the problem the poetry

[revolutionrabbit]

poetry is the solution
to the problem of life
taking that as your urge
there is nothing that can
not be put into your words
yet the problem still remains
to find a way to say what you
want to say, and say it that way
a dark stranger inside you will call
at first you will resist that intrusion
poetry is the solution to the problem
of life, but life goes on heedless
so in order to complete the equation
you will begin to listen to the sounds
of the dark stranger, not so much his
of hers, but what they tell you about
the words that come to you as you dare
to see that the world is made of them
great poets have already said all the great
things that could ever be spoken, you came
along in the bitch of time, just to find lose
ends, to gather all the frayed threads
left by those workers of the word that came
before, to tie the shoes of the dead writers
and put on sentences they left behind where
they fall like angels of prostitution like shot stars
in the streets of revolutions where damn poets
stand back behind the wild poems that inflame
the hearts of those talkers of the real news sing
the real blue blues to all the loaded people who
long for lasting human claims to the right of sight
who run like ragged agitators toward endless night
to write the resistance to the dark foliage of false light
make it right again when blood spills like mirror print
when bread is more then what is fed to the silent looks
when poetry is a hunger that burns in the belly of books

[mnaz]

and it comes over you
problem of the solution
in a dimension between
verbs hunting elusive nouns
to heal the wounds of reason
leave traces of passage, not proof
in limbo mambo between thoughts
in ashes of thoughts that burn high
in tunnels at the end of the light, yes
a liar who tells the truth, and rebellion
against both, a realization that nothing
is possessed, the beginning or end, only
a lump in the throat, one that communicates
before it's understood . . .

ps: some killer lines in your poem. really dug
"to write the resistance to the dark foliage of false light"

also, thanks to Robert Frost, James Branch Cabell, Novalis, Jean Cocteau, J Patrick Lewis, Thomas Gray, John Cage and Rene Char for the little partial quote snippets I pieced together above . . .
(sorry)

http://www.quotegarden.com/poetry.html

[revolutionrabbit]

I was thinking about Andre Breton

so i began with what he said, what he thought

i struggle with the poem, it takes off in some direction
and i try not to inhibit it, yet it has a mind of its own
and is is also my thought is allowing it, the words
hardly show their faces, they want to come bursting
through, i try to keep to the thought, so i don't give up
maybe this fragment will, cause another, its difficult to find
to which ones make it through the write night , maybe some
line in the middle or near the last line, the last one has to
take up the slack, maybe that one will become the actual
first line to another poem.Rene Char was there.