Is it just me?
So here's a poem of Emily's.
It's the first one I've ever read that is immediately understandable.
But it's given as an example of a totally incomprehensible one.
How 'bout?
Or even;
Or, What the hell'
Go figure
Actually, I woke up today with a feeling similar to that.
I'd describe it to you, but I've just done that.
Besides, "feelings" are useless and have no practical value.
I'm sure that today will be no more than the usual click of the conveyor belt that drags us to the edge of the big garbage dump ("transfer station" these days) in the sky.
But I do feel "empowered" what ever that may mean.
I remember a feeling similar to this back in my school days about this time of year when summer vacation was near an end.
I would get psyched up feeling that I was ready, willing and more than able to tear school a new one.
Said feeling tapering off in the first few weeks to the usual boredom and ennui that did so much to ruin the other three seasons.
I find that the Psych book abt Emily was printed in '71 and written in '51
In those days it was considered useful to make up scary stories about "troubled" people and assign labels such as "neurotic" or "psychotic".
Today, of course, we've developed many wondrous drugs to make those who say things we don't want to hear shut up.
Any amount of serious reading about the time in which Emily lived will make it obvious that the only "sane" way to deal with the air headed stupidity of that society was to hide in the attic.
Come to think of it that pretty much defines the situation today.
Whoops! we're back to Thucydides again.
I'll be posting my take on that portion of history soon.
But don't hold your breath.
It's the first one I've ever read that is immediately understandable.
But it's given as an example of a totally incomprehensible one.
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
Your prayers, oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang
Steady - my soul: What issues
Upon thy arrow hang!
How 'bout?
I woke up this morning full of energy
It's kind of scary, even
This is the kind of energy
That can cause great things to happen
Simple beginnings as this
Have created new countries
I've got to stay cool: Who knows
What will happen today.
Or even;
O! What a beautiful morning!
O! What a beautiful day!
I've got a (kind of a scary) beautiful feeling
Everything's going my way.
Or, What the hell'
Goodness - Gracious -
Great balls of Fire!!!
Go figure
Actually, I woke up today with a feeling similar to that.
I'd describe it to you, but I've just done that.
Besides, "feelings" are useless and have no practical value.
I'm sure that today will be no more than the usual click of the conveyor belt that drags us to the edge of the big garbage dump ("transfer station" these days) in the sky.
But I do feel "empowered" what ever that may mean.
I remember a feeling similar to this back in my school days about this time of year when summer vacation was near an end.
I would get psyched up feeling that I was ready, willing and more than able to tear school a new one.
Said feeling tapering off in the first few weeks to the usual boredom and ennui that did so much to ruin the other three seasons.
I find that the Psych book abt Emily was printed in '71 and written in '51
In those days it was considered useful to make up scary stories about "troubled" people and assign labels such as "neurotic" or "psychotic".
Today, of course, we've developed many wondrous drugs to make those who say things we don't want to hear shut up.
Any amount of serious reading about the time in which Emily lived will make it obvious that the only "sane" way to deal with the air headed stupidity of that society was to hide in the attic.
Come to think of it that pretty much defines the situation today.
Whoops! we're back to Thucydides again.
I'll be posting my take on that portion of history soon.
But don't hold your breath.
Labels: Where the pie is
posted by Lane Savant at 10:12 AM
1 Comments:
Your "Variations on a Theme" with Emily's poem is terrific. You are outdoing yourself these days. I posted the original and your variations on FFTR. I appreciated your comments of late as well. Your canoe and river poem was probably superior to my ode to Rick Mobbs Grand Canyon photo image prompt, so I will leave it buried in comments and then it will not outshine my unwieldy poem, SENTINEL.
I is lovely to see you revved up to start a day, rather than lounging in lethargy, or bursting with bathos. Even though, like happiness itself, which is just a momentary reprieve from pain and
strife, your "good feelings" are preferable to their alternatives.
I do not get those fresh and exciting starts on my days much either; but then of course I am still a wage slave, a commuter, a dog owner, and a disabled person, enit?
I was hoping that you might make some mention or comment on my section on "Cowboy Poetry". I have a Frederic Remington book at home that my grandfather left me, that has striking lithographs of many of his painting; a Charlie Russell book too. Maybe the next time we see each other, I will loan them to you, since you like to look at the pictures--or so you say.
On your poetic meanderings relative to Miss E, I found a great Mike Riley painting. I hope you dig it. I scared myself this morning. Until I posted your stuff on FFTR, my count was 1,666 postings, and there was the Devil's numbers, 666, staring me right in the face. So you saved the day, big boy, whether you realize it or not. Sorry that I am so prolific with my postings that it is a chore to slog through them. It was never my intent. Did your like the dozens of lurid pics that I did for the PULP FICTION section. I love that stuff.
Glenn
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