Another 1001 poem today; just wrote it. The last two poems were performed, though I didn't see them. I find this spontaneity good and easy, and the incantatory nature of the words fits me well. I could make a habit of this, and if it really runs 1001 nights I should be able to assemble my own body of work (and, I think, I own the copywrite). As for the normal blog stuff... today was... today. Yesterday I stayed up too late; today I tried to do some work, tried to take some notes, won at triva (I know that T.S. Eliot wrote The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and that Dail was a Spanish surrealist. woohoo), and saw a performance of music made from modified electronic toys. It was entertaining; done by students who trained with the Toydeath guy. Nothing horrible, nothing too good, and I got to play with Hulk hands. Seems like something I'd like to try, maybe as an RPG idea... much of my life seems filtered through roleplaying games lately, due to too much lurking on RPG.net. The games I play are modern ones, though, so its less horrible "eee! I can slay the dragon with my +5 sword of dorkiness!" and more "man, learning Noam Chomsky's linguistic theories are a bit boring as learned in Linguistics class, but there's a bit in the Mage books that points to them as sources of power, so that could be cool to play or even "yes, my next Unknown Armies character is going to turn toys into musical instruments... for some evil reason! muahahahaha!"

Yes, its dorky, but its something to occupy my mind. When you spend all your class time talking about language and literature and all your work time alone in a strange TV station, you need something to give it an extra... spice. Besides, i'm not a dork! I go to concerts! I'm even skipping Mage tonight to do work... work I haven't actually done, sure, but its the thought that counts. Political language essay, plus some wonderful lines to memorizefrom Book 1 of Milton's epic Paradise Lost.

During trivia, I realized i'm useless outside the areas of music and literature. I am not sure if I am happy about it, but I take a certain perverse pride in it. As Wilde said (and knowing this got me another point in trivia), "we should treat all the trivial things seriously, and the serious things in life with sincere and studied triviality."
(he also said that "A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world." That isn't quoted as much, and since i'm a daysleeper twice a week it works on several levels.


And now... today's poem (mine):

no room for fear in the eyes of the blind
or the halls of the dead where the lost ones wander
no room for fear in the ears of the damned
or the hall of the living where the hollow men lie

no room for the fear when the sea is pounding
and the waves are swallowing all of the lies
no room for fear when you're pushed to the limit
and the monsters are swamping the decks

no room for fear in the modern age
or the screens that eat up all thought
choke off your fear as they hold down your eyes
cut off the fear at the back of your throat

no room for fear the times are all ending
if we let the fear in they'll be room for none else
no room for fear in the toaster's reflection
or your wife's makeup as she sits on the shelf

no room for fear at the back of your laughter
or pulled back at the edge of your eyes
no room for fear in the whirls of your ear
or the tears you won't dare cry

no room for fear under your veil
just a slit for your eyes
and no room for fear at the site of the dead
or the wailing and gnashing of unfrozen lies



(and the Milton I need to memoirze, self-chosen from all the poem):

Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,
Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat
That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he [ 245 ]
Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid
What shall be right: fardest from him is best
Whom reason hath equald, force hath made supream
Above his equals. Farewel happy Fields
Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrours, hail [ 250 ]
Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.
The mind is its own place, and in it self
Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n. [ 255 ]
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less then he
Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: [ 260 ]
Here we may reign secure, and in my choyce
To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th' associates and copartners of our loss [ 265 ]
Lye thus astonisht on th' oblivious Pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy Mansion, or once more
With rallied Arms to try what may be yet
Regaind in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell? [ 270 ]
posted by Robot Devil at 11:58 PM