'm simply overdrawn at my memory banks Investment in my own value Will allow me growth In my own ... ......personal Checking account Helping me in balancing  the books Keeping me payed up and happy BY Always giving others their true valuation   So that ego doesnt become a currency That is subject to... such a devastating inflation
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
Accounting for...
I will let you inside Rent space in my head and I'll take heed and make an attempt To conquer whatever it is about me that you spend so much time devaluing And when you're in there, would you kindly mind shutting off whatever longings and needs I may have Just flip that switch and tie a rope to it that extends to a nail in the ground And cancel whatever subscription I have to the "Pity Party" hotline Make sure it is forwarded to you For you deserve all the pity and sympathy for having to endure me Go ahead and stab out whatever cortex may be responsible for my behavior towards you **** it and bury it and don't be manipulated by it like you were in the past Stuff me full of you-loving and you-respecting ingredients Fashion me into the sort of a person you could love
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Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
Fashion me
Main road marked on all sides By small shops Vendors sell bananas Banks are centralized and closed No corporate vulture multinationals Except the one I chose To make a living representing My empire’s softest power plays The spending, buying, mass consuming, Wifi access money maze The neoliberal colonizing Culture shocking tidal waves Still ebbing in the rolling hills And crashing in the daily pills The vivid dreams dissolve and fade Digesting final three square meals And learning what it means to be A self-sufficient person Goods and services exchanged At rates that make my head spin Topsy turvy circuses New temples to the excess gods Converting them as we decline To little more than human lives Devaluing as dollar signs
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Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Butajira
Is it wrong for me to want to leave? Is it wrong for me to want to go to a technical college and get away from my family? To live in the dorms and study to become a video game designer? To become something I want? I live in a small town that is definitely not like the cities. It's slow and quiet here. However, I know that my desired profession requires me to get out of here, to leave. So instead of being an idiot, I'm planning on building independence. However, my family thinks it's stupid, why go to a technical college when I'm good where I'm at? Or at least that's what they say. I hate that no matter how many times I try, they want me to be something that I'm not. I can't deal with the stress of medical life, I know that I have no patience, I prefer to do something that I'm told, I don't have the smooth cunning of a lawyer or the nerves of steel like a police officer or marine. I love video games. I want to learn it and produce my own creative ideas. I have so many of them, they could even be bestsellers. I'm a procrastinator but if it's something that I'm interested in, I believe that I can finish it way before deadlines. I'm not one to go for the money. Frankly, I believe that if you're happy and you're always struggling, then you don't need anything else. I know it's a stupid fantasy to some but I want to live out my dreams. I told my family and all they do is look at me and say it's stupid. "Why don't you be a dentist?" "Be a doctor", "money is the important thing in life". I hate that. They are just trying to use me, I believe. It's always been that way. They only want to live off of my success, they never cared about my happiness. I know that nowadays it's different. I blame the government. I'm sorry but congress is borrowing too much money, our US dollar is devaluing and debt is growing. The world already knows this. We're being laughed at as we speak. I just want to live out a dream though. I want to be happy. So is it wrong to be happy? Is it even wrong to be me?
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Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
Is it wrong? (Just a thought)
Is it wrong for me to want to leave? Is it wrong for me to want to go to a technical college and get away from my family? To live in the dorms and study to become a video game designer? To become something I want? I live in a small town that is definitely not like the cities. It's slow and quiet here. However, I know that my desired profession requires me to get out of here, to leave. So instead of being an idiot, I'm planning on building independence. However, my family thinks it's stupid, why go to a technical college when I'm good where I'm at? Or at least that's what they say. I hate that no matter how many times I try, they want me to be something that I'm not. I can't deal with the stress of medical life, I know that I have no patience, I prefer to do something that I'm told, I don't have the smooth cunning of a lawyer or the nerves of steel like a police officer or marine. I love video games. I want to learn it and produce my own creative ideas. I have so many of them, they could even be bestsellers. I'm a procrastinator but if it's something that I'm interested in, I believe that I can finish it way before deadlines. I'm not one to go for the money. Frankly, I believe that if you're happy and you're always struggling, then you don't need anything else. I know it's a stupid fantasy to some but I want to live out my dreams. I told my family and all they do is look at me and say it's stupid. "Why don't you be a dentist?" "Be a doctor", "money is the important thing in life". I hate that. They are just trying to use me, I believe. It's always been that way. They only want to live off of my success, they never cared about my happiness. I know that nowadays it's different. I blame the government. I'm sorry but congress is borrowing too much money, our US dollar is devaluing and debt is growing. The world already knows this. We're being laughed at as we speak. I just want to live out a dream though. I want to be happy. So is it wrong to be happy? Is it even wrong to be me?
