Lately I haven’t been too active with this poetry blog, because of multiple reasons. I’ve been concentrating on other things, because I have no will to write at all. I know the words are there, but I don’t feel like it’s in any way appropriate to express personal feelings to others. I feel like a complete tramp and a whore because I’ve been writing poetry.
I don’t know what happened, but I suspect that the reason lies within the heart of humanity. I am truly disgusted and I cannot hide behind any kind of satire anymore.
I recall a conversation with a person known as an active local poet. He told me that when I recite my poetry I have an act of an angry young man. He was speaking to me in Finnish, so I didn’t quite understand at first everything he was saying, so I had to ask a friend to translate some words that I didn’t understand and it turned out he was calling me a fake.
I don’t think he quite understands where my writing stems from, as I like to write about things that frighten me or about things that make me feel sick to my stomach. How else could I be more true to myself and the message I want to say to the world? I am no jackass.
This was just one case in a thousand and all these encounters with mankind has led me to believe that if sin exists, it’s to capitalize on art for the benefit of yourself or others. It may be a grim thought, but I think I may understand why despots killed off most artist types. It wasn’t because art holds a dangerous power of self-expression and free will. It was because most artists walk around enjoying the smell of their own farts.
Not that I hold such vehemence towards people who wish to pursue art as totalitarian asshats. I wholeheartedly hope that art thrives bringing insight, pleasure and new horizons to everyone. I just wish to do so without being associated with my work. I hope that if the work is agreeable then it would stand on its own or be forever shun.
Also I would like to point out that I do not hate people, I just don’t want to interact with them more than necessary.
I will concentrate my time on things that won’t make me wallow in depression.
I’ve had it with working my ass off for piss.