What's the wank with people who say they don't like poetry? They make me uncomfortable, like people who say, "I don't care for music," or, "I don't like to read." How can you not like music? Or reading? Or film or sculpture or any of the arts? What the fuck is up with these people? It's like saying, "I don't like to use my mind."
Oh, I know what you're going to say--you hate it because there's so much crappy poetry. Poetry that's outright BAD. Execrable. Poopy. Pretentious. And I can't disagree with you. It's true. There is a great deal of horrible, horrible poetry. However, there's also a ton of bad music, bad film, bad theater, etc. THERE'S PUTRID ART EVERYWHERE! But does that mean I'm never going to buy tickets to another concert, see another film, or go to another play just because there's crap? FUCK NO. You think just because I heard a poor vocalist at the Artists' Quarter that I'm giving up on jazz forever? Or just because I was idiot enough to see Freejack that I'll forswear movies? Or because I saw a miserable college production of Native Son that I won't set foot in a theater again? Hell no. Clues as to my existence and philosophy may be purchased at the gift shop, located near the egress of this article.
Now you'll say, "The problem is there's too much bad poetry. 99% of it sucks electrolux. I won't waste my time dicking around with 10 million poetry rags or 10 thousand poetry readings to find something half-decent." Well, fine. Please go ahead and place your bets on the "sure thing." Stick to art forms and forums that you feel comfortable with. I wouldn't want you to work too hard, or actually participate in your artistic pursuits and entertainment choices. I wouldn't want you to have to expend any effort. The TV Guide is right on the coffee table. Or play DOOM some more. Or go out with the same old friends to the same old crappy bar and bitch about the same old problems. Why bother to try anything NEW?
Fuck that shit. I like to dig through the garbage-heap that is modern poetry and hold out for the piece at the bottom of the pile that will blow my mind. I like the challenge of finding gems in the junk. I enjoy actively participating in my own entertainment and education. I don't want to stick with what's safe and proven as "good."
I'm so sick of folks whining: "But jewelzzzzzzzzz, there's too much shiiiiiiiiiiiite. It's too haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard to find any good poetry. Or zines. Or web pages. Or local bands." Well boo-fucking-hoo. Put up or shut up. Better yet, quitcher bellyachin' about the poetry / zines / art you see that you don't like, and get off your picnic-basket-butt and make your own creative stuff. If you aren't walking the walk, your talk is just trash.
And while you're at it, have a little respect for what other writers and artists are trying to do. All the infighting and cross-arts warring makes me want to yap my breakfast. Decide you just don't like poetry? Fine. But point your piss-gun elsewhere: poets don't need your whiny crap-complaints. Don't like your local music scene? Fine. Shut the hell up about it and stay at home with your Frank Sinatra records. Don't like punk zines? Fine. Close your gob and let the poor punks do their work in peace. If you don't have something constructive or useful to say, blow it out your butthole. Respect the work that other artists do, even if you don't understand it. Even if it doesn't blow your skirt up. Respect the effort, if not the vision.
Let me tell you something else, friends and neighbors. It took my a long time to come to terms with my proclivity for poetry. Do you think I actually would have voluntarily chosen this particular art? (Well, actually, that's a disingenuous question: I always pick the underdog and favor the most hopeless causes, so, yes, I probably would have picked poetry. I'm a Cubs fan too--shows you how bad off I am.) Christ. It's a world of trouble. But it's what they handed out when my embryo was in line. It's what the divine joke-maker tacked into my soul. I think I got stuffed with equal parts poetry and equal parts butt-stubbornness, thank God. The embryonic gift-shift was about to change, but at least I got a double-dose of piss-&-vinegar. For a long time, I wouldn't even tell people I did the "P" thing. Then, when I started to come out of the verse-closet, I'd only describe myself with the more safe and generic term, "writer."
I dare you--try this experiment sometime: come out to someone as a poet and watch them get that funny, glazed look in their eye. The petrified stare means their mind is frantically trying to concoct a quick escape: "Oh? A poet? Erm... thass nice. Ah, I have a dental appointment I need to get to, now..." Yes, you, too, can kill any conversation! Bring a party to a standstill as people scramble for the exits! Listen to the dust settling in the room once you drop the poetry bomb!
I don't understand why people get so uncomfortable. It's not like poets are suddenly going to start spouting verse at you, or shove a sheaf of poems in your face. When someone tells you he's a singer, do you clap your hands over your ears, fearing a spontaneous song? When someone tells you she's a filmmaker, do you nervously look around for a camera? Of course not. Most poets / zinesters / artists don't up and "inflict" their art on an unwilling audience. So cut us some slack, please. Doing poetry is hard enough as it is.
Not only do poets get about two milligrams of respect from the general public, but they take a lot of shite from other artistic communities. We get little or no pay for our work. There are far too many poets, and not enough rags to publish in. The venues are limited; the market, tighter than a nun's lips. Prose writers scoff at us. Journalists shake their heads. Zinesters hate us. How many zines proudly advertise, "Poetry free since 1995!" and "New and Improved: Less Poetry!"? I'll tell you: too many. The fifteen-year-old punk who does a Rancid fanzine gets more respect than the most vital and energetic poetry zine. (Awww, thass all right though. Having been a fifteen-year-old punker m'self, I think that soul needs the respect more than I do, now.)