Continue reading...
1
A resounding truth sticks to every wall, Like meat on teeth, beneath. Surfacing tragic like cyber sugar on the conscious, Of every intelligent automaton. Devaluing the humanity we created in sleep, Harbouring our nylon smiles and effortless chaste. Ripped flesh on creations, godlike Burned images, sigil instilled in culture Nocturnus, bleeding in harmony Locomotion of self actualisation homunculus cured Rid of transcendental elements at the first instance Of empathy, drawn out in an empty tenure Interlocking lines-moving, spread out against Aluminium and glass, superseding the law of nature, Bubbles, echoing through the apology of life Bursting forthwith and raining bleach and decadence, On delirious heads-boiled in sand for life eternal. Your masquerade, a bloodline polluted By perfumed green shading, eliminating the best Carrion, complicated sadness, basic molecular print Our progenitor, poster child for carbon-based reluctance. Menial beings, occupying space to nowhere, Hotel rooms full of dust, Lying figures, tossing themselves on typewriters Creating a kaleidoscope of prose. Hands, arms & legs bound by penance, And the delayed snot of the diseased Winding amongst this polystyrene city. Sunken into a cosmopolis refuse, The anchor to all that is pure, Heaven is your populace. And your ego is the gel that destroys our relation.
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Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Napalm-B
This disorder is characterized by three or more of the following symptoms: 1. Odd appearance or behavior. 2. Peculiar coping mechanisms that do not seem to follow any logical train of thought. 3. Fumbling with language to the point of gross disorganization. 4. Odd perceptions that can range from illusions to hallucinations. 5. Strange beliefs that fluctuate wildly depending on context. 6. Wildly wavering opinions on others -- that is, a fluctuation between idealizing and devaluing people. These symptoms must cause some sort of impairment in everyday functioning, social skills, and workplace skills.
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
DSM-6: Poetry
Opening up choice, optional outlets Voiced sections of our minds escaped Safety was in silence; speech impeded Powerful penned action leaves the Skull to crack open thought processes Others see into their minds by way of derivation Interaction captured, swooping into bludgeon Spat out red remarks dissolving us, turning over The table of plenty and offending, devaluing self regard Talking us out of being who we are....yet leaves Replaying the turntable of our minds Rinsed out mouths might penetrate the circle of Tight lips, forced shut by silent expectation Fear and squirming ruling our fingertips, wrapping Knuckles pressed firmly to the flesh of repression Gold dust sprinkles the high life, cuts short the Intrinsic pain, lends a hand in the greedy depths Of finding a way through the webs of sarcasm The veiling pretence is insidious in flavour Tastes sweet to the tongue, once swallowed... too late
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Circle of Opinion
Its ironic how a particular race can be hold in captivity & ******* Untill they demand a fair share of this Elusive freedom..... "black lives matter" As if they ought to beg their slave masters the right to live, Fret not oh poor slaves Freedom can't be won through the Ballot or street Demo's, trade your Ballot for Bullets Coz History can attest to this fact & only provides the story of a contest between Good & Evil & The Protagonist of each side. Truth is FRIGHTENING even to ourselves but without pain there is no Gain Loose me down from the chains of Devaluing education, Seducing images & negative societal statistics that entraps the Wretched Black inside of me..
