Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Monday, October 21, 2013

Lording it up like Jerry and Margo two days of the week

It's my usual line: I don't normally do poetry . . . unless it's got a tune behind it but Tracey K. Smith's The Good Life poem caught my eye last night when I was trying to avoid eye contact on the F Train. (If you knew the F Train, you'd understand that statement.)

Click to enlarge.





It's part of the Poetry in Motion series undertaken by the MTA to bring a bit of culture to those of us on the subway who've forgotten their book or their mp3 listening device or their knitted balaclava and who need somewhere to stare whilst their five year old proclaims in a loud voice: 'That seat's not orange, it's yellow. I want the orange seat'. (I'm paraphrasing but you get the gist.)




Saturday, May 18, 2013

Gig: The Life and Times of a Rock-star Fantasist by Simon Armitage (Viking 2008)




On The Road 9

A reading in a cinema complex in Sheffield for the Off the Shelf Festival, followed by a Q & A session on contemporary poetics and related literary topics:

Me: OK, one last question.
Man: In a fist fight between you and Jarvis Cocker, who'd win?
Me: Er . . . I've never met him, but from the pictures I've seen I'd have to fancy my chances.
Man: He's outside.

Friday, December 01, 2006

DH Lawrence does Anti-Flag

Alan's has been rifling through his socialist literature, and reproduced a series of fascinating DH Lawrence poems on his blog. As he mentions in his post, these poems were originally published in 1929 in a volume entitled Pansies, and Alan and myself both spotted them in an old issue of 'World Socialist', which was a theoretical magazine produced by the WSM for a few years in the mid-eighties.
I especially liked the poem reproduced below, though the eyesight is going a bit. At first glance, I thought it was called 'Oi - Start a Revolution', and I suddenly had Lawrence pegged as a proto-Attila the Stockbroker type.
However, if I was psycho-politicising him - don't know what that means, but for the purposes of this post, it'll do - the opening line in the poem would mark him down as a disillusioned Council Communist in my book. The desperate cry of 'Somebody' at the end of the line with the exclamation mark for added emphasis puts him in the spontaneist camp, but with other poems in Alan's post carrying such titles as 'Kill Money'; 'How Beastly The Bourgeois Is'; & 'Money Madness', it means he could also be an Anti-Flag type. Just a shame that with his beard, he looks more like someone who would be playing second guitar in Grandaddy.
O! Start A Revolution

O! start a revolution , somebody!
not to get the money
but to lose it forever.

O! start a revolution , somebody!
not to install the working classes
but to abolish the working classes forever
and have a world of men.