Favourite poets?

[overgrowthegovt]

Okay, who are your favourite poets? I really dig Shakespeare, William Blake, John Keats, Jim Morrison, W.B. Yeats, Allen Ginsberg, Charles Baudelaire and Percy Bysshe Shelley, among others.

overgrowthegovt Reviewed by overgrowthegovt on 11-06-2008. Favourite poets? Okay, who are your favourite poets? I really dig Shakespeare, William Blake, John Keats, Jim Morrison, W.B. Yeats, Allen Ginsberg, Charles Baudelaire and Percy Bysshe Shelley, among others. Rating: 5

[Weezard]

Okay, who are your favourite poets? I really dig Shakespeare, William Blake, John Keats, Jim Morrison, W.B. Yeats, Allen Ginsberg, Charles Baudelaire and Percy Bysshe Shelley, among others.

Tom Kryss,
d. a. levy
Paul Simon

Weeze

[overgrowthegovt]

Tom Kryss,
d. a. levy
Paul Simon

Weeze

Funny, just the other day I got really high and threw on "Bookends." "America" blows my mind and moves me.

Kryss I know of but I haven't read any of his stuff, regrettably.

Say, do you by any chance write poetry, too?

[Weezard]

Funny, just the other day I got really high and threw on "Bookends." "America" blows my mind and moves me.

Kryss I know of but I haven't read any of his stuff, regrettably.

Say, do you by any chance write poetry, too?

No sir, I write doggerel.

No gotta "regret," google.
Tom is a dear friend with a soul unique to this planet.
Kinda, Ferlinghetti with a deeper gaia.
Worth reading.


Same with levy.

If, you are older than 50 ,and still remember the "bad old days" when they killed poets in Ohio. And still give a rat's ass, that is.
Wasn't always "pretty" but it was spot on for it's time.


But paul Simon is often ignored as a poet.

"casting shivering shadow on the houses through the trees"

always grabs me.
And.

"The train is gone, suddenly,
on wheels clicking silently,
Like a gently tapping litany,
As he holds his crayon rosary,
tighter in his hand.-

-----

a single word,
a poem ,
comprising four letters.
---
Then his heart is laughing, screaming, bright,
his legs take their eccentric flight,
to seek the breast of darkness,
and be suckled by the night."


Gives me goosebumps.


Guess I'm easy.

Aloha,

Wee, tiny, itty bitty, Leezard.

[IAmKowalski]

Manifesto:
The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.



Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front" from The Country of Marriage, copyright © 1973 by Wendell Berry, reprinted by permission of Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc.

[overgrowthegovt]

Kowalski, that there's some great shit.

Sonnet by William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn

[roninwithnoname]

Oh, let's see: Ginsberg, Eliot, Yeats, Whitman, Wallace Stevens, and Stephen Crane.