Well maybe i am ridiculously over-hyping Murphy. but he was very good, and
the first sound poet i have heard. This is Ronan's band's "official" site,
where he has 1464 virtual "friends."
http://www.myspace.com/evilharrisons
I only have 120..boo hoo. Saul Williams the American performance/crossover
poet has 66,881; so my goal of becoming a myspace messiah needs your help
dearest pretend pals, please help me inflate my ego, be my friend..ha
ha..only joking.
But seriously thought, this is all one needs to fulfill the basic call and
return of poetry, what Kavanagh called "the simplicity of going away and the
simplicity of return"; in our effort to reach "the final simplicity" of "not
caring if we appear foolish.."
This is when we become a fully "practicing" poet in the purest and most
obviously logic sense, of rehearsing in public; like a child at play, in a
world of their own; unconscious of the watching eyes and a state where every
"performance" is only a rehearsal for the next time we perform/rehearse or
"practice" our Art.
This critical position whereby i rationalise poetry to be nought but a call
and return needing only two voices to play an online game with the goal of
outing our humanity, becoming oneself in print, uncaring of appearing
foolish; was not arrived at overnight after some random Cage like chance
exercise; but six years of hard slog; 13 hours a day of solid thinking and
study. A programme of instinctual learning, engineered as much by more
accident as design, which ran as parallel as possible - it is clear to me
now - to the training one received in the bardic schools; as my blind swim
involved the taking in and on of the four cycles of goidelic myth.
This was my insurance policy that none would be able to contest the pretend
i wished to engage in, of being a poet; and training under Bob Sheppard was
perfectly poetic in and of itself. My natural leaning, i confess, is
programmed towards the lyric state, and so what better way to begin
acquiring a career than in whatever school of poetic nomenclature applicable
to Sheppard.
I also admit, the critical prose i believe on most and have as the bar and
bible is Heaney's. I have read none as eloquent or convincing, as - to my
ear - he proves in prose, why his reputation as the worlds number one native
English speaking poet is so, and i make no apology for that.
I am not here to defend Heaney, and to my mind, i think that all the hoo ha
and critical brick bats thrown his way, is nought but professional jealousy
of his those with less linguistic talent, as Heaney makes it look
effortless. Conceals the Love and sheer graft that comes when one becomes
addicted to dabbling in verse and it takes over their life. When Heaney
talks in prose of poetry, 95% of the time, it is affirmational and praising
the work under his gaze, and when he does release his rare barb, the
recipient aint recovering from the wound. Basically most who slag him off,
do so safe in the knowledge he will never respond to them, and i have never
read a remotely convincing critical argument for Heaney being rubbish.
And i bet he knows his four cycles.
So this is all we need in the daily diary, where we can just waffle on owt
we wunt. One sinple response. One writer says summat, another replies,
simple practice, rehearsing our ideas in print, looking foolish at the
beginning, but getting better the more we blather.
If i dropped a bale of bricks, some sand and cement and asked you to build a
wall, your first one would be crap, look "foolish" and so would your second,
third etc. Some wouold get the know and knack much quicker than others, and
the slower developing ones may be tempted to jack it in, the acquiring of a
wall building skill, especially if the environment is one where the smart
arse one line retort is la de riguer model, where everyone is afraid to have
a go coz some unfeeling gob is loudly laughing at their efforts.
But if we try to be honest, be ourselves and fail first, fail better as
Bernstein said, and if he didn't i am sure he would agree; as Charles is the
Heany of langpo innit? The stationary force around which all else orbits,
and he is no different from shay, in that he is doing it for Love, and
having a giggle, enjoying himself first, as the pre-requisite of his
practice. Anyone who saw his audacious and brilliant once in a career poem
in Jacket a few years back, knows this. The one which was a blank space and
Charles had summat like "insert poem here."
Who but a man in the full of his power and uncaring of appearing foolish
coul;d have pulled that one off. If i sent John Tranter that, i wouldn't
have even got a rejection e mail, as he would have thought i was taking the
mick. SO, think on, bardic poetry, the only one which the lyric and langpo
mob are equally ignorant of, and thus the pretender addicted to serious
proofs in verse, can be claimed by all camps..Love and peace..call and
return..
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