Revolutionary Ramblings on Restless Rhythm

"If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light. If I lose paper and ink, I will write in blood on forgotten walls. I will write always. I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you." Henry Rollins


Words. Syllables strung together forming melody like whispers. I am intrigued, entranced, perhaps even a bit obsessed. The written word. The spoken word. Rhythm. Rhythm. Rhythm. I am verbose. It has always been this way. However the sound of words strategically placed. Listening. Listening. Obsession. The sound of words placed forward and backward and sideways gleaning meaning, or not. Yes, I may very well require a twelve step program.

And in this beautiful world of word, language, rhythm, sound, I find a pretense that creates a distortion. An inaccessibility that divides us. I want to unite us through words, through language, melody, rhythm. I write specifically about this with respect to poetry, although I could most certainly argue that that are individuals working in a variety of artistic mediums that carry the same pretense of the "highbrown/lowbrow" debate that I find preposterous and limiting. Please feel free to apply these meanderings to various forms of artist expression. I will not specifically discuss other art forms in this post, although I could. It saddens me that there is a debate about what poetry (and art, see above or have you forgotten already) is and isn't, as if we could or should define and structure language, communication, syllables in this way.

I want all words, all expression, valued and visible. We are gloriously, beautifully flawed as human beings. For one moment, let us embrace this. Value it in ourselves. Value it in others. Listen. Listen. Learn something from our stories. Different. Similar. Our imperfections shining brightly. Embrace the perfection of our imperfection. Laugh at our contradictions. Breathe in and out. For a moment, let us stop being so fucking frightened all of the time. Let us let go of "what if" and simply do, live, be present, accept the beauty in small moments.

Poetry is not meant merely for the printing of words on pages of ground up pressed and polished former trees, to be lost in dusty literary journals, but rather, we should post our words on government buildings, display phrases in bathroom stalls, plant ideas at the corner bus stop. I want to find words on parking meters, phrases on fire hydrants. Let us write our words in chalk on sidewalks, and write new words when the rain washes them away.

This can begin with you.