The Narcissistic Poet: Must Every Poem be about your Crappy Love life?

"Poetry is Narcissism."  
-- Loose Quote 


A friend of mine said that, and I'm misquoting a bit but it's pretty close.  When you read most poetry out there do you ever ask... "I wonder what the poet was thinking about when he/she wrote this?"  Consider the selection below.  
__________________________________________________________________

I Love You

I see her in the distance

A place afar off

Her beauty ever present

Her skin so soft

My heart begins to race

With the passage of time

As I behold her grace

And wish she were mine

My lips are sealed

My legs grow weak

Only my mind

Is brave enough to speak

I Love you.

She grows closer

A place so near

She fills my heart

And soul with cheer

She is close now

A place so nigh

I could reach and touch her

Though I dare not try

So I whisper the words

With a weak voice of fear

A sound so low

Nobody could hear

I Love you…

She is past me now

A place far away

My mind goes numb

My heart led astray

She secretly killed me

When she walked away

She secretly killed me

And she didn’t even see

It’s a price I pay

As I stand all alone

For daring to say

Words not condoned.

I Love you…

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As embarrassing as it is to admit I wrote that in high school (circa 2001) what was I thinking?  Well I was head over heels in love with this girl (Name concealed to protect the innocent).  I couldn't get her out of my head, I would think about her all day every day.  When she passed by my heart skipped blah blah blah all that love stuff.

She inspired me to write poem after poem, most of which was lost because I didn't care as much about poetry as I do now.  

"Who gives a F*** about your love life?"

-- Loose Quote

Good question...

I'm quoting my friend again but why should the reader care if you're hurt, or if you have an intense love for somebody?  Why should the reader care that you asked your high school crush out and she mercilessly shot you down with a chain gun?

Should others care, and why?  Must every poem be about your crappy love life?

The business of being... Homeless?

I saw this sign today, I had to stop and take a pic.

Look at this thing, it looks as if a college art student were advertising in a faux product showing.

This colorful work of art belonged to a man who was homeless... or so I assumed just by his appearance.  I have a friend who says, you can't judge a book by it's cover but you can get a pretty d*mn good idea.

I stop and say... "Well this is an elaborate homeless sign sir."  And he laughs, I asked him if I could take a picture of it and gave him $2.00 for his time... it just felt like the right thing to do.

As I walked away I realized something.  This man just advertised, got me to stop, inquiring about his sign and he made a sale.  My next thought was... well what did he sell?  And that's what I realized... he sold himself, his condition, his entire being was his product and this was his advertisement.

Time out here, I'm not saying he is scamming people, he looked for all intensive purposes homeless, and I could tell his condition was very real.  He was probably somebody who had gotten laid off and fell on hard times... poor guy.  However he learned to survive and adapt to his new life on the streets by collecting money from curious on lookers who would see his sign and say... Hmm what's this about?   So how is that different from what Walmart does?  Or what Microsoft does?  All have widgets they want to sell and they advertise using fancy commercials designed to peak your interest and say... hmm what's that all about?

Is there a secret code amongst the homeless in terms of how to advertise?  Is there a formula one can follow to be the most successful?  This sounds crazy but I guess what I'm really asking:  Is there a true business model for being a successful hobo?

Life's Random Encounters...

Witness if you will the little guy at the left.  Why is he (or she don't want to discriminate) significant?

Well I was at work, stressing  and thinking about how miserably horrible my day at the office was going and I saw him (or her, easy there ladies I'm not sexist) sitting on the steps outside my work place.

What was it doing there?  Not moving, not afraid of all the "ooohs" and "Ahhs" and the "Look how cute it is!" that was hovering around it's tiny little head.  Just sitting, in that pose taking it all in.  Ok realistically it might have strayed from it's mother who knows and who cares look how cute he is!!

Let me get to the point before I lose you.  I had lunch with a friend today and he said he had the most interesting encounter.  He's single, about 24 years of age and he's one of those real artsy type guys who seems to be good at everything and is completely open and honest about feelings and all that gushy stuff that I don't are about.  He went to a restaurant for... well lunch (Can a guy have 2 lunches?  What's wrong with that?) and he saw this woman sitting there alone.  With guts of steel he invites her to sit next to him and she complies and they hit it off.  Just like that, random encounter which might lead to something more.  We don't know this of course but stay tuned folks... and believe me I'll keep you updated.

The point is... life seems to be a bunch of random encounters, random chances that if we sieze them can become our greatest adventure.  For instance... Mr Albert Einstein (You know Mr. E = MC hammer himself) worked at a post office for a while, no doubt dreaming of things that you and I wouldn't understand if we sat in a Relativity class for 1000 years.  Maybe you're that smart but I for one am not!  But here's what terrifies me.  What if he had not taken his chance?  What if he said... "well... let me just sit on this thing, nobody will listen anyway"  Does it terrify you when you think about how different the world would be today had he made this decision?  Think about it.  If one man, Mr. Einstein, had sat on his gift and had not taken a chance you probably wouldn't be reading this blog right now.  So much of our technology is based on his theories of relativity.

The Bottom Line:  Random encounters make up the world.  You'll know when they happen, you'll feel them; those moments in which your heart says "Go for it" but you'll feel this little lump of fear inside called your brain say "Meh... maybe I shouldn't."  Word of advice... do it!  You just never know what will come out of it.  As long as it's a good thing for you, don't be afraid to take the chance.

...and yes I got all that from looking at a miniature squirrel.  I'm a lunatic I know.  = )

Mannequin (By Choice)

A mannequin by choice
You know you’re not real
You believe you’re alive
But you can’t truly feel
You have flesh of plastic
A hardened heart of stone
Wires for veins
And rigid iron bones
You cry acid tears
Scorching the green grass
Burns solidified, like
The scars of your past
You truly blend in
A source of envy to your friends
Shaped like flawless art
With sleek glossy skin
You have the whole world
Yet have an empty soul
You lay in bed at night
Wondering where it will go
You have a thousands friends
Without having one
To be crafted by hands
Forever the product of someone
To be loved only in lust
For an instant you feel alive
Only to be left
Feeling dead inside
You feel the emptiness,
Of having no vision to see
To be trapped inside
An invented personality
A mannequin by choice
Crying out to be free
Behind solid glass
On display for the world to see
A vision an entire nation
Aspires to be
A mannequin by choice
Seeking its identity.


J.A. Wine