Friday, 19 March 2010

The emperor's new tent

"Marketing is the quintessential art-form of the 21st Century." (Germaine Greer)

She … says … she’s … made … Two
"seminal" works: one a tent,
the other a bed.

Perhaps I should just leave it at that?

If I left it at that it would save me from getting in too much trouble.
Then again… (I lick my lips and wonder if I may say out loud what I’m thinking).

IT’S BOLLOCKS, isn’t it.
Well isn’t it?
I mean, isn’t it?
No, seriously, isn’t it?

The "seminal" she is talking about
spurt out of figurative bollocks.

Probably I don’t need to worry.
Probably no one’s listening anyway.

But just perhaps
This Poem could save our naked emperor of art
from showing his cock in public
(although I know you like seeing it)
(as well as his bollocks)

You see now how this
text could be: a seminal
work of poetry?

(Brackets … Because it’s also Bollocks!)

If a work of art can be invented just by saying it is one,
maybe it can be destroyed just by saying it isn’t one?

We all just slipped and fell into a paradigm hole.
Like a rift in the fabric of space and time.
But then we realized.
We woke up.
We came up for breath and realized that actually
we had momentarily lost our ability to distinguish
our arses from holes in the ground.

The current cultural agreement says that:
it all depends on who is doing the saying.
You and I (the regular cnts in the street):
we don’t get to say.
What ever I write in a poem,
there is nothing I can say that will dethrone Tracey
from her "seminal works" of art.

You and I (the regular cnts in the street)
we don’t get a vote,
or if we did get a vote,
the people with the money and the power,
would use their money and power to subtly alter our minds by means of
"public relations" / propaganda / marketing / the next big thing,
to vote for
[whatever it is that
will have them continue to stay in control over
as much money and power as they can manage to].

The current answer to which seems to be the lovely Tracey.

I know she sat in her tent for six months and whatever.
I don’t know, maybe it even is art.
I mean: live and let live.

But I have to earn a living too.
And (let’s say – just let’s say) I’m a poet.
(I know we can argue about that one too, but just for now let’s say: I’m a poet.)
So how about:
Just by saying so,
This Poem is the antibiotic to the cultural meme virus known as "Tracey"
and the bloke with the formaldehyde whose name I can’t remember.
(Tracey the meme, not lovely Tracey the person, who I’m sure Is lovely
… I’d love to share a flask of tea with her … in her tent… )

I’m not saying I’m not jealous.

But when Bollocks itself
becomes the medium of your art,
you have got to work really hard
to distinguish the part of art
which isn’t Bollocks.

In the same way that Edvard
liked to leave his paintings "unfinished"
I would like to do the same with my poem.

The only trouble is:
how can you tell whether a poem Is unfinished?
Perhaps this Is what finished Is?

Sunday, 7 March 2010

The universe is designed to be taken for granted

Last time we tested light, it behaved in the same way.
Last time we tested gravity, the apple still fell.
Maybe next time will be different,
but I doubt it.
The universe is designed so as to be taken for granted.

If it could not be taken for granted in this way,
every thing would be
so much harder
or that is to say: softer.

Nothing would be predictable.
Some things might get easier, just by luck.
Like if gravity had momentary lapses
at times of plane crashes.

But you'd have to really schedule it precisely
or very locally for that to work,
because otherwise you would save a plane load of people
while the other 7 billion of us
drifted poetically off into space.

When you think about,
gravity has it's balancing aspects.

And I rather suspect that it will turn out to be
Convenient (I'm not saying it was designed, only Convenient)
that light behaves in these ways that physicists don't as yet
entirely understand
(and reliably so),
if it did not,

the consequences would not all be so good.

When I speak about god, I am not meaning to suggest that she exists

When I speak about
god, I am not meaning to
suggest that (he,) she (or it) exists

Anymore than when I speak about love
I am meaning to suggest that I could hold love in my hand
and pass it to you

Or point love out in a police line-up

God isn't something less than everything
and if you need to see how hard it is to point to everything
or hold everything in the palm of your hand
you only have to try it