Poems from the Crimson Darkside Book Chapter 3 Section 3

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Poems from the Crimson Darkside  Book Chapter 3 Section 3 by Author Andrea E. Menzies

 

This is the last Section of my “Crimson Darkside” book.  It shows previews from my “Notes on Inspiration” section, and poems from pages 52 to 92.

 

Chapter 3 Section 3 (Posted 04/22/2014)

 

It has been useful and fun to delve into my past poetic Byronic identities.  However it is a past I cannot dwell upon.  From poetry groups at New Orleans PJs Coffee to poetry groups at Austin’s own Kick Butt Coffee poetry is only thriving in very small groups.  The famous blockbuster author of a certain Tom Cruise vampire movie from the 90s has a husband who was a Berkeley poetry professor.  He helped her with her early editing.  The life blood of much of fiction literature is poetry.  Yet few people are readers in modern day, and even fewer are poetry readers.  After this last set of poems, I am going to return to comic reviews and video game reviews to have content Internet surfers can relate to reading.

Writing a blog for an hour does no good if no one is reading any entry.  You have to have key words that show up on search engines like Google.  An in depth discussion of alliteration in iambic tetrameter for Byron’s early work will get 3 webpage hits and put most people to sleep.  A discussion of cat cheeszbergerz as comic memes and video game cinematic advertisements will make you popular on Technorati while gaining you Facebook and Twitter comments and hashtags.

It is a sad reality, but also a very true reality.  People want recommendations on a fun joke or a fun phone app game, and not an in depth history lesson on art.  Even very entertaining elements of art are excluded.  It does not all have to be dark with the ennui of the pop art bend to discussions.  Even popular art can have high-brow aspects.  Many political discussions can be tied into extremes of more popular art to give them greater depth.

The last section of these latest samples of poetry will contain samples of my comic and cartoon reviews.  People interested in poetry art analysis can see other perspectives in Internet creativity crossover.  This is another type of book I write, and I hope to get some cross-project readership with promotional previews.

One of the few great problems in creativity is the lack of an urge to create.  Schools all over the nation are closing classes for art, and cutting budgets of creative after school projects to nothing.  Perhaps the problem is starting in music venues that pay bands a percentage of the bar tab of the customers. Bands are often writing songs encouraging people to drink.   The horrors of bad drinking incidents are being blamed on all art everywhere. This is creating a stereotype of art as destructive.

What this is generating is the “no costume kids” and what they mean to society.  What are the no costume kids?  They are a generation afraid to create constructive art.  I noticed them my first year of college in New Orleans.  I was at a friend’s apartment for Halloween, and they had a bucket of candy by the door.  They lived in a discount student area near a “bad” area of town.

The doorbell rang at 11 at night, and I went to the door to hand out candy. I could not figure out what this kid’s costume was, and questioned him.

I asked the kid. “What’s your costume, I can’t tell.”

I will never forget the kid’s bitter and angry sounding answer.

“I’m too poor to have a costume.”

I gave him candy, and he ran off.  The kid was alone with no parents at 11 at night.  In a dangerous urban area where people rarely walked alone even as adults.

Then he left, and he believed all night long that they were “too poor” to have a costume.  He was a dark skinned minority kid, and in thrift store clothes with holes in the pants.  Who was going to need the creative ability to make something out of nothing  more than this child?  How was it programed out of his brain?

What kind of society does the creation of this kind of a mentality to a child?  I read National Geographic as a kid for a hobby.  This publication is filled with pictures of people all over the world who weave sticks, crush berries, and mix mud into costumes for festivals for free.

“I am the spirit of the trees and wind!” They say as they place the head dress on their head.  The child that has no twigs and straw to make a head dress tells themselves on some level that God and the spirits are dead.

Couldn’t you take free napkins from Mc Donald’s and tie them into a circle, and put it on your head as an Angel’s halo?  Can’t you use extra pens from the bank, a blank paper plate, and used dental floss and make yourself a mask? Couldn’t you borrow lipstick from your neighbor’s mom’s bathroom, and paint a triangle on your nose and whiskers on your cheeks for a cat?  There are things out there to express yourself with a low cost format.

The American child was carefully convinced that art, creativity, and individuality only exist for those ultra-rich who can buy it.  Perhaps the only people they have seen do art were doing gang tags on a 7 Eleven wall.  An older brother or sister who did well at school, but fell in with the wrong crowd one night in a bad part of town.  These urban artists ran too slow and got sent to jail for their painted tagging. Ever increasing lengthy jail sentence the side effect of society discouraging creativity at every turn.

The children mistook the message of “Don’t glorify gangs and deface private property.” For another meaning. “You will have your life destroyed for showing off your art.”  A rich person could buy a 7 Eleven, and rename it “Coffee Shop Art Gallery” and show off their art all day long.  This person would enjoy not being bothered by police at all. Not every person has that option if they want their creativity to be viewed.  Schools increasingly defund afterschool art programs.  No better use of creativity was given by a government so willing to punish a negative use of art.

The un-costumed child sounded angry even as he was being given candy, and no doubt the seeds of an angry criminal were planted where a nice artist child might have been.  The child was not alone, and hundreds more costume free children rang the door bell at 11 at night.  Many arrived even later in the evening.  What they represented scared me.  No one cared for or recognized their ideas and art.

This is an inspiration and motivation for my online blog and online books.  Almost everything is better compared to thinking you can never dream or create.  In reviewing art you let art live on in a new level.  It is in a new place with new key words, and will likely get more webpage hits.

