You know, the Yeats/Heaney poetry battle on the beach?
Anyway, kooks ...
I've been thinking about it these last few days. I've had loads of great mystical dreams in my life, but this one was definitely the greatest, and most impressive - as a message.
However ...
Why wasn't I "allowed" to remember any of the lines of Yeats' new poem?
Well, it was clearly his poem, in his voice, and it was better than any poem he wrote while he was alive, so ... taking any of the lines for myself wouldn't have been "mystical inspiration", it would have been plain and simple plagiarism.
So, there it is.
But one interesting thing ... was Seamus Heaney's reaction to the poem. That is something I can remember very clearly: he was smiling and even laughing. I can see his face now.
He was in awe, even though Yeats was destroying him with words. What does this tell you, and me? Obviously, it was a VERY(!) great poem. We don't need to know the words. Heaney's reaction said it all.
And this is why I'm into poetry (again) in such a full and committed way. Not a dilettantish, half-hearted way.
Do you understand???
That was the intention of the dream.
And this dream came to me in the early hours of Christmas Day morning - as a present, no doubt.
Listen ...
Death is not the end.
You can write poetry when you're dead.
And ...
Your achievements in life will go on to your cosmic CV.
That's for certain.
It's the only CV that matters, man - if you want to get ahead in lives.
I mean, just look at Yeats! He's having a wonderful time!
'Time of his lives, Mikey! But don't forget your astrologer.'
I haven't forgotten him, Voice.
He knew thirty years ago. Yes, I'm fifty-four, like he said I would be.
'Don't forget your circumstances.'
Christ! I haven't forgotten my circumstances! How could I? The ghost of Yeats, my astrologer, and my circumstances ... have all come together to push me in one direction.
'Orchestrated by the cosmos.'
Yes, yes, I know. Orchestrated by the cosmos. I'm not stupid, Voice. This isn't by my design. I didn't ask for this.
The cosmos has willed it!
BUT WHY?
If I didn't desire it ...
If I actually desired something else ...
Two things else: music, and conceptual literature.
WHY?!
That is the big question of the century, and ...
I have no answer.
...
Oh, by the way, I tried one of those artificial intelligence poetry generators on Saturday.
I started off by entering the titles of famous poems, and the robot created its own ludicrous versions of those poems.
'Ha!'
Then I entered original titles and themes that I made up, and ... that was a lot better.
'Oh.'
However, for you poets out there ... I think I know how we can smash these metal muthas into junk ...
'Yippee!'
Firstly, these robots seem to prefer traditional verse because of the rules they are able to follow with their programming, like. So ... it might be better to write mainly in free verse. With every free verse poem, the poet has to create their own plan or rules for that particular poem. It's difficult, but it's more artistically satisfying - as I've recently discovered. Also, it's harder for AI to compete with that.
Secondly, AI can't really "think", so it thinks in utterly conventional ways. Top poets can think in unconventional ways. So do that then. You've got to be "top" though, obviously.
Thirdly, these robots can't phrase-make for shit. (Can't think!) Nor can most poets - not at the highest level anyway. (Shakespeare!) So phrase-making becomes even more important. And you can check the originality of your phrases by Googling them and hopefully getting no results.
Fourthly, filler poems are dead now. Totally dead. Don't write them, man. Just don't bother.
If you fill, you won't kill ... the machines!
'You're a poet, Mikey!'
Yeah, yeah.
Laters.
...
You know, maybe the cosmos wants me to be the leader of the human resistance ...
