Firstly, I didn't all have your work in mind when this was written (I hadn't read any of it at that time), and some of those comments were quote from Sjef's orginal post.
You're comments as to why you write, and what you hope to accomplish by doing so were exactly what I was getting at. Just because it ends up online does not make it meaningless...far from it in fact. But the internet has become a clearing house in many ways for substandard thought and work. By and large, Sjef's statement that it results in a: "large number of people devoting a large amount of time to swapping what essentially amounts to nothing" is very true. This is not localized to verse alone, the same thing can be said about music, the media, visual arts and on and on. I myself struggle with the notion (and the futility that can come with it) that in making my own work available online, I'm contributing to the mess. I see my work in a different light, but is it? is it really? I believe it is, and that intention, intelligence, and artistry shine through. I think why one does what they do, has much to to say about the end result. I.E. status or show vs. compulsive need for expression. It's not that the internet is all bad, but it has become more of a problem than a breakthrough. The questions is, how to make the more soulful work 'break through' in a largely vapid virtual world. The issue maybe that it has become very easy to put stuff out there that is missing a certain 'core', as vague as that statement is.
Art of any kind involves having alot of dirt under one's nails. Real meaning comes from what is often an up hill battle or a longer time period than it is from instantly publishing one's Friday night musings about ...whatever.
Having said all of that I really enjoyed this:
ONE. MANY.
When I say—
(the sun sets on a field of blue to orange-red)
it has nothing to do with—
(thin fingers of smoke rise from refugee chimneys)
(tired heart, clutching threadbare rest)
Apologies if this comment is missing something. It's a sunny Saturday aftenon, and outside is calling.
Fishingpoet:
Firstly, I didn't all have your work in mind when this was written (I hadn't read any of it at that time), and some of those comments were quote from Sjef's orginal post.
You're comments as to why you write, and what you hope to accomplish by doing so were exactly what I was getting at. Just because it ends up online does not make it meaningless...far from it in fact. But the internet has become a clearing house in many ways for substandard thought and work. By and large, Sjef's statement that it results in a: "large number of people devoting a large amount of time to swapping what essentially amounts to nothing" is very true. This is not localized to verse alone, the same thing can be said about music, the media, visual arts and on and on. I myself struggle with the notion (and the futility that can come with it) that in making my own work available online, I'm contributing to the mess. I see my work in a different light, but is it? is it really? I believe it is, and that intention, intelligence, and artistry shine through. I think why one does what they do, has much to to say about the end result. I.E. status or show vs. compulsive need for expression. It's not that the internet is all bad, but it has become more of a problem than a breakthrough. The questions is, how to make the more soulful work 'break through' in a largely vapid virtual world. The issue maybe that it has become very easy to put stuff out there that is missing a certain 'core', as vague as that statement is.
Art of any kind involves having alot of dirt under one's nails. Real meaning comes from what is often an up hill battle or a longer time period than it is from instantly publishing one's Friday night musings about ...whatever.
Having said all of that I really enjoyed this:
ONE. MANY.
When I say—
(the sun sets on a field of blue to orange-red)
it has nothing to do with—
(thin fingers of smoke rise from refugee chimneys)
(tired heart, clutching threadbare rest)
Apologies if this comment is missing something. It's a sunny Saturday aftenon, and outside is calling.