Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

nobody understands me
so i turned to writing poetry
but nobody understands my poetry
so i get pretty lonely at times
i start freewheeling with words
i bang away at the keys
like one of those wind up monkeys
that beats the drum and clanks the cymbals
until he plays himself out
it's fucked up
but it's the best i can do

know the feeling

I found this confusing. Unless this is another dramatic monologue where the speaker doesn't realize he's contradicting himself, the poem seems unfocused.

If it is a monologue and I'm a Browning fan as much as the next guy, I think it should be longer.

i accept your apology.

seriously though, yejun, it kind of says what i wanted to say. don't think i need to expand it, but i will consider your suggestions.

i liked this, Dino... the way so many writers feel at times but just keep clankin' away at the keys trying to make sense of ourselves hoping something will pop out that will impress... a wow moment that just doesn't come along any time we want it to... yep... it's fucked up but that's what writers (and any other artist) does.. wanna make something of it? just do it until you drop then wake up and do it again. creativity is the reinvention of Self. don't look back.

the way so many writers feel at times but just keep clankin' away at the keys trying to make sense of ourselves hoping something will pop out that will impress... a wow moment that just doesn't come along any time we want it to.

Sure, but isn't that called inspiration? I don't understand what that has to do with understanding the writer.

like one of those wind up monkeys
that beats the drum and clanks the cymbals
until he plays himself out
it's fucked up
but it's the best i can do

The problem for me is how this simile compares to the goals of the first lines. Those monkeys aren't trying to be understood because there's nothing to understand. If there's nothing to understand in the first lines as well, what's exactly trying to be accomplished?

That's why I saw it as a dramatic monologue. People do say nonsense and want people to get it, people do say that they want to be understood when there's no there there.

The problem or joke as I see it is something akin to an old school in the philosophy of mind crowd: external verificationism.

The joke is that after sex you start saying things like:

"Wow, that was good for you. How was it for me?"

i don't know, man. it's a light, but honest piece about how i feel. i appreciate the time you put into the reading and criticism. again, thanks.

it seems to me, yejun, you're reaching for something that was never there or even intended to be there.

i could wrong, but i read this piece as just a flow of feelings caught at the moment... nothing too heavy, nothing too light... just right... an intonation and overall pulse of feeling. it brought me a smile and i like that... don't you?

Jeeze, Yejun.

Have a beer or something. It's not that complicated, is it?

Seriously.

it seems to me, yejun, you're reaching for something that was never there or even intended to be there.

That may well be true.

Yet, the first line is "Nobody understands me." The rest of the poem shows why that is the case at least some of the time. But, hey, if it works for you, it works for you. I'm not going to argue against that.

Have a beer or something. It's not that complicated, is it?

Seriously.

Okay, I'll have a beer. It's a little early, but hey, what the hell!

What is not that complicated?

What is not that complicated?

The pome.

I've been thinking about this one for a couple of days now. Simply put, many times we are not understood, it is not that others don't understand, it is that we don't understand ourselves.

I think this poem shows that in a very succinct way.

That's a compliment, you know.

Since nobody understood me,
I decided to purposely write
undecipherable crap.
To my amazement,
some people liked it like that.
When I read it, they clapped.

As long as the words sounded
pleasant strung together,
it didn't seem to matter whether
they meant anything or not.

When a poet speaks,
it could be blathering rot.
As long as it's said with conviction
and reasonably clear diction,
it doesn't need to mean a thing
when I grab the mic
and utter a linguistic string.

.........

thanks for the inspiration

i liked your poem

thanks! i like yours too.