misc notes on:

Sounds of Silence

Q: ‘So, what’s the solution?’

                                    G. S.: Evergreen,CO

A: Sorry, Iggy, but I’m afraid we’re too far into the whale’s belly to start wishing for a “solution.”

Better, start praying for a quick, painless expulsion.

As long as there is such a wanting, lackluster malaise applied to “poetry” beginning at the academic level; as long as there are mobs (and mobs) of wanna be writers (“poetry” hacks—anyone with a pencil) who have the unmitigated gall to call themselves   “poets,” yet, have neither the inclination nor the ethics to learn,  be held accountable, monitor, elevate and improve themselves and their familiars to consistent accessible results, so that others—those who know what it truly takes to achieve such ”laurels”—are willing to entitle such a writer as, a “poet.”… Then there will be no improvement, no general populace recognition; should be no peer recognition; will be no improvement in the pathetic niche in current literature that “poetry” tenuously occupies. No learning, no improvement, no growth.

Bye-bye birdie…

Just a short hint from a crazy ol’ cat who’s already into the nip-gin and rum soaked cigars today:

Casually reviewing a glancing history of poetry, one will find:

Popular writers (in this case poets), writers who have captured the peoples’ imagination, are those who write for the people, the general populace’s entertainment, not in some obscure elitist-speak, barely understandable even by other poetry writers of the same type tripe who see themselves as part of some elite secret society.

Accessibility. Mean anything to ya?

Example: Ol’ Bill Shake’s; fully capable of incredibly convoluted, deep, sonnets—and he probably would have preferred writing at that level and to that (minimal, elitist) audience had there been a market (shekels to be made)—instead, he ended up a wage slave to the Globe theater; writing plays filled with freaks, bawdy humor, perverted lust and incest, murder; mayhem and tortured, predictable plots for the general populace, which, was the desire of the aristocracy: keep the commoners in-humor. Not, that Shakespeare’s plays weren’t monuments to bluster and formulaic writing. They were, however, windows into what the average working man thinks, wants and longs after. And they are, now, considered an insight into how far our current comprehension level has deteriorated. How many readers today, even talking post grad level, can easily, confidently comprehend and explain Bill’s works…?

All hail our current, teach-to-test, academic instructional policy.

Another example: The Bard of the Yukon, Robert Service. Robert Service, seldom even recognized in the various who’s who of poets. What’s with that literati snub? Ol’ Bob wrote to entertain, elevate and provide the average reader an escape beyond their everyday world. He was the people’s poet and his works were wildly successful—actually, made a very comfortable living as a poet. (Try that today.) He wrote to the dreams, to the current trends and adventures that were capturing the adventure fantasies of the populace even in the newspapers as he crafted his Gold Rush tales. He didn’t write to entertain himself, or write down to his readership, he wrote to include them, in phrases and words that they would find accessible, an occasional challenge perhaps, but not so much as to trip the reader or make them feel foolish.

Sidebar: Robert Service, as many other popular versifiers of the early Century, did have an advantage—they were, first of all, accomplished, experienced prose writers, columnists, ensconced in acknowledged positions at leading newspapers of their day. Is there a lesson here…? a common thread…?

In closing:

Why do “poets” continue to flaunt their fragile grasp of literature, writing in unfocused ephemeral babble-speak? thinking they are impressing other than themselves. Twirling sparklers before those who are only mildly, temporarily curious of the fizzle and fire, gets you nowhere.

Max tdc