he only started writing hard after he was raped by the paris communards. he'd gone to paris to be with the cool revolutionaires, and they simply treated him like boy-meat. to say that he felt really fucked by the whole thing is to put it lightly. so, that's when he hooked up with verlaine and they got it on, and then verlaine turned into just another generic closet pansy and that was a mind fuck.
the thing about rimbaud was that his mother shouldn't have been allowed to raise a son by herself -- she hated men, hated his father and took it out on young rimbaud. rimbaud had talent for rhetorizing words -- making verse: he went through a very strenuous course of learning latin and learning to write latin verse. he turned that around and started doing things in french. i'm saying that he didn't pop out from behind a tree like some bedroom-community half-wit with a copy of 'siddartha' and a notebook. what is real is that he used his poetry to write his reality -- he didn't become a morphine-head or street hustler -- he was small-bourgeois, precious, totally emo until the commune, and simply wrote his way into the world. what's different from him and what he called 'word-shitters', is that he knew he was a poet, not a lover or a philosopher, and pushed and wailed on everyone until they recognized him.
maybe the realist thing about him is that he was libra, and totally really only into society's trip, being burnt that he was queer and couldn't take part in the vanity faire, couldn't figure out what's what, because he was so angry at his mother and father. and, when the world came down and he didn't have any reason to write poetry anymore, he gave it up and dropped back into bourgeois -- the whole africa thing was to prove that he was his father's son -- famous military guy.
the tragedy is that he died young, before he became old, before he could actually invent a new french poetry -- he could have -- and save french poetry from insipid philosophizing and communard socialist realism. that happened to Yeats, you know -- yeats grew out of emo froo-froo in his last days.
poetry is real -- anyone is nothing until they invent their reality.
too much good information in my comment. better get the mod to delete it, since just sticking out your tongue at me makes you seem like a brat. do you even know what an 'rimbaud' is?
he didn't die young.
and you haven't even come close to tackling the poem. you're only
concerned about rimbaud? you silly fuck.
it's not a poem, hank, it's a piece of dribble.
poetry drys -- is this supposed to be so profound? because if you're going to have a gun in the picture ( rimbaud ) you'd better use it. poetry is a medium for breaking language, but all you've done is must arrange some flower-words into a circle.
'write while young fresh' is totally arty syntax, just cuteness. 'exclamate' -- so, what i'm saying is that rimbaud didn't fuck around being arty, he had to say what he said. also, and here's the point, he could say what he said. you're saying whatever you can say, but it's hallmark.
if you want to be a dog, bite.
and, he did die young -- he was thirty-seven, which is like junior to the real world -- just still wet and hardly even a man. all his concerns up till then were about being a man, becoming a man. when you're a man, you worry about losing your consciousness, losing your focus and reality. since the world is actually based on consciousness, old people actually talk about the Universals in life, not just 'spawning'.
it's not about rimbaud, it's about poetry. when rimbaud called people like Hugo 'word-shitters' he wasn't doing a baby-rant, he was doing a number on poetry as real.
again, the point in saying what rimaud was is to show that it's not about letting little expressions of glimp -- that it's about using your poetry to get over being 'young', because life is totally against young -- otherwise, you'd actually stay that way. whatever doesn't age, rots.
looks like the pedophile Mike Bauer is trolling another victim of his excessive ego and need to prove just how right he is.
Hank, we recommend you delete and repost this poem to remove Bauers spam and trolling.
who is rimaud?
rimaud is the fifty-seven hundredth reverse-incarnation of antoine artaud. you can see why this would cause a religious war.
by the way, the only thing needs to be talked about here, not 'proved' is the use of a proper name in a poem. the obvious failures are the ones about some joe -- like, 'rimbaud, when i think of you i want to buy new shoes' -- a kind of poetry we get here often.
speaking of pedos, i guess rimbaud actually was one. should hank not have his name in a poem?
isn't the real lesson of rimbaud that young people can't write fresh? that all they can do is write the negative they get from their parents? like, when a kid says 'god-damn!', as though god had anything to do with it.
so, using rimbaud as a poster boy for jim morrison squeeking, using the poster to, what? buzz some middle-aged guys into feeling smug...? -- kind of obvious?
sometimes kids write what is direct writing, but none of the high-class poets here in p.c. really like that kind of grammatically improper and misspelled wording in their poetry party.
really, Hank. delete and repost this. it's a shame your poem has been covered in bauers shit.
the point for a critical writer, is that it hasn't been covered in anything but insightful comments. you're the one smearing ugly on it. hank's smart and he can take care of himself. you're just the avon lady selling scented soap.
avoid name-dropping -- all it does is make you look like you don't really have anything to say.
Shouldn't it be "dries" or am I just being a spelling/grammar Nazi??
it's not a poem, hank, it's a piece of dribble.
How about "drivel?"
no, i don't think so. the image was that it kind of fell off the pen, but it's not trivial -- i think that's what i'm reacting to. it's saying, 'be a kid, don't think'. and, i think that as kids, all we should do is think, since most of our motion is reactionary against parents and authority and towards the ephemeral and empty.
your opinion doesn't mean anything, bauer.
sp, wait, dribble doesn't mean the same thing as drivel?
but you said it was dribble and now you're saying it isn't.
the only consistency is your hypocrisy, bauer. you can't even agree with yourself.
go make a new fake account on your site to lie to yourself about people being interested in what you have to say.
engaging commentary while the cut-down prose is more exclamation than poetry ...
the commentary is not engaging at all
'dribble' is a verb, people. 'drivel' is a concept. the image is of these words dribbling off the pen, like ink... that is, flowing with little control.
dribble is also a concept. you're not smart enough to create. only bullshit.
image > concept
you can't even see your own failures in the same single sentence you confuse yourself with.
bauer, please continue to fail. it amuses us.
how many new fake accounts are there on your shitty little nothing site today?
dribble as image is certainly conceptual and not a verb, in the sense it's trying to be used.
is bauer really this retarded?
