Interact 10 - Liar

[twelveoone]

"En Flyktning krysser sitt spor"

"Only then, you see,
only then can we cast aside
the robes, Jante's fine tuned straight jackets,
and leave this room as true humans.."

Did I get that right?

In a PM Liar wrote "The main themes are musings about people and people interaction." There does seem to be that consistency. In "Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning" one sees his thoughts, in reaction to something said, observations on the surroundings. The" voices" are his thoughts. They are well thought out, no logic faults, the argument, the illustrations to strengthen the argument, the conclusion. One sees his thinking, he does it quite well, but I also mention this as a criticism. One feels one step removed from the action, almost an intellectualized alienation of "me in the moment". Too much of poetry is like that, crying out for a "Fuck this!" or a squirrel dropping an anvil, or even I bit more of a time-line. This is a general criticism of a style he seems to follow.

Two other things, I wish to touch upon, Liar gave me a short list of what he considers "experiments","a bitter bit" was one, that I could see as being experimental, one of the others was "Definition: Sanjib", at this point I must ask him why does he consider it experimental.

The other was an approach to poetry that he sometimes uses, "the box of LEGO pieces", I would like to hear quite a bit more about it, perhaps an example.

One other question, do you write in Swedish also? Can you give us an example?

The two he has opened for questions, dissection, analysis are:

Definition: Sanjib

and

Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning

 

[twelveoone]

Definition: Sanjib

Definition: Sanjib
by Liar ©

taller than most
thinner than everything
a breath that watches
and eyes that sing

he carries a book
he carries a knife
and his father's ring

all mortal man
and not afraid
of anything

Sanjib walks vividly
as if each step is ascent
a stairway to eternity
a thumping syncope
to heaven's symphony

but never too high
in harmony to heed
and stop for children
women, elders and tourists

Sanjib draws houses
combs his hair to the left
drives better
than he dances
likes Brodsky and Peanuts
and real English tea

he beckons me closer
and weaves his future
over another cup
of Lady Grey's finest
explains it all to me

a direction and dream
to marry a European girl
cherish, honor and achieve
and live by the sea

he probably will
because everyone can see
that even the gods swoon
when Sanjib smiles

at least
the European girls do
and bloody hell
(but I keep it to myself)
so do I

 

[twelveoone]

Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning

Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning
by Liar ©

For those who can notice such things,
these walls must roar
in echo of sentences never spoken,
and other ungodly expressions never exclaimed
into the stale air, this perpetual stench,
indecisives' sweat impregnated
in eiderdown, oak and leather.

Amateur Hour recorded rhetorics
whispers past failures back at us.
Not that I listen anyway,
my focus strained to your voice
and your voice alone.

I knew you would choose your blues
for this karaoke kick with too much care.
It is open night on spit, and the mike
that is my perception, erect, anticipating
your growl and grip, is primed for action.
Satisfaction is a deepthroat grunt
of passing thresholds unknown to science.

And I wait, I wait,
I god damn piously wait for you
to stop talking...

...and start speaking.

You own the words... you carry them
like nitro, locked in a Pandora's Box,
suppressed to oblivion and shame.
But as tangible as your name.

Words you could never commit
to runes linked - they would scorch paper,
and wreak havoc if digitally committed
to transport through a fatal pixel push.

But spoken,
cutting and fusing new neural paths,
they would static charge your spine
and taste like scotch and semen
on your tongue...

...a semantic Sangreal spell that would
let me tear that skimpy see-though
Freudian slip right off your burning blush,
and pin your self promotion banter
to the nearest wall.

Teeth would sink softly into succulent flesh,
and god almighty, if you scream
and sing the way you can - between whimper
and borderline laughs - my Kool-Aid plasm will
once and for all purify into the true red
that paints your cheeks
in the complexion of clandestine claims.

One breath would drown in the other's salt,
and there would be no safety fuse...

...not since you scoured your closet
for the perfect mask, a deck of trump excuses,
and found that beautiful veil.
The only reason we'd ever need
to unleash each other's beasts.

Only then, you see,
only then can we cast aside
the robes, Jante's fine tuned straight jackets,
and leave this room as true humans...

...who didn't cower and shrink
to misconceptions of disapproval dreads,
who have no chains and will carry,
with pride, halos of splinter identities
in a sand paper smoothed world.

Speak, I beg you, speak those words
and shatter something still unknown
inside of me into glass dust
that can burn my veins clean,
tear those optic synapses apart
and let your ethereal fire forge me
sapient once more.

