I’ve brought myself down to planet Earth again, back to square one actually; the place where I started out when everything began so very long ago.I’ve been drowning for a long time; drowning in my own inabilities to take matters into my own hands and make them work…well, maybe not everything.
All of my artistic abilities I’ve been making work with little or no help provided other than the training I’ve received for those new and recently acquired skills, yet other parts suffered as a result, namely my writing abilities and my poetry; that is until I found a new outlet.
One can always find a new outlet for creativity even when the most obvious bridges have been burned or have disintegrated into ashes over time.
Blogging has helped me tremendously; it’s reestablished myself as a writer and helped my voice as a writer reemerge once more. That leaves my poetry and lyrical voice that has been utterly neglected and nearly silent as a result.
But this isn’t the only trouble I’ve had. No, I blame my lack of interest on something far greater and that is lack of interest in as far as what poetry offers me in my own surrounding area.
Not a lot has changed since I dropped out from reading live, other than the plethora of new embodied voices being heard and the old guard of poetry gangs gathering together and forming a conglomerate.
But poetry in this town remains the same overall. Nothing new is being said or being written about. Friends are still publishing their friends even if their work stinks to high heaven; poetry presses that bill themselves as legitimate presses are nothing more than vanity presses with an imprint on the inside cover.
Then there are those who proclaim themselves as kings or queens of the poetic heap and they are just that; kings and queens of their own dung heaps. Sometimes they make so much noise with accusations and unjust criticisms bordering on hurtfulness and cruel desire and even go as far as using their websites or power of the open mic when the opportunity knocks, just to stroke their own egos.
It’s enough to make grown men and women cry, become disgusted with the shamefulness and drop out completely.
2005 was a banner year for stupidity within the poetry scene I watch and scratch my head at nine times out of 10. 99 percent of the writers, poets and all others involved were completely fooled and duped when a popular poet turned out to be a fugitive on the run for nearly two decades.
It sparked a major name-calling and denial debate among those who felt they represented the rest of us who supposedly didn’t have a voice and yet those were the same ones who didn’t own up to their own responsibilities of backing up their statements to both the local and national press.
It seemed almost ironic that such a person with an egomaniac ilk who enjoys bathing in the media spotlight couldn’t even back up their own statements they made either in the local news or to the press.
Yet nobody dared to cross their path and point it out, for fear of website repercussion or permanent bans from all future gigs they produced throughout the scene.
I crossed that line however some years ago when I pointed out the mere fact that girlfriends of the egomaniac, both present and former were given top priority regardless of their talent. Kind of makes you scratch your head and wonder why, doesn’t it?
I suspect that’s how the last one got ahead and no one dared to cross the path for fear of the wonder-lust spew of words, filled with veiled threats and dry venom that never amounted to much, except for wasted breath and energy oh yeah and more lost local appearances.
Big deal!
Pettiness is a game often played by egomaniacs to get ahead of everyone else who has merited situations on their own, even if their own ethics are compromised.
Maybe it's better that I dropped out, as I think of all the wonderfulness I've created on my own. But when I go back and think about all of it, I really believe it's all very sickening. And yet, the egomaniacs thrive on it.
Cosmically, it won’t amount to much long after they are dead.
Not that they aren’t now.
