Non-Editorializing

in “Poem Club”

Fox News, CNN, Jim Bob’s Manure and Chicken Plucking Farm Report—you cannot get away from the heaps and heaps of weeping, sobbing and generalized all around bubblegum brained babbling in content today. What in the hell has happened to good-ol’ persona removed reporting?!

As mentioned just recently; no one gives a furry rat’s behind, what your feelings and comments are. Just report the flippin’ story; concentrating on getting your details right, your butchering of the English language to a minimum. It’s “pled” not “pleaded” for cryin’ out friggin’ loud! And anyone who respects this fading language (“American” not really “English” any longer…thank gawd!) anyone who cares will agree. And I don’t give a r.f.a. what your idiot English teacher sez you’re allowed to degenerate tense down into. It’s still, “pled”!

Sorry for the segue…

When constructing a “poem,” one will notice, present tense seems to provide the most energy and draw the reader along far better than past tense. A good way to work into present tense is to utilize historic present tense (aka Homeric present-tense.) Most of the really fine journalist/literature authors utilize historic p.t.

   And even more evident in the more finely distilled wines—lack of a personal presence. The narrator does not include themselves in the scene.

Whenever possible, no first person usage. (First rule of “poem club.”)

   The Second rule of “poem club”: keep your opinions to yourself. No one wants to hear (have a piece ruined by) your input. Leave out anything, any goop that smacks of, I, me, mine, I believe, oh my gawd, such carnage, such action, this is horrifying,  such calm, oh the blood and the gore…, it was a beautiful sunny morning, god bless them, they lived happily ever after, etc. etc. Leave this sort of Thumper-and-Bambi tripe to Disney and the news bobble-heads and their cadre of apparently under-educated prompt writers.

   Consider the notable news commentators; Walter Cronkite, Charlie Rose, the Walter Winchells, their usual persona detachment from the story. Their professionalism. Not that they weren’t (aren’t) emotionally invested—they just stick to getting the facts across in an engaging manner and let the listener determine the emotional value and investment they wish to undertake for themselves. Telling readers what they should think and feel—wow! how grade-school is this. Show, not tell…

   All of these types of emotions and opinions are quite easily described within the confines of the story within the “poem” in a perfectly detached manner. And if they can’t be encapsulated in the verse, guess what? they’re not needed.

Mas Mtn. Dew,  Max tdc

Slammin’ Slams

Always reliable for providing  brain bubblegum and mostly a fair tool for research, if one spends a reasonable amount of effort researching the research…the internet.

There is always something to be learned from another’s writing. Sometimes it just takes a bit of winnowing of the chaff to get to the grain…

Late night, letting my mouse take me on a journey through the morass of “poetry” refuse jamming up the ether. A somewhat catchy blog title: Should Poetry Slams be Put to Sleep?  (11-22-2006 by StrUHT) snags my attention. Then the, not unexpected, disappointment sets in as the article spirals down mimicking the mundane effort of the title and the author quickly tangents into a monologue of his qualifications and awards and all-around hip-hip-hooray good Hanna pass the gravy—complete with exclamation marks! Ever (really) addressing the title issue? No. Not hardly.

The only relevant component of the “article”, the closing paragraph which in essence observed: The credibility  (“credibility” mentioned or addressed nowhere previously in the article) Credibility of a “poet”/performer needs to be initiated by each “poets’” clarity of themself and their ability. Huh? That’s bringing us full circle again; allowing the inmates to run the asylum.

   The “poet,” apparently, being the only one able to judge whether or not they are “performing” just to be on stage, or are trying to impart “…something truly worthy of consideration within the soul. …”

   Ok. A fair statement. It is indeed up to the “poet” to determine their own premise in reciting (performing) before an audience—still not addressing the sludge that is produced and the authors of said sludge, ego-driven to never address improvement, never get beyond grandma-ma applauding her shriveled hands to shreds supporting these unfinished attempts.  

Wouldn’t one then come to the conclusion: this is why there is such an overwhelming prevalence of crap writing out there. It is too easy to be recognized by those who wouldn’t know a “poem” from a donut-hole. Of course (exclamation point!) your grandmother is going to clap for your effort—leaning to her companion (dragged kicking and screaming to bolster ol’ granny) and whispering, I wish Elrod wouldn’t use the “f” word so often…

Right on Elrod. Just keep f…..n’ it up and you’ll become a noted bard. Right…

A few (edited) misc. notes picked up along this latest journey; seeming to actually make some sense.

·        Performance “poets” have some desire to be appreciated by others. Agreed.

·        Most audiences would prefer to understand that which is being spoke at ’em. One would think, Bub. Why then, do we insist on writing in convoluted circles with references that only we—as in our self and self alone—are privy to?

·        Audiences are reasonably willing to suss out the meaning of a “poem.” Why, then, do we make it so difficult? Write for the audience …no one really gives a furry rat’s behind what your feelings are as the story-teller; the individual, bottom-most line: the audience is only interested in what entertains or is directly relevant to them. Just suck it up and pander to that end-game. Then, watch your “audience points” rise. Plenty of time later to have engraved, your finest, personally introspective hour, on your granite tombstone.

·        Many (hmmmm? Most?) “poets” write (and then perform) of experiences or situations which only they can related to—apparently, caring not the loss of their audience. Ephemeral blue haze personal emotions fall easily into this trap.

   If one is a writer of limited specialty, ie. automotive or truck or train, or gerbil raising—what is the net audience for these subjects? Most likely nil or less,. Should one not write of these tangentials? heck no—write about them, the world needs to live and have available to them interests beyond their own, stifling little microcosm. This is where an audience might actually be interested in your strange little world. The trick is then: limited interest subjects need to be addressed in such a way, that an explanation—either direct or strongly associated and implied—is carefully included in the work. Otherwise, the little ol’ lady in the back row will be consternated no end by the term, V-8. Wondering why in the hell you’re revving up your eight vegetables and spices breakfast drink with a four-on-the-floor…?!

