have long since "resigned" - and after her death in the young field leave. But the struggle for the words, the voice of a generation has changed his weapons, perhaps because the enemy has become something else: Suddenly, the modern poet is fighting for the issues to write about it. What has not already been said, thought felt? What subject does not have anyone to inspire a poem?
The texts that we write, have not lost any size, no, they will probably never attain, because we in a world in which so many fortunes were spent, missing even the topics for writing: How can we
we the great tragedy of a strange life have not witnessed for review at all? As can we, who are so small that it's almost frightening to seriously make an attempt to put words on paper that move?
We can not.
But still we write. What emerges is a poetry of irrelevance. It is the timid attempt the banal, to grasp the everyday in words - it raise an "art" that is not.
from necessity, we try to inculcate a sense of irrelevance that - and so we seem meaningless words sometimes sad, sometimes happy, sometimes angry - at self-deprecating - and far too often.
The irony seems to have become a universal weapon to be - because it allows us to take any subject's seriousness. However, it is just look at this desperate attempt of the writer something humorous, which makes it even more ridiculous than he write with his "ridiculous" projects, modern poetry, already is.
But what needs to happen to change this situation? A new war? A new disaster? A new "super weapon"? All this to say would be as cynical as macabre, but one will feel sorry for going on that it is only those great human tragedies, which can be a text only material.
These thoughts did not occur alone, but when reading texts on this page and in conversations with a friend I made here.
The texts that we write, have not lost any size, no, they will probably never attain, because we in a world in which so many fortunes were spent, missing even the topics for writing: How can we
we the great tragedy of a strange life have not witnessed for review at all? As can we, who are so small that it's almost frightening to seriously make an attempt to put words on paper that move?
We can not.
But still we write. What emerges is a poetry of irrelevance. It is the timid attempt the banal, to grasp the everyday in words - it raise an "art" that is not.
from necessity, we try to inculcate a sense of irrelevance that - and so we seem meaningless words sometimes sad, sometimes happy, sometimes angry - at self-deprecating - and far too often.
The irony seems to have become a universal weapon to be - because it allows us to take any subject's seriousness. However, it is just look at this desperate attempt of the writer something humorous, which makes it even more ridiculous than he write with his "ridiculous" projects, modern poetry, already is.
But what needs to happen to change this situation? A new war? A new disaster? A new "super weapon"? All this to say would be as cynical as macabre, but one will feel sorry for going on that it is only those great human tragedies, which can be a text only material.
These thoughts did not occur alone, but when reading texts on this page and in conversations with a friend I made here.
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