So, with all the shite we take as poets, all the abuse and ridicule, with the lack of respect, support, and encouragement from other artists, why do we keep doing it? Why in holy hell do we keep writing poetry? I have thunk and thunk till I could think no more, and all I can say is, "I DON'T KNOW!"
I really don't know why I keep doing this. I don't presume to know the mind or heart of any other poet, or their reasons for pursuing this most reviled of arts. As for me, maybe I like the abuse. Maybe I have something to say. Maybe I'm so fucking stubborn and perverse that the more shite that gets shoveled my way, the more strongly I feel compelled to do it. Fuck. I don't know. Maybe I just have to.
I've been a poet for some time, now. I wrote my first (and probably best) poem when I was five. I also write prose. I'm working on a novel. I self-publish books, broadsides, zines, and any other kind of "printed matter" I can imagine. I thought the zine community would welcome me and my efforts, but the response has been mixed... Bless the hearts and souls of those who have been encouraging and kind, but I still feel anxious about "admitting" that I do a litzine. It's like saying "I'm a poet" at parties. People get nervous. I want to hiss, "Get the fuck over yourself! I won't share anything with you unless you ask me to."
But, even though I feel I'm at the bottom of the trash-pile, even in the zine community, it's with other zinesters and self-publishers that I feel most comfortable. There's a generally subversive D.I.Y. philosophy which embraces (in thought, if not always in deed) the idea that you should do your own creative work, no matter what the hell anybody else says. Zinesters, more than other, more mainstream, artistic groups, value subversive acts, statements, and ideas. God bless zinesters and all the work they do beneath the radar of mainstream media. Even from the dregs of the piss-pot, I salute you.
So, let me say it now, let me bust the bloody hinges off my verse-closet. I AM A POET. AND A WRITER. AND A ZINESTER. I WILL DO MY WORK AND MY ART NO MATTER WHAT THE CONSEQUENCE. I WILL CONTINUE TO ENGAGE IN SUBVERSIVE ACTS OF WRITING AND PUBLISHING. I WILL LIVE MY LIFE ACCORDING TO THE GIFTS I HAVE BEEN GIVEN. And I'm gonna have a damn good time, while I'm at it. Revv up the lawnmower, baby, I'm about to ride roughshod over Hell's prosaic half-acre.
But coming out of the verse-closet is only the beginning: the taint of shame and idiocy is still difficult to escape. Recently, there was a minor flame-war between the writers on misc.writing and the poets on rec.arts.poems. A few writers on misc.writing started preaching the Gospel of Money: "Demand Payment For Your Writing Or Suffer The Wrath And Disapprobation Of The Community. You Devalue Your Work When You Write For Free. Demand Cash!" This, they said to the poets. My. This here is what we call "a fail-yuh to communicate" or, a basic misunderstanding of the economic realities for poets vs. genre writers / journalists / novelists / etc. Some poets replied: "Oi, we does it coz we likes it and we hardly ever gets any money. Money's nice but mostly we gets paid in copies. We mostly likes the exposure we gets when published--money is a bonus, but not a bloody likely one." Thus ensued a bitchy cross-newsgroup war: the writers had their noses so far up the air they might have drowned if it rained. The poets flipped the bird of paradise up said noses. Writers said poets were idjits. Poets said "bite us" there are more rewards than monetary ones. Everyone fussed. No one agreed. Nothing was resolved.
Meanwhile, on my end of the computer screen, I think of myself as a poet-zinester-punk. I accepted early on that I'd never make a living just from poetry (look at Maya Angelou--even she has a day job!). I also accepted from the start that zines generally lose money for the maker, and that, on the whole, breaking even would be a miracle in and of itself. I accepted these facts. In fact, I EMBRACED THEM. I don't want to be motivated solely by money--I want to be spurred on my ideas. If I wanted to make money, I'd start up a conventional magazine and take paid advertising. Or, better yet, I'd get a "regular" job in corporate America. I celebrate my worse-than-a-whore status: I give my poetry away for free! Sometimes I don't even get copies in payment! I just give it the fuck away! And my books and zines? I sell them at or below cost! Why? BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT! Because I can. Because I'm more interested in getting the ideas out there than in making a grubby buck. I like operating in a subversive way--I like getting copies of stuff I'm published in. I like getting trades for my zine, I value communication as its own reward. Money's nice and all, but I just use it to pay the bills. It's not my heart and soul.
By the way, I firmly believe that to have a healthy spiritual life, you need to partake of all the arts. Have a bowl of film, a saucer of bookmaking, a cup of cartooning, and a roast of music. Have a nibble of video and a tipple of painting. Have a platter of dance with a sprig of multimedia. C'mon, try a taste of poetry--just a bite. I know it looks awful, but just try. A little. Once in a while. For your health. Think of me as the lonely cafeteria lady at the end of the line with a steaming tray of creamed spinach--c'mon, try it: just a spoonful. You need your artistic vitamins.
Thank you for reading, and have a lovely day. Please patronize the arts on your way out of this article.
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