"the image is of these words dribbling"
this is a conceptual phrase. dribble like drivel is being used exactly the same. does bauer really think no one else can think?
bauer cannot create.
only bullshit that he can.
'plath' made a joke on my word 'dribble' by changing it to 'drivel'. OED says 'drivel' is saliva running down the mouth. i don't think that about this piece, but i do think that it was written in too glib a fashion.
'drivel' would mean that the entire concept was spoiled. the concept is about youth and expression, and nothing more. i'm commenting, not that youth is wrong, but that seeing youthful writing as somehow unspoiled and raw is an illusion. the concept on the table now, is: can we escape our native language? our parent's way of bending language to fit the family mode of coping with life? and, if we can, how does that happen? and, i'm saying that it happened for rimbaud because he was traumatized by the people he thought were the adults he wanted to become -- that they used him, in effect, like his mother used him: as a dishrag.
so, just being young doesn't mean you're able to write edge or real -- look at all the emo poetry we all wrote when we were 15 -- so pretentious, so name-dropping and contrived to sound ironic and clever.
that being so, is there actual verbal 'genius' -- apart from the fact that sometone's writing something you're maybe reading as an idea for the first time -- which means only that you didn't know the concept before, and now you do.
you fail, bauer.
no matter how you try to worm your way out of it, you are a hypocrite full of your own shit.
we see you for the fake you are.
what's that? a new piece of butthurt?
bauer is so butthurting at being ripped to shreds so easily.
perhaps he can dribble his sorry ass back to his shitty site to write how butthurt he is.
picking my nose is more interesting that what bauer writes
you're the one who misunderstood and then forced your wrong interpretation on the discussion. you're saying that plath and i don't understand the concept, but you're working off a misinterpretation, a simple person's folk understanding of what the word means. that's not good enough here, and all of us know it.
you're fired as a critic.
it really never occurred to me that you guys would only know 'dribble' from basketball. OED shows it as i knew it, from 1580's, as a spurting.
only knowing the word dribble as a basketball term is ok in basketball, but in a poetry workshop, not to realize your ignorance is embarrassing to the rest of us.
only a fool such as bauer considers others to be lacking in intelligence.
it is his failure to not see that we do not care what he thinks or says, and we actively do not seek to engage with him on any serious level but use him for our amusement.
there is nothing he can say, no matter how many times he tries to divert our attention from the fact he is a hypocrite whose existence is perpetuated by the stink of his own shit.
bauer is so butthurt.
his butt has been hurting for about 60 years.
ever since he first became aware of what a fucking retard he is.
you also don't seem to care what hank wrote and how he wrote it. talking about me isn't increasing your IQ... you don't have enough smarts to get over it and just look at the poem, like i do, and see what you see.
talk about the poem. "write while young" -- you're getting old.
fuck off, mike.
poor mike, so butthurt.
Oh well, sometimes you just gotta' say it simple, like country music, which'll go for the 'heart' and not the 'head' games - we all 'know' too much, so 'head' jobs are unsatisfying and cliche' in laconic irony, while poems ought to batter the head and pierce the heart with what you say... Philosophy is the after-glow of what you think you know, whilst Poetry is a mirthful-daemon licking at your inner-ear making the feeling, a visceral now and here; the infinite-in, that place where deep calls to deep, where you listen to a music which only the heart can hear, spoken in that uncommonest of tongues, with silence, that sweet language of Soul, an ancient-ache of Love ya' know ...
i think the point of this site is to write like rimbaud, not write about our feelings about rimbaud. like, who really would care? his mother?
i think the point of this site is for you to fuck off, james.
what you think is worthless. you think rimbaud would sit and agree with you?? what if he turned out to be like me -- which is more likely than his being like you. what would you do, little unk? wet the bed? or, would you turn it over and write the real poem about your sex problem and quit trying to make everyone talk about anything in the world but sex? unless, they talk dirty, of course... the way you like it. fucker.
what you think is worthless, james. now, fuck off.
what power do you have, except to anger the mod and make her slap all the kids in the backseat? i can take it. my mom was a typical psychotic 1950's mother.
what power do you have? other than stalking children on this site hoping for a catch.
how is it i knew what exclamate means, without knowing what it means?
if this was two lines shorter, it would be much sweeter.
maybe it's because poets invent language to fit the mode and mood, and hank's been writing for a long time. the words we invent get put in the dictionary, but dictionary words are just frozen-chat and not much good to a poet. we use words which sound like regular words, but we see them clearly and hear them and let them fall into our poem.
if we could just write only for ourselves, we'd invent a whole new syntax.
but, my advice to you is not to mistake poetry for smart-text and wise opinion. the energy and truth of a poem is how it's written. isn't that intuitively why you want to change it, make it shorter? maybe it just needs to be made more like a song.
a tongue whirls words with silence
in-between what we said and what we mean…
hear infinity in the conch of our ears hissing there,
making us aware of rhythms deep inside;
while liquid last eyes
dare to see the numinous dissolving-us
into an ephemeral shining at the back of our mind,
illuminating the limits of the fatal skin-we're-in,
and they beckon us to taste, to drink and
to make within, their word-water into wine -
ignore the advice of the pedophile cadmium
good lord kids...that was interesting reading.
never stop bickering...but please be kind to each other.
and...'drys' vs. 'dries' was considered very carefully.
This is great. Witty and precise.