If those words and this room,
whatever it is that so desperately needs
to resound in here, can't heal us,
right this moment,
nothing ever will.

 

[twelveoone]

re: Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning

General Question (anyone)
I'm a little confused as to the definition of "dramatic monologue". Would "Hands..." be considered one?

 

[Liar]

*tap tap tap* Is this on? Well...um...hi. Forgive me for being a little nervous here but I have really no idea where a thread of this kind might head, or what is expected of me.

There are some really good questions in there, and I hope I can do them justice. It's not always that I can even formulate my own reasoning verbally to myself... But I'll do my best.

I'll just get one easy question out of the way, before I tackle the ones that forces me to actually think.

One other question, do you write in Swedish also? Can you give us an example?

No, I don't.
Or rather, not poetry. It could be because it is my mother tongue, or that it simply have a different melody to it, but I've found Swedish to be a language impossible to write poetry in. yeah, many great writers here do, but even their work sounds banale to me sometimes. Words that connect, have the rhight rhyme and rhythm in English never seem to sound anything but plain and dull in Swedish.

One thing that this language of mine is good at though, is humour, wit, comedy. I can spit witty, cool, ironic dialouge in Swedish as easy as I can walk. So that is what I use it for - writing comedy stageplays, which I am often fortunate to have a venue for getting played. Played, I said. Not payed. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?

#L

 

[twelveoone]

No, I don't.
Or rather, not poetry. It could be because it is my mother tongue, or that it simply have a different melody to it, but I've found Swedish to be a language impossible to write poetry in. yeah, many great writers here do, but even their work sounds banale to me sometimes. Words that connect, have the rhight rhyme and rhythm in English never seem to sound anything but plain and dull in Swedish.

One thing that this language of mine is good at though, is humour, wit, comedy. I can spit witty, cool, ironic dialouge in Swedish as easy as I can walk. So that is what I use it for - writing comedy stageplays, which I am often fortunate to have a venue for getting played. Played, I said. Not payed. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?

#L

This may a bit of an outlandish suggestion on my part, have you ever tried reformatting the comedy stageplays, then working on an English translation for poetry. I already see a bit of wit and irony in your poetry. May give it a bit more dialogue. Humour is tough, I heard somewhere that one does not know the language, until one knows why the jokes are funny. But, then again no one ever accused me of writing poetry, but I have written some funny stuff.

Good Luck on getting paid also.

 

[Liar]

This may a bit of an outlandish suggestion on my part, have you ever tried reformatting the comedy stageplays, then working on an English translation for poetry. I already see a bit of wit and irony in your poetry. May give it a bit more dialogue. Humour is tough, I heard somewhere that one does not know the language, until one knows why the jokes are funny. But, then again no one ever accused me of writing poetry, but I have written some funny stuff.

Already working on translating a Swedish stageplay into an English novel. It works pretty well, and the comedy seems to work in both languages, save for a few wordplay puns that weren't all that funny to begin with. Narration and conversations does however get another flavor when in English. The humor gets more hard-hitting and raw to be able to keep the same tempo. Yours is not a language that does subtle self-irony easily. Or maybe I have a lot to learn about that.

Good Luck on getting paid also.

Thx.

Ok now... on to Sanjib.
(The LEGO and your first issue are the toughest to answer, so lazy me is starting at the bottom.)

#L

 

[Liar]

Two other things, I wish to touch upon, Liar gave me a short list of what he considers "experiments","a bitter bit" was one, that I could see as being experimental, one of the others was "Definition: Sanjib", at this point I must ask him why does he consider it experimental.

Experimental is a subjective thing, I guess. Most people would look at that poem and go "But that's the least odd shit you've ever written." And they would be right. The thing is though...that's what makes it experimental. It's an experiment to me, a challenge to my style and voice as a writer. I didn't go by gut feeling for what sounded right for me, but disconnected one part of what I deem do be good writing, to focus on another, and to mimic a style that other poets use, to see if I could get the feel for it.

It's assimilation versus accomodation. We all learn new shit by either of those two methods. Normally when I try to evolve as a poet (and I guess that goes for the most of us) I do so by assimilation. That's the easiest way. I take a new expression or a new concept and try to make it fit into my view of the world, find a niche for it in my mind where it makes sense.

