Day 7 NaPoWriMo

Bella Basura dot com

Yesterday I got a new domain name for my blog/website. I am very excited, I’m sure it will help my SEO profile. Even though I don’t know what that means.
I’m so inspired I wrote an haiku about it.

bella basura dot com
Please note my new domain name
Easy to recall
It’s bella basura dot com

The main reason I did it, apart from the fact that wordpress kept suggesting to me that I did it, was to remove intrusive pop-up ads. So here’s another poem I wrote about it.
This time it’s a triolet.

bella basura dot com
Go to bella basura dot com
For your bella basura needs
Like me! follow! links at bottom
Go to bella basura dot com
See where bella is coming from
Go to bella basura dot com
For all your bella basura needs

Please update your bookmark and send me a message in the comments to let me know.

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Day 6 – NaPoWriMo

Arthur Rimbeau

A Formal Excercise

Research is easy with the internet. When I decided write a poem for NaPoWriMo in the most difficult form I could find, google quickly threw me a TRIOLET. A form popular in the seventeenth century and derived from the form of traditional French folk songs. It is a form considered hard to do well, and prone to doggerel. Arthur Rimbeau was apparently fond of them, although as he only did them in French, so I don’t know how stilted they might be.

Although research is easy on the internet, particularly straight forward things like formal poetic conventions, it is also a minefield of confusions, lies and sheer bullshit.

After ploughing through myriad internet-borne variations of what a TRIOLET is, I cobbled together my own interpretation, a working formula for writing a TRIOLET. Unfortunately by this time my imagination and creativity had been worn thin, and I ended up writing a poem about writing a poem – YAWN!

Here is the definition of TRIOLET that I used in day 6 of NaPoWriMo.
TRIOLET – In it’s English form consists of eight lines of iambic tetrameters,
with a repetitive rhyme scheme   ABaAabAB
The first line being repeated in lines 4 and 7
The second line repeated in the eighth line.
The resultant poem is HERE

Credit – OK Google for the image of Arthur Rimbeau.

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Day 5 of NaPoWriMo

Today, the 5th day of NaPoWriMo, I went back to a poem I first constructed in 1998. 

Taking the Permutation Poems of Brion Gysin as a starting point, a form that is defined simply as listing the random re-arranging of a the words in a four or five word sentence. I was particularly influenced by  his poem Kick That Habit Man. ( written manually in 1959). I actually saw this particular poem performed back in 1982 at The Final Academy in the Brixton Ritzy. That weekend found Brion Gysin performing alongside fellow beat writers William Burroughs, John Gionio, as well as sound artist Z’ev and  Genesis P-Orridge’s nascent Psychic Television.

They were performances that deeply impressed my mind, as a working class 18 year-old who had jumped the train from the home counties to be at this event, it was a peak experience in my development as a writer.

Years later, in 1998 in fact, I coerced a geek-friend into writing a simple computer programme to generate a list of word order permutations of any given four-word phrase.

Suddenly, I could write like Brion Gysin at the touch of a button.

In this context, my programmed poems are connected to a literary formal continuum that first appeared ten years before Gysin named them Permutation Poems. In George Orwell’s 1984, popular proletarian culture is dominated by “sentimental songs which were composed entirely by mechanical means on a special kind of kaleidoscope known as a versificator” (George Orwell 1984 Part 2 Chapter 4 Secker and Warburg 1949). Later,  J G Ballard in Vermilliion Sands (published in 1971), describes “a world in which verse is churned out to order by a machine, and is measured by its length” (Chris Beckett The Context and Date of Composition of an Abandoned Literary Draft Electronic British Library Journal, Mar 2014). Further, the concept of mechanically derived literature has resonances in current debate around definitions of AI. It seems to me, that Permutation Poems may yet prove to be a dominating form for poetry in the 21st century. 

The most successful of my programmed poems was entitled “F**king”, and is reproduced in full on my NaPoWriMo page here.

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napowrimo Sonnet for David Bowie

My third napowrimo day – and although it’s probably cheating, and certainly blatant plagiarism – I have constructed a sonnet made up entirely from doctored David Bowie lyrics.

Sonnet For David Bowie

So I am pushing through the market square
Where I do see so many mothers crying.
We heard the news that just came over the air
They say we have five years left to die in.
Although last night they loved you and your things,
It is on Am-e-ri-ka’s tortured brow,
Those angels opening doors and pulling some strings
Know that Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow.

But there’s a Starman waiting in the sky
While it has got your mother in a whirl,
There is a Starman waiting in the sky
Not sure if you are a boy or a girl
Run for the shadows in these golden years
Wha wha, gold, wha wha wha, golden years.

New Bella Basura posting

Maxine and Bella Merged - Bella Basura 2018

Maxine and Bella Merged – Bella Basura 2018

TOGETHER

Once long ago we were connected, all together, gathering in a circle, outward facing, covering each others backs. We were solid and safe in three hundred and sixty directions. We were whole wholesome together connected. But I don’t remember, do you remember?

And yet again eyes connect across canyons of misunderstandings. That must have been some other time.

We were our own human barricade, strong in limb, Amazonians, muscled women of plunder, not war, just necessity. Swooping in the dark, together, finger-wings tip-to-tip, touching. The storm comes around again flashing jolt and thunder-crack. Eyes meet and connect in metallic shadows, forked in lightening. But I don’t remember, do you remember?

I search your face for explanations, but your eyes don’t speak to me. Your facial expression caught in the frozen photographic moment, is remarkably composed, held peaceful and distant in placid compassion. Your eyes are numb they do not speak to me. Aloof in life, that’s me.

And yet again eyes connect across canyons of misunderstandings. That must have been some other time.

It must have been some other time, another place, it doesn’t look the same, it’s so different. Only your silent eyes are the same. I catch a glance into them and everything shifts, somehow slightly bigger. Your empty eyes are the constant axis through which consciousnesses turn through gyrations of immensity and I know we were connected, once long ago. But I don’t remember, do you remember?

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Sweet Surrender


Today I wanted to check I knew the difference between “Satsang” and “Darshan”, so I headed to my faithful old dictionary to look it up. My solid reliable “old skool” paper dictionary – three inches thick, bound in tatty blue faux leather, machine-blocked in brass-coloured foil, thumb-indexed A to Z, and fossilised stopped dead in its tracks when it was published in 1988.
When I write that out it sounds absurd, a counter-intuitive act of self-sabotage. Why didn’t I just go “google-satsang-meaning”? Easy as pie.
In my defence, it was early morning and I don’t use any electronic communication devices until mid-day because I am writing.
So I thumbed my way through my big old tome, with it’s foxed corners and cranky colophon. After several minutes I came fruitlessly to “Satsuma”. I slammed the book shut.
“google-satsang-meaning” I barked.

Bella Basura 2018

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Clutches of Love

Spent today working on my next solo chapbook – Clutches of Love – due out early  February…

Here is a Boxing Day taster to whet your appetite.

Lost Again By Dave Challis March 2017

At the looking glass rotunda
In the centre of the city
I swear
I saw you
Sidling sharpish
Invisible-like
Under billows
Of covering smoke
I swear
I saw you
Slipping off sideways
Thin through the mirror’s edge
Disappearing from sight

 

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