Saturday, February 05, 2005
I went to a poetry reading at a local coffee shop last night again with Cynthia, Suzanne and Matthew. I love those. I'm going to post some on each poem I can remember because want to remember before I forget, so you can skip this part if you want.
The first guy, the one who runs it, wrotae a poem about poetry as an attempt to answer a question it slept through.
Another guy spoke of a girl in whose life something went wrong and she fell into prostitution and drugs then couldn't escape it and crying because she hated what she had become but had no escape. It spoke in the begining of her being an angel. And he ended with the line saying now this angel was fallen. The whole poem made me...the only word I can think of is sad. I know that actually happens to people, and I feel for them. I wish I oculd reach out and help them in some way. But the way he read that last line killed me. He said it with almost a laugh.
Another girl wrote on girls and guys. Those who have known both, say that a kiss from a girl is better. Is it because its innocent and looking for a savior? Soft and gentle and caressing? But girls have a string tied to the guy that they can casually tug. She can lure him in without caring. A kiss from Eve in the garden brought Adam.....i don't remember the rest of that line. This girl had another great poem about guys and girls but I don't remember.
A woman who just came back from Europe had one abotu conspiracy theories. You know those people who always have conspiracy theories. She starts out by talking about ones that seem out there and then comes into ones that are so common that most people would not recognize them as "conspiracy theories". Europe doesn't even have pictures on their liscenes, and we're going to finger prints and DNA banks. Use only cash so you cannot be traced. Throw away your Bi-Lo card, cause where I buy my potato chips is my business. It was a fun satire on the culture and those people that are constantly afraid of the government infringing on more of their privacy.
There are a couple I liked and its killing me that I can't remember what their about. One was a song by a guy and another was a poem by a girl who lives in my dorm. I remember her second poem. She talked about listening to 2000 songs on her mp3 that was illegal. And talked about some reminding her of certain times and times with this guy. He could listen to all 2000 songs and more, but it would not cause him to ever think of her.
Wow, I'm realizing how much poetry summeries ruin the poem. They do the poem no justice what so ever, especially when I cannot remember much from them. It makes them sound so simple, so shallow. Oh well, I'm going to continue with at least one more.
There was one poem I loved until the very end. I made me think of you Britt. I think you would have liked it. The guy was talking about liberals, diversity, and tolerance. There is diversity in a group of caucasions where one is a prep and one has dreads. Diversity doesn't have to mean a different race. He talked about how some liberals often tend to take these ideas to an extreme and try to force them. Ugh, I'm not remembering the good part of the poem, just the stupid last line. He had to go and make a racial joke on the last line which made me mad so I'm not going to post it. He was doing great then went one step too far.
That's all I can remember without straining my brain (I just woke up).
Last night was awesome though. Being whooped up on in chess, giving piggy back rides around target and down town Anderson, the stars, the old burned out buildings, going to the police station, talking about life, poetry, and randomness, coffee, being with good friends, singing (yea, I pity the people I was with).
I found a pottery place I really want to go back to. I also was shown a beautiful spot on campus. I think one night I'm going to go down there and read. It was wonderful to sit down there and just talk. So peaceful. Its wonderful having friends who I don't put up masks around, who I can be completely real with, no hiding, no holding back. I was thinking that on the bridge, and as carried to mugs back upstairs. Pillow fights, being cornered and tickled, throwing soccer balls til I'm so tired I can't catch even the slow ones... vita buona (that's for you Rachel).
But because I have "family here", close friends here, doesn't mean that I don't still miss you guys, because I do. Everytime I hear Eliot, walk around a downtown, discuss philosophy over coffee, go to a random park at night, hear that song, I think of all of you. Its weird. As I'm going things like that I am flooded with old memories, but at the same time, I'm making new ones. Both are good. But I wonder what will happen when I pass this stage of life and do it again in some future time. Will I be flooded with the memories of both? Will that much memory be wonderful or drowning? Will I forget one time because of the memories of another?