Here I went for ackommodation instead. Meaning that in order to be able to write a poem like this, I had to bend the way I think to fit the style, instead of the other way around. I had to expand my view of what I thouight I was able to do as a writer. The result is not a very experimental or avant garde poem per se, but the process of creating it meant pushing a helluva lot more envelope for me than in the ones that I can sprinkle with funky alliteration and far out metaphors. (Like 'Hands Feel...'). After I had written Sanjib, and a few other poems like it, it became a natural part within my natural horizon, and those days I can more easily incorporate other ideas based on this more trimmed down type of writing into my copia, my library of poetic tools.

#L

ps. If this post made nil sense, I blame a severe cold. I have more snot in my head than brains at the moment.

 

[Liar]

Tried to adress your other Q's, but it's 2.30 AM, and I didn't make any sense.

2 b continued tomorrow.

#L

 

[WickedEve]

I know I need to *read* this thread first, possibly ask questions, but until I have time, I just want to say that Liar is one of my favorite poets here. He consistently writes some excellent poetry.

 

[My Erotic Tale]

liar~

I know I need to *read* this thread first, possibly ask questions, but until I have time, I just want to say that Liar is one of my favorite poets here. He consistently writes some excellent poetry.

NO no NO no...
wicked thats a lie!!!
he's extraordinary...
hehehe...he's
vond'e'var~
okay he's a liar~
a zen master of pen~
he can shake you with shakespear~
or boggle the mind with words you've never
seen before. a word wizard!
yep a good ole boy that there liar is...
liar and poetry is like titties and beer
they go together great...hehehey!
007 bond's secret agent affiliate
codename ...liar~ (don't tell)
liar and lit are like spots on a cow,
feathers on a chicken, paint on a barn~
would I shoulder to shoulder with the man
in the trenches............(thinkin')...........sure,
yep liars a chap of chaps~



okay I have a question...
the words liar use are like ...well you
need a dictionary to read some of his poems
is this a lure trait of poetry or does he talk like
that in real life?...hehehehe heck of an agent
confuse the enemy...hehehe

okay my two cents

 

[twelveoone]

I know I need to *read* this thread first, possibly ask questions, but until I have time, I just want to say that Liar is one of my favorite poets here. He consistently writes some excellent poetry.

Well, it's ChristmasEve, princess of shortness. One of MY flavorite poets. I think a valid set of questions would be why is he and what makes it excellent.
Be most interesting to get your take on "Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning".

Come to think of it, it is an interesting title Liar, how did you arrive at it?

 

[Liar]

Be most interesting to get your take on "Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning".

Come to think of it, it is an interesting title Liar, how did you arrive at it?

Ah, this one I can reply to in a jiffy. (I'm at work and am supposed to be doing RGB profiling of laser printers).

First of all, it sounded cool. Sometimes that is enough for me.

Second of all, the poetry that is burning -- the words that are dying to get out, to get spoken. Third of all, those words are everything but spoken. This was a very specific moment between me and someone. I could see the words in her face, and I could feel them in the tenseness of her hands and body. The hands couldfeel what the ears couldn't hear.

Ok, back to work.

#L

 

[flyguy69]

.... The thing is though...that's what makes it experimental. It's an experiment to me, a challenge to my style and voice as a writer. ....

I have said before that one of the things I admire most in a poet is his/her willingness to challenge their own limitations (haven't I said that before? Well, I thought it!). This was one of my favorite poems of yours for that very reason.

I have enjoyed both your poetry and your comments because you are possessed of the tools necessary to examine writing in an academic light, without letting that light bleach the beauty from the words. It has been very instructive for those of us new to poetry.

 

[WickedEve]

Well, it's ChristmasEve, princess of shortness. One of MY flavorite poets. I think a valid set of questions would be why is he and what makes it excellent.

I enjoy his erotica. He doesn't waste words. There's no needless clutter. I know that I can be a bit too brief. I think liar keeps a lot of his poetry brief, yet gives the readers enough to satisfy them. And the words he does offer are good. Very good.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

I have a question for Liar.

In addition to being a poet and a playwriter, you're also a musician (and a very good one ).

I notice something, certainly more in "Hands..." than in "Sanjib", but also in many, many of your poems that can be compared to the best of Denis Hale, Perks, and Linbido, for example, and that's a sense of urgency, pace and rhythm. Do you feel that yourself, and do you make a conscious effort to fine tune that particular aspect of poetry? Do you hear performing voices in your head as you write, that lead you to choose certain words and structures instead of others of equal objective significance?

