TIPS FOR WRITING BETTER GOD DAMN POETRY, PART TWO

A Response to Vincent Wolfram and the Comments on November, Revisited

The first thing I feel weird that I have to mention is I do not think poetry is dead. I think poetry is very much alive. We live in a time where poetry is all around us. Mostly, I think this is the acknowledgement that good writing often is poetry. The dialogue in movies, songs on the radio – I won’t patronize you anymore – the point is poetry is everywhere.

What my last article is a challenge to is writing like yourself and writing to push the envelope. I respect people who write in a classic style of poetry; there is a lot of classic poetry that I love. The last article, and this one are simply a calling. For those of you out there who want to escape the cobwebs of the basement and climb the stairs to the world around you, to being heard, I challenge you to write like yourself.

And now, we backstep. Write like yourself. “I can rhyme, and still write like myself,” “I can use a formal rhythm and write like myself,” True. But I want to hear your god damn heartbeat. I want to hear the speed at which blood flows through your veins. I want to see the soul in your eyes without a pair of Oliver People’s glasses warping my view point. I want to hear what you sound like naked.
And so do the masses. The conundrum I face, and lots of writers face, is how to write what you want to say, but also write to be heard. I spent a long time trying to write what people wanted to hear, and that failed miserably for some reason. Never write to be relevant. Never write to be outlandish. Never write to be political. Just write your heart.

I just watched a documentary on Lenny Bruce, Looking for Lenny, and this said a lot on this subject. Every good comedian today knows who Lenny Bruce is, and many of them spend their whole careers trying to be Lenny Bruce, and therein is the problem. They are not Lenny Bruce. If you are not familiar with Lenny Bruce, Reader’s Digest version, he is a God because he was completely, no-holds-barred, honest to himself. He was speaking on social issues in comedy in a time no one else was, but that’s the thing. Every comedian since has said “I’ll speak on social issues.” No. Lenny Bruce didn’t speak on social issues. He spoke what was on his mind. Gut-to-mouth. Heart-to-mouth. No filter tip.

Ginsberg didn’t write Howl trying to change the world. He simply howled. That’s the whole thing.

One user said I have a “hijacked mantra,” and that’s simply not true. Yes, I’m not saying anything that’s not been said before, but it’s no “mantra”. People speak from their hearts and sometimes someone comes along and labels it “Dadism,” labels it “The Beat Generation,” labels it “Second-Wave Feminism”. William Burroughs was adamant about not being labeled, and I don’t really think anyone ever wants to be labeled, but that seems to be the way of art. The outrageous becomes the mundane, and the original becomes the status quo. The upside of it all is we are born with a bullshit meter that allows us to see the truth; some of us just choose to use it more than others.

Part of me wants to say we’ve all become afraid to say what’s on our minds, but I think the truth is this battle is always there, and what I’m writing is my miniature battle cry to the poets to take advantage of the opportunity they have. What better chance to amplify the rust that’s grinding your gears than poetry? Another user quoted Ginsberg: “Follow your inner moonlight.” Yes. Follow your inner moonlight.
Chase the roads inside of yourself and eventually when they can no longer stand it, they will burst out of you and into the world around you.

Changing notes a bit, I’d like to say Vincent Wolfram made my day. In his article, he tears down a lot of things that I said, but it was so refreshing to hear someone doing just that, and tastefully too.
Vincent seems to be a proponent for formalism, and for poetry that you have to dig a little deeper to get into, and for that, I can only applaud him. If you want to write formally, who am I to stop you? Clearly there is a passion there. I really think it boils down to a matter of style and substance. Don’t get me wrong. That’s not to say that Vincent’s poetry is less substance and more style. It’s all just a matter of how you choose to combine the two. I don’t think I could do it. I couldn’t write the formal verses. I mean, with time and dedication, I’m sure they would come, but it’s not what drives me.

Pardon my ADD, but changing gears a bit again. Reading over Vincent’s article I just found where he says “Don’t trust poets that say they don’t read poetry.” I agree. All poets have read other poets. Bukowski said don’t read other poets. Bullshit. Read away. Just don’t try to be other poets. That’s the problem, I think. Ginsberg said “Find your inner moonlight,” not “Find someone else’s inner moonlight.” Your soul, I think, should be your ultimate inspiration, and whatever gets thrown into the machine while its processing the parts is just bonus.

