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Our Nameless Art

by Enkeliina
Posted to Diaries, Diary on Mon May 03, 2004 at 06:14:11 PM PST
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  Poetry and paintings - In books and television.  They're inserted into the main media and designated as poor or even bad (or worse - good).  I protest.  This is weak thinking.  
  Why cannot the author strive for something a little dangerous (such as a limerick) and simply let it stand without excusing it at every turn?  If the poem is not written by another famed poet and simply quoted in the book, the author shivers in fear of critics and claims, "It is not good, but I wrote it anyway."  It's published and people respond.  Is that not good enough?  Often I read a story and wish I could write so well in lyrical verse.  Then I huddle and shiver myself.  I have a secret book of poetry, too.  Shhhhh . . .

  Then the true pet peave, paintings imitating life, but worse than that, imitating good taste.  Films of critical repute should have their set directors shaken.  Who could believe that pastel, pasty, clay-like, attempt-at-a-likenss, could even be named art?  The actors can barely glance in the direction of those atrocities as they bravely claim it to be an ancestor of great reknown or even a beloved.  

  Shame on us all for allowing poetry in our midst without a little praise for the laughter and tears that "bad" poetry inspires within us.  Shame on us for allowing bad art into the main stream.  Let's not give the emperor's tailers their due. And can we not allow the "limericists" their righful acclaim.  Could you write it any better?  (As a half cracked artist I couldn't do any worse.)

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Our Nameless Art | 1 comment (1 topical, 0 hidden)
Regarding "Bad Poetry" (5.00/1) (#1)
by Martooni on Thu May 06, 2004 at 04:37:23 AM PST
I posted this piece on a poetry board I follow in response to the never-ending flood of love/angst/pain poems posted there by younger writers. I love the fact that young writers are out there and go out of my way to encourage the talented ones. But a lot of what shows up is simply recycled and unoriginal "woe is me", "i love U, Y don't U love ME" crap by self-centered writers with little or no command of even the basics of language.

Here's my little rant/advice poem for the ones who take themselves too seriously:

(oh... and btw... I usually refrain from rhyming, but that's the only way to be taken seriously by the beginners)

Hear Old Drunk Poet Speak

Arrogant little swains,
you write like sages, claim
love and angst and pain
as your sole domain,
as if you were the first to taste
the sweets and sours of fate.

Can't accept that Mommy
took Daddy in her mouth,
that Daddy went way south,
refused to pull out,
that anyone over 30 has thought
the same things you do now.

Hear old drunk poet speak:
your angst is no freak
and neither is your pique,
your love is no more sweet
than when Mommy met Daddy discrete,
uglies bumping in a back seat.

Love is more than wishes,
angst more common than dishes,
and pain, universal, swishes
razors and blades, inflicts
punishment unilaterally, whips
all who feel and give a shit.

So don't feel the worst,
you're most definitely not the first.

Janra, if this is inappropriate content/language, I'll understand if you axe it.

Our Nameless Art | 1 comment (1 topical, 0 hidden)
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