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I watched an interesting movie recently that made me think about language, poetry, writing and the modern-day poet.

I love language. It’s part of the reason that I became a journalist initially. Language is the media that portrays a message, evokes an emotion, tells a story and more literally allows us to communicate with one another. However I have forgotten how to enjoy my obsession with language in the last four years or so. I went to varsity and language became a means to an end not the end result.

What I mean by this is simple, poets make language their result. Yes the message exists but it is enhanced through the language they use, the words they choose and the sorts of construction that they decide to make use of.

If you don’t know anything about poetry and wondered what all the high-faluted hype was about do yourself a favour and read up about poetry a bit. Then go and read Frost, Thomas, Cummings, Blake and Eliot for a start. These are the greats of the past and the definitive poets of “our time”. The reason I say “our time” is that these poets are not part of my time, my era or existence.

Here are snippets of some of my favourite poet’s writings:

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

And another:

why must itself up every of a park
by E. E. Cummings

why must itself up every of a park

anus stick some quote statue unquote to

prove that a hero equals any jerk

who was afraid to dare to answer “no”?

Now tell me something. Who are the the poets of my era? Who wrote the great words of my time? Who told the stories that would define the present-day history?

I would like to suggest that musicians today have become the poets of yesteryear.

Here are some examples:

There’s always somebody taller with more of a wit
And he’s equipped to enthrall her and her friends think he’s fit
And you just can’t measure up though, you don’t have a prayer
Wishing that you’d made the most of her when she was there

They’ve got engaged there’s no intention of a wedding
He’s pinched ya bird and he’d probably kick your head in

Bigger boys and stolen sweethearts
Oh, you’re better off without her anyway
You said you wasn’t sad to see her go
Yeah, but I know you were though

Now you don’t know what she’s up to you can only assume
If she’s not in the front of the shops then they’ve gone to his room
Bet she’s gone ’round in her school stuff, bet that’s what he likes
I know you thought she were different and you thought she were nice

But she’s not nice, she’s pretty fucking far from nice
She’s looking at you funny rarely looking at you twice

That is a band I love, the Arctic Monkeys. The writing above, without the music, is poetry to me. It might not be an iambic pentameter. But Poetry, it is.

The next example is from Greenday, one of the definitive bands of my era and I think one of the definitive poetry sources of my time.

I’m the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
From the bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for my sins in hell
As far as I can tell
At least the ones I got away with

And there’s nothing wrong with me
This is how I’m supposed to be
In a land of make believe
That don’t believe in me

Get my television fix sitting on my crucifix
The living room or my private womb
While the moms and brads are away
To fall in love and fall in debt
To alcohol and cigarettes and Mary Jane
To keep me insane and doing someone else’s cocaine

And there’s nothing wrong with me
This is how I’m supposed to be
In a land of make believe
That don’t believe in me

Above is part 1 of “Jesus of Suburbia”.

Next is one of my favourite songs from the last 5 years, The Foo Fighters and “Best of You”:

I’ve got another confession to make
I’m your fool
Everyone’s got their chains to break
Holdin’ you

Were you born to resist or be abused?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Are you gone and onto someone new?

I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose
You gave me something that I didn’t have
But had no use
I was too weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can’t choose
I swear I’ll never give in
No, I refuse

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
Your trust, you must
Confess

So to answer my own question, where are the poets of today, the modern-day writers that define our present-day history, they are in music, in the popular form of communication today. Poetry is no longer in the mainstream as it was back in the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries, today it is music and the musicians, songwriters and definitive minds might just exist in our music.

For more poets of today I suggest reading:
Lennon
Dylan
Marley
Stevens
Matthews
Apple
Taylor
King
Nirvana (Kurt Cobain)
Oasis
Tupac Shakur
Chapman

Who would you consider poets of your era? Which poets do you read? What would you classify as poetry?

It’s been a tough year has 2008. Not in a bad way, in a trying, testing way. In a way that makes you fight for what makes you happy.

I think I’ve started to lose that battle. I haven’t slept a full night in a few weeks. I haven’t played music (not on a sound system) of any kind in a long time. I think it’s all tied together, I do.

I passionately love my life and my job. But life has got to be about more than one passion hasn’t it? I am struggling to separate my life from my work and my passion from both of those.

Things need to be balanced and I don’t think I’m doing a good job.

Things that make me happy:

Poker (playing live tournaments)

Guitar (playing it)

Writing music

Reading

Writing (for myself)

Listening to music

Spending time alone

Training

I’m really not managing to do alot of the above things. It’s tough as those of you with jobs, ambitions and busy lives will know and agree. I really can’t understand how some of the people I know manage it. I struggle.

This is probably the first post in a long time that I’ve blogged on here that has some sincerity about it. I’ve been extremely unmotivated to blog on here thanks to the demands of SA Rocks and Nudjit. This might not change too soon, but we can always hope!