Logic and consideration mi amigos e amigas…

Max tdc

Please

For the sake of sanity in the world of letters—no matter how small and inexperienced you may feel your contribution, at this time may be: at least write something worthwhile. And double check your final output. It sure adds credence to a faltering “art” form.

And sometimes, it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed…

Well,

   now I think I’ve read (at least attempted, out of shear perseverance) one of the stupidest, shallowest, poorest attempts at juvenile, suggestive, Sapphic erotica… examples of poor grammar, syntax, tense and S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G, I’ve had the unmitigated displeasure of encountering on the inter-mess. A virtual train wreck—and ol’ Max, here, unable to avert his gaze. Yet, another example of un-edited sites with sophomoric writers thinking they are writing “poetry” because they are simply able to place their material, unfettered, on-line (or with an un-edited ink and pulp publication.) And this particular writer is persistent to say the least; week after week of tasteless manure offerings.

This is a classic that requires entry into my writing course; examples of: flying monkey refuse…

Offered herein, a few examples (isn’t any way in Hades ol’ Max will reprint the sludge on this site.)

This latest shovelful, compliments of:

The Saturday Diner Open Mic

                            October 31, 2015

‘SAILING THROUGH LIFE

   WITH AN ORANGE DUMB-ASS’

                                     (ital: Max edited just a smidge)

“SAILING…”

(notice, the author figured out the correct spelling of “through”, for at least his title…eh, Mikey?)

Title: ALL CAPS…? Thought, most writers left this pre-school device—well…back when they were still required to use Crayola crayons.

Hey, Mr.”Writer”: it’s “…through” (a preposition) not “threw (a verb) the open window…”

“…she thoughts as they whip back…” Me thinks this is another screw-up…hmmm, can you say: self-edit, and dictionary? (No! Not spell-check!) Deities, have mercy.

On the other hand, “…ORANGE DUMB-ASS”  must be “poetry,” because the writer arbitrarily breaks the rambling, pointless, run-on piece into spastic uneven stanzas of no-rhyme-or-reason, no meter attempt at all; complete avoidance of any lyric representation; utilizing full punctuation (that’s ok, normally)—except omitted at any sentence terminus (unless said sentence ends in an abbreviation or acronym, i.e.”L.A.”) Huh?!  Consistency, consistency—none. There is utilization of “joint” “swig” Captain Morgan”; flogging “Pussy, Pussy, Pussy,” so we all get the perverse implications—surprised the utterance isn’t entirely in BOLD CAPS. Last, but not least: basic, grade school sentence structure, surpassing the worst of Seuss, enough to make one’s sphincter pucker.

Gawd, do I need a Jack double right about now…

Max tdc   (and this started out as a mellow day…)

That was quick—

here come the (pertinent) comments…

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“Harsh, Dude!

Sure would like to read this piece for myself.”

Jacob Sterling

Seattle, WA

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Yes, indeed: harsh—yet, deserved and I believe an accurate accounting. Doesn’t anyone get tired of p.c.’ing, lowering the bar, sugar mouthing every bit of sludge that comes down the pike, dragging down the value of their own accomplishments just to accommodate every ego-tom, dick and dillweed who has access to a keyboard?

And Jacob, you shall have the chance to read this glob of flying monkey refuse. Have sent it to your e-mail address. (Can’t link you. It is from a select recipient’s list, only.)

   Wonder if you’d have the courtesy to respond with your, then, informed observations?

Appreciate someone who has what it takes to step up and question. Hoorah!     Max

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“Hey, hey, Max

This piece, “…Orange Dumb-Ass” was forwarded to me by a recipient of the BackStreet offerings.

   Think you were a bit stern. But then again, you must have had to restrain yourself. So many other glaring issues (most kindly, I suppose) not mentioned. How creative of you to “edit” the original title.”

Alonzo Quijano

Rucio, CA

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Hey, hey, yourself, Alonzo. Thanx for the support.

   Did indeed have to restrain myself—as you know, I am not p.c. Was going along fine in my pink bunny slippers, with my morning cigar and Mtn. Dew for breakfast, when this atrocity came up on the screen. And though it is inarguably a pile, I was calm and reserved until “threw.” After that my mind just went to full-on assault.

   Wish I was more like the beautiful, Aussie-dog luvin’  accomplished lady poet in Phoenix, or the Zen dude and his cat Frosterish in Longmont who publish one and contribute to and support another publication (both, whom I admire.)

But it just isn’t in me. This post-literate plague is enveloping the last vestiges of intelligently written communication, (especially) of verse; sucking it down into Poseidon’s depths like the kraken on a ditchweed munchies rampage. And all those being affected, still remain mute. No one. No one, seems to give a furry rat’s behind.

And that’s the skinny on that, Sir.   Max

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“Mr. Max tdc,  am familiar with this particular writer as well as some of his contemporaries. A collection of unpolished writers, to be sure.  And un-edited publications are certainly a major contributing factor to the proliferation of this “sludge.”

   Just watch, as the, even semi-literate, writing crowd ages, this situation will worsen. “Pled” has degenerated into “pleaded,” now, “through” has oozed into “threw” (although, I suspect this one was a faux pas) writing is just going to the

brick throwing mice.”

Ig Herriman

Arizona

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Hey. Just watch it. Them klinker tossing rodents is my friends.

   You do, so, speak the struth, good Sir.   Max