Poetry Is Art




Artificial Artists (State Of The Art)
My words are not written for me to make a profit
Nor do I profess to be a spiritual prophet
I just want a gallery to display what I create
Just a place where no one's counting up the gate

You have confused God with your Almighty Dollar
And sold your soul for some artificial power
Inside you're already equipped with all that you need
I won't be bought 'cos I've closed my eyes to the beauty of greed

Fools will compare music of yesterday and today
Technology can't make up for words without a way
If a song's natural strength is not strong enough
Why soften it by stuffing padding in the fluff?

I hear a lot of slick production on the radio
I really think the rock has gotten out of control
I have seen the artists struggling in smoke filled bars
And now in my visions I can see beyond the stars

All I ever hear these days are sopped-up smoothy tunes
Rising up the charts as fast as full hot air balloons
Even if you don't hear music from my point of view
Stop polishing the rock, don't let it roll over you

You're making lots of dollars but you're not making any sense
Your smoothy tunes lack the passion that makes a song intense
Believe the words you sing or the song is finished from the start
Stop writing from your wallet, let it flow from in your heart

Put some soul behind your roll and find the spirit that you lack
Once it's sold you can't buy it back even with your endless stack
In spite of all you've made, it's a fact you can't dismiss
Art flows from within, not the corporate edifice

Record company politics and artists just don't mix
The ones who steal the money have one name, "666"
Pride won't buy your dinner but inside is where it pays
Despite the Record Biz, one song has several ways

I don't want to become anyones hero
But I wouldn't be here now if mine added up to zero
I don't want to dictate the style of music that you do
I just want to hear something a little bit more true

I could go on and on and on and I think I will anyway
Until someday when it's you in your music I hear you play
Can it really be so hard to feel and write down what you think
Or is there something wrong, is your pen filled with phony ink?

While it may be ok for you to live your life a lie
Your fans worship you and I can't help but wonder why
You have worked so hard to be what you wanted to be
But to be yourself, you shouldn't have to try

Time after time you sing and yet your song remains unsung
Show us your true colors, expose your insides to the sun
Songs are more than simply words for you to sing
Will you ever understand that money isn't everything?

I spin the radio dial and hear the commercial pioneers
Every radio station is poison to my ears
That isn't the kind of artist that I want to be
All I really want is for my music to be me

And so the con-artists continue to sell out their souls
But mine's committed to making sure the rock still rolls
And there is only one way to get back what they have lost
But the barrier between greed and visions must be crossed


 

 

Don't Sell Out

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Artificial Artists (Reprise)
Have all the sex you want
But not with old St. Nic
He won't come down your chimney
With his toys or with his prick
You're like The Ghost Of Christmas Past
'Cos you're easy to see through
Santa may not be an artist
But he's more real than you

I wouldn't want your sex
If you sat on me and whirled
It's easy to get caught up
In the material world
Greed is a temptation
I found hard to rise above
But even Mr Number One
Knows money can't buy love

Compared to your record sales
You're just a song and dance
So buy a baggy pair
And stop grabbing at your pants
It's hard to feel reality
Even in the end
When the world that you live in
Is nothing but pretend

One day you'll realize
There is no surgery
That can alter what we hear
Or the man we see
I may have two
But that's the other side of me
At least both of my faces
Reflect what's inside me

For all I care you can freeze yourself
For a thousand years
I'll be dead but even in my grave
I'll still plug my ears
I'll never let you buy the rights
To any of my songs
They came from inside me
And that's where ownership belongs


Artificial Artists (Synthesis)
This song has come down over the past 20 years in various forms and revisions. The original writing was nothing like what it has now become. I suppose partly because the "State Of The Art" has changed so much over the past 20 years. It was born out of frustration over trying to find something to listen to on the radio one night when I was a teenager. I started writing about whatever was playing on the different stations and it has developed over time into my definition of art. Some of the parts I wrote were angry diatribes at a few performers who annoyed me more than others. Some parts I threw away after deciding they were too radical and over the top for a song I cared so much about. A few I liked even though they were nasty attacks on a couple of performers in particular. They are now in the "Reprise" of "Artificial Artists". Well what can I say, I'm still angry.


