Anti-Convulsive Therapy

Beauty will be convulsive
or will not be at all.

André Breton, Nadja

 

While some ephemeral forms of art may be so, true poetry is neither convulsive nor spasmodic. Sneezing is spasmodic. Epilepsy is convulsive. Orgasms are convulsive and spasmodic. Birth and Death are often spasmodic and convulsive.  But poetry, REAL poetry must never be considered such.

How can mere protoplasmic/organic shuddering be mistaken for poetry.? How can linguistic implosions and semantic expulsions be confused with well-ordered and considerately-crafted coherence? Apollo shines a light by which huntresses kill prey—while Dionysos simply falls off his donkey and vomits. Can impulsive voidings of incoherent language be entertained as creative writing with any actual value? Is an involuntary regurgitation of verbiage to be as seriously considered as a well-structured  utterance? If so, then an adolescent doodle in the margin is as worthy of celebration as the Mona Lisa. Pinball is Poetry and abrasive noise is Music. It logically follows that all things are as valuable (and as worthless) as all other things in a nihilistic universe.

If readers become accustomed to convulsive vomitings in the name of poetry, coherent writing will finally appear alien and unworthy of note.

Is spasmodic frenzy inherently holy (in an artistic context) or is it nothing more than glorified twitching of the autonomic nervous system? Much modernist and most post-modernist poetry is not only dull, but destined to failure, while traditional conservative coherence represents the current counterculture and will endure the test of time.

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Hell’s Thousand Thrones: Dim West

LO! Death has reared himself a throne

In a strange city lying alone

Far down within the dim West,

Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best

Have gone to their eternal rest.

There shrines and palaces and towers

(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)

Resemble nothing that is ours.

Around, by lifting winds forgot,

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

No rays from the holy heaven come down

On the long night-time of that town;

But light from out the lurid sea

Streams up the turrets silently —

Gleams up the pinnacles far and free —

Up domes — up spires — up kingly halls —

Up fanes — up Babylon-like walls —

Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers

Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers —

Up many and many a marvellous shrine

Whose wreathed friezes intertwine

The viol, the violet, and the vine.

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

So blend the turrets and shadows there

That all seem pendulous in air,

While from a proud tower in the town

Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves

Yawn level with the luminous waves;

But not the riches there that lie

In each idol’s diamond eye —

Not the gaily-jewelled dead

Tempt the waters from their bed;

For no ripples curl, alas!

Along that wilderness of glass —

No swellings tell that winds may be

Upon some far-off happier sea —

No heavings hint that winds have been

On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!

The wave — there is a movement there!

As if the towers had thrown aside,

In slightly sinking, the dull tide —

As if their tops had feebly given

A void within the filmy Heaven.

The waves have now a redder glow —

The hours are breathing faint and low —

And when, amid no earthly moans,

Down, down that town shall settle hence.

Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,

Shall do it reverence.

 

 

 

     The City in the Sea

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 1849)


Gender Diversity: Death to Grammar!

Gender-based grammar is inherently sexist and oppressive. Grammar itself is a hateful, rigid, and often overtly racist construct. It is little more than an imposed control system which attempts to assign roles and reinforce identities that facilitate social regimentation. Such patriarchal occidental euro-supremacist control must be resisted at the socio-linguistic level of grammar itself. Traditional family structure reinforces and justifies this linguistic oppression, and will be forced to adapt or be rendered obsolete.  Fathers and Mothers shall inevitably yield to others.

Useless vestiges of the fascistic Roman tongue such as Italian, Spanish French, Portuguese, Catalan and Romanian, along with all associated Romance-derived dialects must evolve toward current progressive understandings of gender-fluid reality or be abandoned. The new linguistic realpolitik of openness and meta-sexual progress shall spread throughout the Global Community.  We now have NO CHOICE but to ban gender-based grammars and the inherently bigoted languages that employ them. Romance Language suffixes aside, and eschewing all bigoted subject pronouns, it’s time to celebrate absurdity perversity DIVERSITY.

As a global and genderfluid re-evaluation of rigid and outmoded languages develops, humanity will make significant strides toward collective empowerment, both lexical and sexual. Desire will be freed from patriarchal norms and find itself free to cathect onto the object of its enlightened choice. False and patriarchal notions of singular/plural will no longer be inflicted on unrestrained multiplicities of being. All genders shall converge in variegated Oneness.

We won’t need no more significators to point out a practices that meaning a nothings man out the reified racists of language herself as pronouned “other”.

We is SHE and SHE are them. Boo ya peanut verbicate up the penguin baboons adder abbot shahooligalistaaphany.

Urgh URGH  I are free! Bort gurk grammar break ump ump humpty daffodil. It am not we is significate ourselves into oblivion.