From the Desk of PastaNazi

DopeBeastie
Posts: 2,513
Bow-legged rock stars walked like gods.
Physically enamored
Heavy amps and guitars
........................................................guitars
Slinky sweaters. Underbrush hair.
Sky-wrinkled smiles on thin lips.
It doesn't matter how ugly they are.
The infathomably gorgeous souls don't know
they're bound in salt and H-2-O...
Ions screeking, bouncing up the walls of their throats to get out? ............................>
Get Out to the page and the stage and the dream of being a song, screaming?
Bending strings on a machine? Drum beats?
.................................................................................................Sheeps, bleating?
I inhales deep!
How the rock stars walk, back lit through halls,
hitching.
Pitching air.
Grabbing at everyhing hanging down.
They just know they're there.
Physically enamored
Heavy amps and guitars
........................................................guitars
Slinky sweaters. Underbrush hair.
Sky-wrinkled smiles on thin lips.
It doesn't matter how ugly they are.
The infathomably gorgeous souls don't know
they're bound in salt and H-2-O...
Ions screeking, bouncing up the walls of their throats to get out? ............................>
Get Out to the page and the stage and the dream of being a song, screaming?
Bending strings on a machine? Drum beats?
.................................................................................................Sheeps, bleating?
I inhales deep!
How the rock stars walk, back lit through halls,
hitching.
Pitching air.
Grabbing at everyhing hanging down.
They just know they're there.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
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dedicated to Radiohead0
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very enjoyable.. and true too, for the most part...
in like this part the best..
"get out to the page and the stage and the dream
of singing or screaming or bending strings in a machine"
--very rhythmic, quick-like, and poignant... well done.i'm a thief... and a liar...
see Ed's church?--he's breathing fire.....0 -
...nice...I'll dig a tunnel
from my window to yours0 -
Yes, but do they need a cup of soup when they are sick, too?
Give me strength, give me chicken noodle.There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird0 -
chicken noodle, lol...
most assuredly, chicken noodle... and humidifiers and antihisthamines... all that good stuff
thanks red & timr...
cya's0 -
wow... I love it...
fav line
definatlythe infathomably gorgeous souls
don't know they're bound in salt
... gives you hope dont it?Pillowed Footsteps Dig my Grave0 -
<these are smiles, lol>0
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you know, the poets were treated like rock stars once apon a time, the good ones anyway, that whole Byronic hero thing, ah to be born in the wrong century.0
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Dreams of Red wrote:very enjoyable.. and true too, for the most part...
in like this part the best..
"get out to the page and the stage and the dream
of singing or screaming or bending strings in a machine"
--very rhythmic, quick-like, and poignant... well done.I'm with ya, DoR! Goodonya, PN!
Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen0 -
EvilToasterElf wrote:you know, the poets were treated like rock stars once apon a time, the good ones anyway, that whole Byronic hero thing, ah to be born in the wrong century.
must have been quite the culture for the privileged.
certainly I lived, then... but I wonder if I knew how to read?0 -
PastaNazi wrote:must have been quite the culture for the privileged.
certainly I lived, then... but I wonder if I knew how to read?
as if the ability to read has led people to the ability to think. Nice offering anyway, your stuff is getting better0 -
yes but if the poets were the rockstars of yesteryear then the rock stars can be the poets of today.
I like your spew pastanazi.Salut baloo0 -
burtschips wrote:yes but if the poets were the rockstars of yesteryear then the rock stars can be the poets of today.
I like your spew pastanazi.
Pop music has killed poetry.0 -
hey yeah... if you could get me that guy's number?
i've secret love children to bear
witness?
(tee hee... seriously... that's really cool)
0 -
EvilToasterElf wrote:Pop music has killed poetry.
I blame Hollywood. Publishers and editors put all their money on sexy new novelists whose formulaic books equal film rights. A lot of literary fiction and poetry consequently gets sidelined. Even on BBC Radio Four, film, abridgeable prose fiction and even discussion of the visual arts will get more airplay than poetry, short or long. There's no money in poetry, and the book world is money driven and chasing the film and television industries.0 -
EvilToasterElf wrote:as if the ability to read has led people to the ability to think. Nice offering anyway, your stuff is getting better
oh, well. i meant... how didth byron become heroic if circulation happened only by mouth? i'm so used to this asceptic exchange, you know? the READ, as it were...
thanks. i appreciate the nod0 -
Besides, equating life to cashflow is like equating the ability to read with the ability to think. While influence exists, they aren't synonymous.0
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PastaNazi wrote:Besides, equating life to cashflow is like equating the ability to read with the ability to think. While influence exists, they aren't synonymous.
Oral and unpublished literary culture perpetuates regardless of market forces, true. But in days gone by, minor fiction and poetry often stayed underground not because it was radical but because it didn't particularly challenge the dominant ideology: It's striking that the bestselling fiction and poetry of the nineteenth and early-to-mid twentieth century was largely the most able to construct a discourse of competing belief-systems and power relations. And I've spoken with feminist scholars and critics keen to investigate marginal works by women authors of, say, the eighteenth century, who expressed disappointment that perhaps these books didn't make it to the top, not because they were written by women rather than men, but rather maybe because they just perpetuated formal, stylistic and ideological/political givens and didn't say anything challenging or new.
I think however we try to redefine the literary canon, the novels, plays and poems that have effected the most cultural influence tended until pretty recently to be - largely - at least reasonably successful financially. There aren't that many Van Goghs in the book world. Even Sylvia Plath was well known as a bit of a writer-celebrity, at least in England.0 -
FinsburyParkCarrots wrote:I blame Hollywood. Publishers and editors put all their money on sexy new novelists whose formulaic books equal film rights. A lot of literary fiction and poetry consequently gets sidelined. Even on BBC Radio Four, film, abridgeable prose fiction and even discussion of the visual arts will get more airplay than poetry, short or long. There's no money in poetry, and the book world is money driven and chasing the film and television industries.
Although Hollywood has destroyed much more than it's given, I don't know if the poetry genre was so radically effected by it. I think it does seem more likely to have been gobbled up by a growing music industry which took all the rhyme and meter of the romantics and butchered it with the love of a parent drowning their child. Because there is certainly money in music, people certainly remember the lyrics of their favorite songs. But I don't think Hollywood is totally blameless either. The Brits still far and away read more books than we Yanks do.0 -
somebody write..
another..
love somebody left somebody love song..
or is it..
somebody done somebody wrong song..
and if you rhyme with me,
i'll make you sum money..
HEY..
how 'bout another done somebody wrong song..
..
cash donations accepted.
email or pm and i will accept cash.
and if this doesn't work, i will turn to jesus
and i will accept the same cache donations for the glory of acceptable and reasonable moral values, widely accepted as those of these who are predisposed to a heavenly range ahead..
but HEY
how 'bout another red neck country tainted love song,
and after this is gone,
can we carry on,
with juice us alone,
can we be alone?
Rachel Rox!Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green0
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