About
authenticity
( Over the last
months I read some excellent,some wonderful poems. But there were also these
which came across as non-authentic. Sometimes maybe because somebody tried too hard
to be different or to increase his/her importance with other people’s suffering
and with tales of heroism (which I hate). Or sometimes just maybe because the
text had to fit the rhyme. Or because the phrase found was so wonderful, it had
to be used: it could have been used later.)
there is a
full moon
i smell
wild boars
in the dark
of the forest
it is april
and i blossom
restlessly
shooting the
sky
yes.
i agree,
this is poetic
and it
may be
a bore.
but if you
watch
a war on tv:
why do you
write
as if you were
there?
you in your
chair.
if you
don’t love:
why pretend
and molest
me?
if you like
pus
ok
then there
may be
a certain degree
of
authenticity
but if you
think
that i need
pus,
amputations,
heroes,
flies ,wounds,
maggots,
crucifications,
flagellations
all from you
who has no
experience
with torture,
prisons,
ditches
not even
hunger ,thirst
not even
freezing
you cannot
frighten
me enough
to make me
listen
why don’t
you pull
your own
toe nail?
even if
your skies
are ever so
azzurro,
lilac and
deep
even if your
genitals
are as voluptuously
swollen
as your
brain
even if
rain falls
and washes it
all away
why should I
read?
(peace…?)
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