I know I've quoted this poem before, but bear with me because its been on my mind.
"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
It all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
thus in your mind.
-"Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot
The first guy, the one who runs it, wrotae a poem about poetry as an attempt to answer a question it slept through.
Another guy spoke of a girl in whose life something went wrong and she fell into prostitution and drugs then couldn't escape it and crying because she hated what she had become but had no escape. It spoke in the begining of her being an angel. And he ended with the line saying now this angel was fallen. The whole poem made me...the only word I can think of is sad. I know that actually happens to people, and I feel for them. I wish I oculd reach out and help them in some way. But the way he read that last line killed me. He said it with almost a laugh.
Another girl wrote on girls and guys. Those who have known both, say that a kiss from a girl is better. Is it because its innocent and looking for a savior? Soft and gentle and caressing? But girls have a string tied to the guy that they can casually tug. She can lure him in without caring. A kiss from Eve in the garden brought Adam.....i don't remember the rest of that line. This girl had another great poem about guys and girls but I don't remember.
A woman who just came back from Europe had one abotu conspiracy theories. You know those people who always have conspiracy theories. She starts out by talking about ones that seem out there and then comes into ones that are so common that most people would not recognize them as "conspiracy theories". Europe doesn't even have pictures on their liscenes, and we're going to finger prints and DNA banks. Use only cash so you cannot be traced. Throw away your Bi-Lo card, cause where I buy my potato chips is my business. It was a fun satire on the culture and those people that are constantly afraid of the government infringing on more of their privacy.
There are a couple I liked and its killing me that I can't remember what their about. One was a song by a guy and another was a poem by a girl who lives in my dorm. I remember her second poem. She talked about listening to 2000 songs on her mp3 that was illegal. And talked about some reminding her of certain times and times with this guy. He could listen to all 2000 songs and more, but it would not cause him to ever think of her.
Wow, I'm realizing how much poetry summeries ruin the poem. They do the poem no justice what so ever, especially when I cannot remember much from them. It makes them sound so simple, so shallow. Oh well, I'm going to continue with at least one more.
There was one poem I loved until the very end. I made me think of you Britt. I think you would have liked it. The guy was talking about liberals, diversity, and tolerance. There is diversity in a group of caucasions where one is a prep and one has dreads. Diversity doesn't have to mean a different race. He talked about how some liberals often tend to take these ideas to an extreme and try to force them. Ugh, I'm not remembering the good part of the poem, just the stupid last line. He had to go and make a racial joke on the last line which made me mad so I'm not going to post it. He was doing great then went one step too far.
That's all I can remember without straining my brain (I just woke up).
Last night was awesome though. Being whooped up on in chess, giving piggy back rides around target and down town Anderson, the stars, the old burned out buildings, going to the police station, talking about life, poetry, and randomness, coffee, being with good friends, singing (yea, I pity the people I was with).
I found a pottery place I really want to go back to. I also was shown a beautiful spot on campus. I think one night I'm going to go down there and read. It was wonderful to sit down there and just talk. So peaceful. Its wonderful having friends who I don't put up masks around, who I can be completely real with, no hiding, no holding back. I was thinking that on the bridge, and as carried to mugs back upstairs. Pillow fights, being cornered and tickled, throwing soccer balls til I'm so tired I can't catch even the slow ones... vita buona (that's for you Rachel).
But because I have "family here", close friends here, doesn't mean that I don't still miss you guys, because I do. Everytime I hear Eliot, walk around a downtown, discuss philosophy over coffee, go to a random park at night, hear that song, I think of all of you. Its weird. As I'm going things like that I am flooded with old memories, but at the same time, I'm making new ones. Both are good. But I wonder what will happen when I pass this stage of life and do it again in some future time. Will I be flooded with the memories of both? Will that much memory be wonderful or drowning? Will I forget one time because of the memories of another?
I know I've quoted this poem before, but bear with me because its been on my mind.
"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
It all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
thus in your mind.
-"Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot
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