And do you agree with Fernando Pessoa when he says that "The Poet is a Liar"?

 

[Liar]

Ok now... the last of 1201's initial questions:

In a PM Liar wrote "The main themes are musings about people and people interaction." There does seem to be that consistency. In "Hands Feel Your Poetry Burning" one sees his thoughts, in reaction to something said, observations on the surroundings. The" voices" are his thoughts. They are well thought out, no logic faults, the argument, the illustrations to strengthen the argument, the conclusion. One sees his thinking, he does it quite well, but I also mention this as a criticism. One feels one step removed from the action, almost an intellectualized alienation of "me in the moment". Too much of poetry is like that, crying out for a "Fuck this!" or a squirrel dropping an anvil, or even I bit more of a time-line. This is a general criticism of a style he seems to follow.

Yep, I can see what you're getting at, and I do get that kind of reaction alot about my most common form of writing, of which Hands Feel is an example. It's actually quite vauge and open for alot more intepretation than I initially intended, when in fact the actual thing that I'm trying to describe is a very specific moment in my life. But the thing is, the scenery, timeline and other specifics were not important for the message. It may have given it more meat on the bones (or bones to support the meat might be a better metaphor here) if I had served

It's actually kind of weird that Eve says she likes my stuff (though it makes me giddy all over ), when the first tip she gives to a newcomer looking for advice usually is "Show, don't tell." In two thirds of my poems I show sod all. It's all approximate similies and metaphors that I only can assume and hope will make sense to most readers at least.

I remember specifically one poem that made me start to think "Am i evolving as a writer, or just becoming more and more vauge and cryptic?" When Pillow Tale Vignette hit the New Poems list, I was honestly chocked to see comments and feedback saying "Good poem...um...what is it about?" Because to me it was obvious. And to fill it with more direct pointers to the actual details going on would had made the poem, I dunno, tacky.

It's a dilemma of mine, I guess. I often want to be more straight on, feed the reader more than a motion blurred image. But most of the time when I try, the end result sounds just plain bad.

The other was an approach to poetry that he sometimes uses, "the box of LEGO pieces", I would like to hear quite a bit more about it, perhaps an example.

Words are funny little things. You carry them around in your vocabulary bag, and you pick them up, stick them to eachother and form sentences, notions, porn stories, poems, novels, whatever. But most of the time when we put them back in the bag, we do not disassemble them from the context we used them in. So the next time we rummage around in the bag, it is easier to grip the larger clusters of LEGO pieces, and reuse a context that worked previously.

I try as much as I can to make an effort to break up the clusters, and to pick words at random, or because of length, rhyme, onomapoetics, and apply them in contexts I have never seen or used them in before. You know how a blue LEGO piece can be the iris of an eye, a part of the blue sea, or the blue lights at the top of a police car (what are those called?!). Or the sixth leg of a blue elephant with pink ears. Same thing with, for instance, the word "blue".

One of my favourite poetic pastimes is to fuck with grammar. Turn nouns into adjectives, turn whole phrases into verbs and just generally shake a strophe around until a new one emerges. The result is nine times out of ten a disaster. But the tenth one is usually really cool. And most of all, I had fun doing it.

#L

 

[average gina]

Ah, this one I can reply to in a jiffy. (I'm at work and am supposed to be doing RGB profiling of laser printers).

First of all, it sounded cool. Sometimes that is enough for me.

Second of all, the poetry that is burning -- the words that are dying to get out, to get spoken. Third of all, those words are everything but spoken. This was a very specific moment between me and someone. I could see the words in her face, and I could feel them in the tenseness of her hands and body. The hands couldfeel what the ears couldn't hear.

Ok, back to work.

#L

Okay... Now I feel like an 8th grader in a microeconomics class. I just have to say, Liar, that I read The hands could feel what the ears couldn't hear and said to myself, "Ooohh... that's a line of poetry!"

Okay. Continue with the way-over-my-head dialogue.

 

[champagne1982]

Okay... Now I feel like an 8th grader in a microeconomics class. I just have to say, Liar, that I read The hands could feel what the ears couldn't hear and said to myself, "Ooohh... that's a line of poetry!"

Okay. Continue with the way-over-my-head dialogue.

I feel that way, too, Gina. But, to my relief, sometimes we do find a line of poetry amongst the dross of drivel.

Liar, you amaze me! Right along with your fellow ESL poets and writers, you stand as an incredible example of what good vocabulary development can do for us all. As a group, since you're communicating in, what's for you, a foreign language, you've already established that you're really not of average intelligence but a rather large step above.

