Fuckin’ Rimbaud…
Who the hell was he anyways?
Not some shitty Leonard DiCaprio Indie film (have you seen it?)
What is my point?
Fuckin’ Rimbaud…
It rolls of the tongue like saying Paul Verlaine
Oh sweety
It’s a miserable existence to go after those you cannot have
Fuckin’ Rimbaud…
Shoot me, my love and I will tell you the mysteries of the universe
A purer vision (haha)
Oh sweety
You sound like you’ve been watching too much late night television
Fuckin’ Rimbaud…
Surroundin’ my mind
Turnin’ me inside out
Fuckin’ Rimbaud
The repetition will get you every time [(but your love sentences me to your verse!)]
Fuckin' Rimbaud
!-
Andrew McGeever
- Posts: 905
- Joined: Sun Jul 07, 2002 10:02 pm
Dear smccallon,
I presume your "poem" was meant as some kind of joke.
Your title betrays a lack of language ; the use of the "f" word.
Your first line begs the answer "go and find out!".
The rest descends even further: it is of sub-drivel proportions.
As for Arthur Rimbaud, his poetry is worthy of study. One of my favourites is "Le Dormeur Du Val", a beautifully crafted sonnet which I'm sure you've read. Just in case you haven't, here it is (apart from the accents/ inflections which I don't know how to type)....
Le Dormeur Du Val
C'est un trou de verdure ou chante une riviere
Accrochant follenent aux herbes des haillons
D'argent; ou le soleil, de la montagne fiere,
Luit : c'est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.
Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tete nue,
Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est etendu dans l'herbe, sous la nue,
Pale dans son lit vert ou la lumiere pleut.
Les pieds dans les glaieuels, il dort. Souriant comme
Souriant un enfant malade, il fait un somme :
Nature, berce-le chaudement : il a froid.
Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine;
Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine
Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouge au cote droit.
I studied this sonnet in my French class in 1965: it still resonates. That is what good poetry does. Don't you agree?
Andrew.
I presume your "poem" was meant as some kind of joke.
Your title betrays a lack of language ; the use of the "f" word.
Your first line begs the answer "go and find out!".
The rest descends even further: it is of sub-drivel proportions.
As for Arthur Rimbaud, his poetry is worthy of study. One of my favourites is "Le Dormeur Du Val", a beautifully crafted sonnet which I'm sure you've read. Just in case you haven't, here it is (apart from the accents/ inflections which I don't know how to type)....
Le Dormeur Du Val
C'est un trou de verdure ou chante une riviere
Accrochant follenent aux herbes des haillons
D'argent; ou le soleil, de la montagne fiere,
Luit : c'est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.
Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tete nue,
Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est etendu dans l'herbe, sous la nue,
Pale dans son lit vert ou la lumiere pleut.
Les pieds dans les glaieuels, il dort. Souriant comme
Souriant un enfant malade, il fait un somme :
Nature, berce-le chaudement : il a froid.
Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine;
Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine
Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouge au cote droit.
I studied this sonnet in my French class in 1965: it still resonates. That is what good poetry does. Don't you agree?
Andrew.
-
Andrew McGeever
- Posts: 905
- Joined: Sun Jul 07, 2002 10:02 pm
Andrew,
Thank you for your comments. In writing this I was imagining Rimbaud placed in the context of American society today. It is meant as a joke in plenty of ways.
Thanks,
Sean
http://www.livejournal.com/users/passthrufire
Thank you for your comments. In writing this I was imagining Rimbaud placed in the context of American society today. It is meant as a joke in plenty of ways.
Thanks,
Sean
http://www.livejournal.com/users/passthrufire