I want to help the world be filled with people who can live beyond having artless lives.  I want people to be cared for and recognized for both underground and commercial art.  I fear a world filled with ever increasing numbers of angry costume free kids.

 

Chapter 3  Poems Set 3

 

 

 

 

Spider and Bat

 

 

 

The spider eats the fly near

And that is quite a feat here.

For the fly has night’s dark gleams

and moves faster than it seems.

 

Yet the spider makes meals too

as it walks the darkness true.

The bat eats them quite now fast

has in many years now past.

 

Battle hard the spider and bat

on dark oak night branch they sat.

 

Crescent is the darkened moon

death catches the spider soon.

 

The bat wins the night this way *

until dawn must have its sway.

 

 

 

*Authors Note: Creatures of the night often battle for dominance in the hierarchy of life and

death. It seems so important, until the light of day make it all fade away. 14 lines, yet shortened

from true Sonnet meter.

 

 

The Raven Desk

 

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

The truth is easy to see so clearly.

They both make NOTES on their use full here days

In their own quite different sort of ways.

 

A raven is a dark night bird so true

Sings notes in darkened night it flies through.

Sings notes of song power and might now

a raven’s notes for death’s warning how.

 

A writing desk writes notes down every day

It takes note of every life message we say.

It takes down a note of Autumn’s warning now

Avoid the raven will show us her how.

 

A note of life and a note of death’s door*

Two notes to strike at the world unsaid core.

 

*Author’s Note: I once heard the question, “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” when watching the movie Alice in Wonderland. Then it was never answered! It should really be subtitled for modern readers watching. This aggravated me for a while. Then I went on a flight to London, and took a tour of the tower of London. The guide said. “The old world prophecy says that if Ravens leave the tower of London, that England will fall.” A popular hint that no government can stand without the constant death of its subjects. So they keep tame ravens there on perches for the tourists. Then I realized they both make notes! Ravens are birds who sing notes. People write notes to each other on writing desks. (Should I be afraid that the surreal thoughts of dark poets make so much sense to me? I am happy to know the answer never the less.) Ravens swarmed the Tower of London when there was a beheading execution, and leaders of London often wrote the NOTES of execution. Ah, a protest of who was being killed by the government… Underneath it is a political cartoon to the end.

 

 

Social Media Monsters

 

Another social Media page

Rises for the masses rage.

And claim that they care now your friends

But there the knowledge of you ends.

 

A glimmer of a face so cute

A photo of a shiny boot

They think they can judge your worth

And know your every thought from birth.

 

You think you know them back so well

Fall under social media’s spell.

No knowledge of what a brain knows

From a page that social media shows.

 

An intro and a few photos glow

Does not a person’s true worth show.

 

Author’s Note:  The rise of profile pages on social media is a rather monstrous phenomenon.  Sure it can be great fun some days when you are incredibly board.  Yet it lures many people into trusting information they have not seen in real life.

People press the word “friend”, and think they have really gained a person’s good will.  Dating sites are even worse, they make people judge each other based on a few blurry cell phone pictures and an introduction of a few sentences.  They feel they can make long term judgments on a person’s worth based on twenty photos and a few a paragraph of introduction.

Internet monster trolls feel they can post rude comments and hateful ideas based on this one tiny profile.  They see your smiling face on an ancient profile picture, and are sure you are not depressed so that you can take any amount of Internet criticism they can generate.  Haters seem capable of infinite creativity in vicious commentary.

The person you may see on profile photos looking happy may be dealing with far more death and pain than you can imagine from their very brief and edited posts.  You have to be careful that there are worlds you can’t see from that information.  I wrote this poem in a year that I had to learn too many lessons about social media monsters.

 

 

 

Head In Hands

 

 

Awestruck for the soul suck supply

It stuns you never asking why.

Hits you with a hot head in hands

Another dream it soon demands.

 

Life it seems must soon be your pain

Your future it must now take aim.

A Buddha’s demand it will drain

A noble truth it will soon name.

 

Life is – is – is – is the pain now

Lessening of pain you will seek how.

Every door never makes it gone

Another pain it will make it spawn.

 

Now we face the soul suck supply

And to the hot head in hands fly.

 

 

Authors note:  In World Religions class years ago I learned the Buddhist concept that all life is pain.  What we perceive to be pleasure is really just a lessening of pain.   There have been many times in my life where I have felt a really awe striking level of migraine headache pain.  Luckily this eventually got better treatment.

This  quote about pain echoed in my head  as I felt a particularly interestingly evil day of pain.  Is there really such a thing as joy?  Or do we really just have less- bad days sometimes?

 

Mastering Maximum Motivation

 

Mastering Maximum Motivation

Finds your soul in deepest escalation.

Fixing family food makes you feel rude,

Sticking life in sterio type of mood.

 

Savoring Sea Salt Souls of dreaming new.

To find a new motivation for true.

Wake up the dream must awaken here,

And conquer moving to pass a new fear.

 

It seems the world calls moving a new sin,

And sitting with a screen the only win.

In moving the brain can find place new go

With a new light find new thought know.

 

Mastering Maximum Motivation,

Finds your soul in deepest escalation.

 

Author’s Note:  This is in sonnet format, 14 lines of 10 syllables.  It is a move towards the archetype of poetic correction.  I was going to write a book on motivation, and this was going to be a title poem.  Yet everyone is looking for the new motivation that drives them forward like a shock.  There is no “secret key” to perfect motivation.  We all have to search for something new to drive us daily.  There are no simplistic answers for the question of Motivation, and to construct that as a book title would be a joke.

 

This ends the Crimson Darkside first preview.

 

 

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