It’s true when Wolfram says I’m suspicious of formal poetry. Mostly, because I don’t see it on the bookshelves. I don’t hear it in the poetry cafes. I don’t see it on the billboards. Maybe I hear it on the radio, I haven’t decided on that one yet. (Please, opinions are welcome on that one.) I want to hear poetry through a loudspeaker, because if poetry is quiet. If poetry whispers and asks you to sit down with it and hear it out, it so easily could be overshadowed; lost underneath the sound of a million more vibrant things. Poetry, whether you want to admit it or not, is in a battle against television, against movies, even music in some regards. (Music and poetry have a love hate relationship, I think.)

Ooh. Here’s a big one I need to address. In my previous article, I called haikus “small words.” I need to clarify that. The idea of any writer calling any words “small words” is a bit ridiculous, really. What I mean to say is a haiku is a form, where in its most common form , it is five syllables, then seven syllables, then five syllables. Great things have been said in haiku, but to me, it’s like writing from inside of an iron maiden. Why would you condense yourself like that? It feels almost lazy to me. I could see the appeal of the snapshot. Maybe what it boils down to, is if you’re writing haikus, I hope you’re writing other things too.

This article is called “Tips” and I apologize that it’s seemed to turn more into a rebuttal to the first article, but I think this is an important part of learning how to write poetry, maybe the only way. To question what poetry is. What makes good poetry, what makes the bad. Really, I’m just trying to figure it out like anyone else, and I think I have to say that every bad poem out there is just a prerequisite to a good poem.

You know what? This isn’t even about poetry. This is about every damn aspect of your life. I want to see the real you. Yes, “to not know what happened before your born is to remain forever a child,” but what’s more important is to learn from it, to add to it. And I think the only way we can grow as people is to listen to the ghost in our machine; to exhale more viciously than any generation before, and more importantly to open our mouths wider for the inhale.

READ “TIPS ON WRITING BETTER GOD DAMN POETRY, PART ONE”

About these ads

23 thoughts on “TIPS FOR WRITING BETTER GOD DAMN POETRY, PART TWO

  1. Pingback: TIPS FOR WRITING BETTER GOD DAMN POETRY PART ONE | FLASHLIGHT CITY BLUES

  2. Nice post and not just because I was mentioned in it. I might have something to say about this post as well, particularly about writing using your own words and writing poetry that doesn’t whisper; poetry does have a lot to compete with and it’s not going to do well if it’s too quiet to hear or sounds like what every other poet is writing.

  3. Some solid points have gone to and fro you and Vince; and I guess we are seeing you two may be on the same side after all.
    On another note, I see you have fallen in love with “god damn”! Hehehe! I think I follow the passion in your writing without it. Once in a while it’s good to throw in the “sparky” phrase and make people catch a brief epiphany into the depth of your passion, but you can only put so much salt in soup!
    Once again, I commend your thought process.
    And I secretly admire the poetic fraternity between you and Vince.

    • On the god Danny bit, you’re probably right. It’s completely unnecessary, but there’s so many how to articles on writing out there, I wanted to find something to bring a little bite to the article title. Thanks for the feedback. It has been a nice fraternity with Vincent. I’m happy these articles have brought us together more than tearing us apart.

      • Nah! It did good in the title. Was actually referring to the bodies of your writings themselves.

  4. Pingback: Londen Miracle (Instrumental) | right beat radio

  5. Pingback: Poets Are Jerks | Monkey Prodigy

  6. “Write like yourself.” Such a simple concept, yet harder than it sounds. I think some people’s voices just get locked up by the outside world, like in a dream when you’re trying to yell out and can’t quite make the sounds. I think some of us are just lucky enough to wake up screaming.

    • That’s so sad, but it is harder than it sounds. We have a lot of stuff shoved our way as “this is what’s right” or “this is what’s cool”, that sometimes, it’s hard to look inside ourselves to decide how we truly feel.

  7. Good stuff here. I particularly loved this: “Ginsberg didn’t write Howl trying to change the world. He simply howled. That’s the whole thing.”

  8. “…that every bad poem out there is just a prerequisite to a good poem,” great point. This is similar to Anne Lamott’s “shitty first draft” theory, of which I’m a strong believer. You made valid points that I’ve no doubt heard before; but thanks for sharing them in a very refreshing way.

  9. Pingback: You Look Familiar (Instrumental) | right beat radio

  10. “to damn feel your heartbeat”, “..want to hear what you sound like naked naked”! Passion…you don’t say it but every good poet must be driven by the total love of and immersion into the art. Sinking deep, loving totally, fully expressing

      • ^and That, my friend, may be the essence of haiku. I envy those that can say in 3 lines, that which takes me 3 pages (and that’s if I’m being succinct.)

        So much meaning and moonlight (love the Ginsberg) enveloped in 17 “small” syllables.

        I really enjoyed the read, nice work!

  11. Pingback: Poetry’s Potential « Dread Sonnets and Other Grim Folly

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s