losing poetry
Big Brother, video monitoring, Orwellian hippies! What's the world coming to?
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
"dressing the part" makes me think of the character of the poets. Some praise themselves, in words or attitudes, as if they're praising someone else. And others play down their role as a writer of poems, and want to blend in as the humble everyman.---Places are different, all over the world, but any time I'm somewhere where there is lots of activity with poetry, music, and art, I've spent so much getting there that I have nowhere to live and no food to eat. So I never mingle with the people, I just listen and look, and come away with as much inspiration and joy as I can. I can't say that I like scenes very much, and I notice that lots of people have their scenes where they simply play compliments off each other, and it really bores me to tell the truth. I like when I can find something, like a piece of art, that speaks to me, in a strange place. Like a piece of the scenery, that has no more meaning or personal sentiment as far as I can tell than a tree or a park bench with just enough moonlight on it to make me feel that I am somewhere and there are reasons for me to go other places, and to say things, and to stay alive. You can find poetry everywhere, but when you're trapped, it's hard to sense it. And many people are always trapped.

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