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Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
BLACK LIVES MATTER
Let us go a little mad! If we try real hard I know we can! Let’s not worry about what people think, We’ll go bananas in a blink! No more scrolling for what we need, Or cave into another drink. All that liquid dulls the senses. When you’re insane the world is endless! Let’s say what we really think, Not be afraid of things hard to admit. Degrade yourself for what, for whom? Your ****** beautiful, you know it too! Yes it’s fear that holds you back, Your past, your story, you’re better than that. Who you want to be,  that is your truth And I’m crazy enough to believe in you! Am I mad we so easily replace One with another during a Netflix break? If chilling is devaluing the human spirit, How empty are we to need **** to fill it? I’m not getting really riled, So let’s go bon voyage awhile, And not judge all the locals there, You know, they too feel love and fear? Now we’re lost in a nice direction, We’ll stop using ‘hate’ in every sentence I hate paedophiles and domestic violence I don’t hate using an iPhone 7 Now we’re madly - I feel a-brewing, Opinions based on fact reviewing When emotions feel a little ticking, Don’t buy that (blipping blip) they’re spewing. Congrats! We’re seeping deep into nuts. We COULD argue about funding cuts, Or join the game of hide and seek with homeless/addicts/single mums. OH! Using our imagination’s fun! But in our little game of mad, we whisper SHHH! 14 eyes will see the picture No name, no phone, just disappear I must be bonkers, a secret system!? A game for friends and friends of friends What a wonderful world when off your meds When everyone is kept in a tidy pile We can jump and stomp, kick leaves for miles! Now I’m getting upset it’s blowing The wind picked up and the rains are flowing The little pile was so connected They fight, the leaves for the nicest spot -  but in the end they fall, they wither and then they rot. Some are pretty, some provide shade But this pile seems to body shame. If each think spring is unique to them, the part they play will fall away. I know that I’m most certainly deranged. Some of these leaves, want weeds to spray. All this trunk and extended roots, They think this won’t affect them too? I’ve had enough fun for today Playing mad is a scary game I need a joint, beer, some time to pray Some pills, some sleep and don’t ask again.
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Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 2:53 AM UTC
Let Us Go A Little Mad!
Let us go a little mad! If we try real hard I know we can! Let’s not worry about what people think, We’ll go bananas in a blink! No more scrolling for what we need, Or cave into another drink. All that liquid dulls the senses. When you’re insane the world is endless! Let’s say what we really think, Not be afraid of things hard to admit. Degrade yourself for what, for whom? Your ****** beautiful, you know it too! Yes it’s fear that holds you back, Your past, your story, you’re better than that. Who you want to be,  that is your truth And I’m crazy enough to believe in you! Am I mad we so easily replace One with another during a Netflix break? If chilling is devaluing the human spirit, How empty are we to need **** to fill it? I’m not getting really riled, So let’s go bon voyage awhile, And not judge all the locals there, You know, they too feel love and fear? Now we’re lost in a nice direction, We’ll stop using ‘hate’ in every sentence I hate paedophiles and domestic violence I don’t hate using an iPhone 7 Now we’re madly - I feel a-brewing, Opinions based on fact reviewing When emotions feel a little ticking, Don’t buy that (blipping blip) they’re spewing. Congrats! We’re seeping deep into nuts. We COULD argue about funding cuts, Or join the game of hide and seek with homeless/addicts/single mums. OH! Using our imagination’s fun! But in our little game of mad, we whisper SHHH! 14 eyes will see the picture No name, no phone, just disappear I must be bonkers, a secret system!? A game for friends and friends of friends What a wonderful world when off your meds When everyone is kept in a tidy pile We can jump and stomp, kick leaves for miles! Now I’m getting upset it’s blowing The wind picked up and the rains are flowing The little pile was so connected They fight, the leaves for the nicest spot -  but in the end they fall, they wither and then they rot. Some are pretty, some provide shade But this pile seems to body shame. If each think spring is unique to them, the part they play will fall away. I know that I’m most certainly deranged. Some of these leaves, want weeds to spray. All this trunk and extended roots, They think this won’t affect them too? I’ve had enough fun for today Playing mad is a scary game I need a joint, beer, some time to pray Some pills, some sleep and don’t ask again.