I find the biggest draw to Liar, as a poet, is his willingness to get dirty with the common labourer and to play Legos with the child in all of us. He finds ways to tell us his stories that are unique, intelligent and challenging but never condescending. Witness, the Lego metaphor.

I don't really have a question for Liar, but I did want to express my appreciation and enjoyment of his wit and ability. Many can make me cry, only a few can make me laugh out loud and Liar is one of the few.

 

[twelveoone]

Re: Re: Interact 10 - Liar

Ok now... the last of 1201's initial questions:

Yep, I can see what you're getting at, and I do get that kind of reaction alot about my most common form of writing, of which Hands Feel is an example. It's actually quite vauge and open for alot more intepretation than I initially intended, when in fact the actual thing that I'm trying to describe is a very specific moment in my life. But the thing is, the scenery, timeline and other specifics were not important for the message. It may have given it more meat on the bones (or bones to support the meat might be a better metaphor here) if I had served ....


It's a dilemma of mine, I guess. I often want to be more straight on, feed the reader more than a motion blurred image. But most of the time when I try, the end result sounds just plain bad.


#L

I didn't find "Hands..." vague at all, terse and tense, (right eve, no wasted words in this). At times we see the thoughts almost coming out as spoken. The tension in the poem mirrors the tension of the moment, nice piece of writing.
As is, it stands. It is opened more with a adroit use of referential concepts, evoking and strengthening what he is saying. As here,

"...a semantic Sangreal spell that would
let me tear that skimpy see-though
Freudian slip right off your burning blush,"
"burning blush"
well damn that's incredible fits in well
"semantic Sangreal"
"Freudian slip" may be the weakest spot in the whole poem, a bit overused, but certainly not a fatal error.

 

[Liar]

I notice something, certainly more in "Hands..." than in "Sanjib", but also in many, many of your poems that can be compared to the best of Denis Hale, Perks, and Linbido, for example, and that's a sense of urgency, pace and rhythm. Do you feel that yourself, and do you make a conscious effort to fine tune that particular aspect of poetry? Do you hear performing voices in your head as you write, that lead you to choose certain words and structures instead of others of equal objective significance?

When I read poems, my own and others, I always seem to word them under my breath to feel how the syllables roll. And I do this quite fast. The way I picture most of what I write, is that it's read in quite a high tempo. I've heard a few audio recorded poems here and elsewhere and been to the odd poetry reading, and I almost always feel that the reading is way too slow for the text. So yes, there is a tempo there. I can't say that I make any special effort to follow a rhythm. I guess that subconsciously I do filter out words that don't have the right pattern for the place I want to put it in. But most of the time, it's about jotting down a poem, reading it out, and just see if there are parts in it that sticks out sonically.

Huh. This could call for a thread of it's own... how do you guys "hear" poetry when you read and write it?

And do you agree with Fernando Pessoa when he says that "The Poet is a Liar"?

Methinks ol' Fernando is a bit of a cynic.

But a liar must be a poet to succeed. To tell a lie so beautifully that the listener doesn't care wether it's the truth or not. Wuddntja say?

#L

 

[Liar]

I feel that way, too, Gina. But, to my relief, sometimes we do find a line of poetry amongst the dross of drivel.

Liar, you amaze me! Right along with your fellow ESL poets and writers, you stand as an incredible example of what good vocabulary development can do for us all. As a group, since you're communicating in, what's for you, a foreign language, you've already established that you're really not of average intelligence but a rather large step above.

Gee thanks. But with the risk of looking dumb as a brick..."ESL"? What's that?

#L

 

[*Catbabe*]

Gee thanks. But with the risk of looking dumb as a brick..."ESL"? What's that?

#L

ESL= English (as a ) Second Language

 

[Liar]

ESL= English (as a ) Second Language

Thx.

(and that's all I'm gonna say this late at night)

#L, zzz zzz zzz

 

[twelveoone]

At the risk of roiling up the crowd, I would argue that English IS a second language for most citizens of the US, now I'm not making an anti-immigrant statement, or an English Uber Alles statement, I'm refering to the home grown products of the so-called education system, the managing class.
Both Lauren and Liar have shown a precision and a care for the sound of the words that most "americans" wouldn't.

I do have an issue with writing something because it sounds cool, much prefering to hear that this was written this way to evoke an image or a feeling.