I ain't got no PR email for you today, but ...
I've got a new poem!
'Yippee!'
It's called On the island ... only eighteen lines, but it's pretty good. Well, great, I reckon. It's not easy making a short poem a great poem. / Regular readers might guess that it's about the hot tornado. Yeah, sure. It's also about the general confusion you get in your head with, you know ... a hot summer in Cornwall.
Anyway, it starts off all traditional but sort of breaks down into free verse. I'm trusting my instincts a lot with this poetry writing. A bit like my conceptuals, which are really like Karate Kid shit - if you know what I mean. I mean, the poem only took me two hours to write on Friday, although I had to rewrite something that I thought was a great phrase on Saturday.
You see, these days, if you get any great phrases ... you really have to Google them to make sure they're original. However, not everything you write in a poem needs to be original. I mean, if you write, "The sun is shining" ... Ha! ... you know that's been written a million times before, right? And it's not a serious problem. But if you come up with a great phrase that you think has a chance of becoming famous, like, oh, I don't know ... "To be, or not to be" ... you better make sure it's never been said before.
'It has been said before.'
Whatever, Voice.
All my phrases are fine, anyway, except for that one on Saturday. I was pissed off about it, but after an hour or so I managed to come up with something even better to replace it with, so - 'All's well that ends well, Mikey.' No! That's Shakespeare, idiot. 'Yeah, I know it is, idiot!'
Eh?
What's he going on about, kooks?
Never mind.
Anyway, two great short poems -
High Windows by Philip Larkin
and
So, We'll Go No More a-Roving by Lord Byron
You dig?
On the island
At the moment, I'm only putting the first letter of my titles in capitals. That might change. It's a confusing thing, and from what I can see, poets aren't always consistent with it.
Never mind.
Anyway, now that I'm being forced in this poetry direction I'm going to make the most of the situation and become obsessed.
Being obsessed and focused and desperate just like Alexander on his horse charging the Persian front line by himself is the best way to get rid of anxiety and troubles and a lack of resources or anything bad.
Do you dig?
I have a new ten-year plan, which may or may not have music in it but it won't have blogging.
I don't care about my age.
I don't care about having to wander the cliffs and beaches.
I don't care about negative thoughts.
I don't care about fear.
Listen! ...
The cosmos wants this.
My astrologer - who was a big poetry freak - wants it.
The ghost of W. B. Yeats wants it.
I am powerless to fight back against these forces. I must obey. So be it!
Laters.
