Avant-guard, quasi-political, art movement to join.

I am of course looking for one of the really good ones which cuddle in close to your current thinking and simply grant a new vocabulary with which to confront the ultimate mystery that has always been there, taunting you. I’ve done my research into the good ones of the past, read of their ideals and attempts at bringing them to fruition with a tender, and almost painful nostalgia.

I know I can’t be the only one out there consumed with these strange desires to make my very life into a sort of art, so that everyday can be a day where I spring out of bed, eager to confront this contemporary reality with a deep and abiding humor that almost reaches mysticism.

The rub here is that I’d really like to start one, but am unsure how to begin, (besides of course the action of posting these strange and savage pleas onto the great memo-board of the internet).

there are moments
when i think i’m halfway there,

finishing off the backpack i just bought,
scissors and razor-blades, magic markers
to remove or obscure
anything that could be construed as
advertising

but these small actions
are never enough
to save me

i finished by sewing
my lorax patch,
(which is now riding
its third backpack)
on with pliers,
it’s tough to force a
needle through so
much material
it’s tough to force
an artistic ideal
into the world

And yet I keep trying, trying to take in as much information as I possibly can in the hopes of distilling something helpful from the glut of disseminated media that has become the back-bone (perhaps the bane) of modern existence.

Tonight all I really want to do is write sentences like Pynchon, long sprawling mini-epics in their own right, that veer along long lines of distracted tangents and somehow manage to feel important. Tonight I just want to load up a few meager possessions in my reclaimed backpack and make for the hills, let the trees save me since my earlier attempts at environmental activism (themselves perhaps worthy fodder for a post I really should write) couldn’t save them.

A lot of this is reaction to talking plant’s post, because I want to save the world defenestrated contains enough subtle meaning to make me laugh and sigh at the same time, and Tom Fullery (blast his foolish hide for exposing such secrets) managed to touch on a fundamental truth of how it feels to be on this side of so much cognition. It must have been so much easier to be a philosopher when you could still see the stars.

But before descending into a pit of private melancholy allow me to state that I wouldn’t trade my place here for anything. I decided along time ago that society is not what must be fought, society is the fight that we are engaged in. And I really do hate to use violent imagery, but it’s apropos of something.

excuse me for
well this…
but this is a fair
approximation
of the life i would sincerely love
to live

and am trying to

veering in between
fragments of thought
and fragments of poetics
which, while containing thought
do so unfaithfully
and such is their beauty
being principally beasts of imagery
(except in my clumsy hands)
and thus open to interpretation
from whatever mythos you happen
to claim as your own

For sometime now I’ve been struggling with this idea that it’s not nearly as important what you believe in, what really matters is that you believe.

(and i hope that at least one of you hypothetical readers find that line as humorous as i do)

And running under the humor that strikes luminous sparks off the above line, I present as way of finishing this disjointed moment. . . the definition of apropos. . .

Being at once opportune and to the point.

thank you dictionary.com

that’s what I’m looking for . . .
a belief structure
at once opportune and
to the point

the problem is that
you must define
the point
and still manage to
smile and believe

Wanted : Avant-guard, quasi-political, art movement to join.

if you know of one
please let me know
all these fleeting motivations
need somewhere to go

This entry was posted on Friday, February 10th, 2006 at 1:55 am and is filed under indiscriminate, poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.