nature . art . poetry
We have all hurt someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. We have all loved someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. It is an intrinsic human trait, and a deep responsibility, I think, to be an organ and a blade. But, learning to forgive ourselves and others because we have not chosen wisely is what makes us most human. We make horrible mistakes. It’s how we learn. We breathe love. It’s how we learn. And it is inevitable.
Waheed, N.
{random poetry #114}
[ Why Poetry Can Be Hard for Most People ]
Because speaking to the dead is not something you want to do
When you have other things to do in your day
Like take out the trash or use the vacuum
In the edge between the stove and cupboard
Because the rat is everywhere
Crawling around
Or more so walking
And it doesn’t even notice you
It has its own intentions
And is searching for that perfect bag of potato chips like you once were
Because life is no more important than eating
Or fucking
Or talking someone into fucking
Or talking someone into something
Or sleeping calmly and soundly
And all you can hope for are the people who put that calm in you
Or let you go into it with dignity
Because poetry reminds you
That there is no dignity
In living
You just muddle through and for what
Jack Jack you wrote to him
You wrote to all of us
I wasn’t even born
You wrote to me
A ball of red and green shifting sparks
In my parents’ eye
You wrote to me and I just listened
I listened I listened I tell you
And I came back
No
Poetry is hard for most people
Because of sound
Lasky, D.
{random poetry #113}
Love is metaphysical gravity.
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but evolution is apparently intent
that life in Universe
must survive.
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[ Untitled Epic Poem on the History of Industrialization ]
And so Industrialization grew
uniquely
as the mutual mechanical scientific extension,
comprising precision controls
of energy and time.
And by Industrialization
and its mechanical extension
you and I are both
mutually and at the same time
New York,
Grand Coulee Dam,
The T.V.A., the Washington
The New York Central,
and the Santa Fe,
Route U.S.A 1, from Maine to Key West,
the stratosphere liners, -
they are our mutual
all-age, all-sex,
all-race
flesh and blood extensions.
They are us
we are they
and those who destroy them
or falsely employ them
are our enemies
and the enemy of our God
of the quick, -
they who destroy
are the proponents
of friction, freezing,
inertia and death.
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I'm not trying to counsel any of you to do anything really special except dare to think.
And to dare to go with the truth.
And to dare to really love completely.
Fuller, B. (1895-1983)
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For Fuller, the stuff of poetry is the patterns of human behaviour and the environment,
and the interacting hierarchies of physics and design and industry.
Applewhite, M. (1931-1997), in Cosmic Fishing
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