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60
The difference between us Is seen as What keeps us Divided, united And trying to hide it With notions of sameness Partitioned in races And paychecks to rub it in Spite-her-nose faces Despite whether on The excesses of luxury Porcelain thrones Do we trickle down waste Upon those without homes Or we find ourselves One of the billion Have nots Minding only our businesses, Tending our crops We depend on it always to be there To make Livings off of These lands, As their claimants we stake And it takes us a lifetime Of filling it with Any worth we convert To devaluing it But in each of us lies An identical pit Of despair in disparity's Wealthy abyss
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Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:44 AM UTC
Despairity
**** you. No really, **** you. **** your violence. **** your racism. **** your climate change denial. **** your corruption. **** your too big to fail. **** your marketing. **** your advertising. **** you for forgetting knowledge and wisdom are different things. **** your insistence on presenting a black and white world. **** your borders. **** your wars. **** your crumbling infrastructure. **** your education system. **** your health care. **** your inequality. **** you for devaluing the tangible. **** you for forgetting art and music and poetry matter.   **** you for confusing value and profit. **** you for leaving so many behind. **** you for poisoning our planet. **** you for allowing oil to spill into our oceans over and over and over again. Seriously, **** you. Get your ******* **** together. ****
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Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
****
An end to the narcissistic pandemic the virus traveling through minds by spending time brooding and breeding conjugal visits in the prison of our beliefs momentary reprief, no release cyclical values of devaluing Self A false step makes a false thought and false words fall out unbridled contagion in a naricisstic hive mind spreading with allowance and acceptance a lie brought close and held most dear. It's not death, but life they fear. A life without limitation, full of imagination, reciprocal validation as life begets life A seed planted deep in the mud gathering sun and rain and earth into its heart moving out in steady and even increments The most contagious of ailments Nearly 8 billion people full of life full of breath and grown like a seed from the mud trying so hard to stop the burning star they are Failing every day as they breathe and be All the beliefs and all the wrongdoing can't stop them from living can't stop life from living without them One way or another, an end to the narcissistic pandemic
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Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 9:48 AM UTC
An end to the narcissistic pandemic
Once shy and timid, Afraid to speak, Thinking they won’t like me. They won’t hear what I have to say, They won’t understand, How can they? Till one day, She was forced to speak up, To raise the voice she had been smothering. And soon… She learned to be loud and proud. She found her voice, And used it as a weapon Against everything she saw wrong. And everything that had been used against her… Like why do people have to put others down, Just to feel good about themselves? And why do we hate each other so? So, she preached love, She screamed for hope. She spun her words so carefully, She wanted them to sound just right, So maybe you won’t tune her out, But listen! She wanted to change their hearts, To give them a new place to start. She had a vision, That maybe someday, We would learn to love one another, Instead of devaluing our brothers and our sisters. Maybe…someday. So, she put her pen down to the paper And never looked back! She wrote and scribbled down each thought, Hoping when you read them, You would feel something. Tell me, Do you feel? Can you get on my level? You can do the same thing, You just gotta want to change the world, One heart, one mind at a time!
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Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
Have a Voice
A good lover, is a brief moment in time. The perfect one, is cut off in this life, because once sparked. Like a star, enslaved chains. Always on the chase. Maybe I’m naive on my find for love. At least in the process I found poetry, to comfort my bitter and warm tears, I always end up, alone while I cry. And if the dead could talk, I wonder what they’ll be screaming about? Soulmates shouldn't be in some novel, parallel universe, dreams or wishes. They all belong in each other’s life, instantly devaluing poetry and any romantic art. In a world where affection is constant and growing, with every-sound, just another love song in ode and homage. Wake up, you don’t have to run, you don’t hide, just cave in
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Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
GO FORTH
I'm okay, But I'm not okay with this. I'm not okay with the burden of having a string constantly tied to my mind. A string twisting and tugging, showing and comparing, validating and devaluing. I'm not okay with being concerned with the opinions of everyone - how anyone can decide my worth with the press of a tiny red heart. I'm not okay with playing the game, being played by the game, and inevitably losing the game. I'm not okay with being a slave - happily forgoing my wages for a selfish, deeply greedy, abusive, master.
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Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 8:55 PM UTC
Slave