"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.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
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
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
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
Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
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
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
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?
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
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.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
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.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
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
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
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..
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
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.
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 2:53 AM UTC
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
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:44 AM UTC
**** 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.
****
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
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 9:48 AM UTC
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!
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
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
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
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.
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 8:55 PM UTC