Artists Are Lonely
Artists are lonely
We've been known to go insane
We feel so much our hearts confuse the brain
Minds clogged up without a place to drain
Accepted only if we entertain

Artists have talent
Which all too often is abused
Laugh all you want but I'm unamused
When money and emotions are fused
My abilities are better left unused

Artists are happy
In the worlds that we create
In my world I reshape the shapes I hate
Where greed and pride cannot penetrate
Where colors aren't forced to segregate

 

Death Of A Virgin
I was in a queezy state all day
The clock was ticking in a digital way
The minutes crawled through swamp filled hours
While the seconds stung like sleeting showers

Eating supper seemed to make it worse
But I needed strength to overcome the curse
The one that's always held me back
Fear whispered of the confidence I lack

The time drew near, my hand reached the door
My feet stepped in on to the hallowed floor
My eyes explored the atmosphere
My ears listened for sounds I came to hear

I knew this time I would not back down
These imprisoned words would release their sound
As those before me with unchained hearts
Exposed their passion beyond naked parts

Would I look as smooth or sound as cool
As the dark knights whose lessons teach this school?
If I pass the test am I let in?
Now the time has come, let the rhymes begin

A virgin poet took to the stage
Reading words into climactic verbal rage
Who cares if I failed or made the grade?
The poem's been read, I'm finally laid!

 
Moon & River
A bright and steamy afternoon
Beside the shady path, I sat to rest my weary legs
As I looked up a lonely glimmer caught my eye
And I thought it odd, mixed in the blue, the moon seemed out of place

Next to the path, the flowing river
Filled the air with the peaceful rush of quiet water
Between the ripples, the pulsating shimmer rolled
While the orb of night tumbled over waves then faded out of sight

Rising from the green of ground
Fading with the Sun, behind my steps, the splashing drowned
By cars, where horses once strode over cobble stones
Along the way are reminder signs of history and bone

These ancient streets exclaim their story
Between the walls of homes much older than old glory
Clouds fill the empty sky, daylight casts a final sliver
Walking home through the Stockade streets, I saw the Moon and River




Poetry Readings - Death Of A Virgin and Moon & River
I did it! I finally did it!!!! I read at an open mic poetry reading for the first time tonight (02/25/2003) at Valentine's in Albany, NY.
I read "Do Not Die For Me" and "Segregation". They have a 2 poem limit so I decided one for peace and the other because it's black history month. Next month the reading will be on March 25th, which just happens to be my 40th birthday. I can't think of a better way to crash into middle age than to spend it with a group of cool poets.
It was a very cool experience. I have been putting this off for over two years since I began going to poetry readings. And I really wasn't as nervous as I thought I'd be. Once I got in front of the mic I was feeling quite comfortable. I can't beleive I have let this escape me for so long. It's amazing what a little bit of fear can hold you back from doing.
I was more nervous making an anouncement for an upcoming peace rally and march in Albany than I was reading my poems. The elements all came together at the right time and I am so glad I finally did it. If you have never done a reading before, you really have to get out there and do it. Just do it!
When I got home I wrote "Death Of A Virgin" which is posted above.
 
May 1, 2004: Schenectady Poetry Horde @ the Moon & River Cafe:
I hosted my first open mic tonight at the Moon & River Cafe. Inspired by the events of the day, I wrote the poem "Moon & River", also posted above.
I read it at the following months reading on June 5. 

JJ

 
A Story
August 8, 2000 -----
I went to a computer convention with a few friends in NY City and afterwards we saw the NY Mets at Shea Stadium. That may not seem important to Van Gogh admirers, but because the game ran late, due to a rain delay, we decided not to make the 3 hour drive home and stayed through Sunday. We happened to be walking a block away from the Museum Of Modern Art and I thought we should go see if they might have any VanGogh's there. I did not know that Starry Night was there and when I walked around the wall barrior and saw it I had shivers. I was afraid to get too close. My friend was laughing at me because I was afraid to get right up there and look. But it was such an emotional moment. It took me almost 10 minutes to move close enough to see the details. Wow, what a moment. And I was thinking the night before that watching the Mets win at Shea was one of the most exciting moments of my life, as I had never been there or seen my favorite team play an official game. As exciting as that was, seeing Starry Night in person was absolutely sublime. The brush stokes have never been truly visible in photos and to see the little gaps where there was no paint was astonishing to me. Olive Trees also had these small areas all around and within. It made me wonder if it was done on purpose by Vincent, or if he just did not have enough paint and decided to make the canvas areas part of the painting. I saw hundreds of paintings there by other artists and did not see one where anyone left little gaps. It just caught my eye and made me think about what Vincent might have been contemplating. Perhaps he was simply conserving scarce supplies of paint and decided that the color of the canvas could be used as background. Has that color of the canvas changed over the years? I wonder if it looks the same as when Vincent painted it. Well it was behind glass, but Olive Trees was not. I got so close with my eyeballs the security guards were looking at me funny. LOL, I think they were worried I was going to steal it, or eat it.... HAha. I went back to look at it again before we left. I just had to see it for real one more time. I feel like I have been transformed. I have greatly admired VanGogh for his paintings and letters for several years. Now I understand.... why his paintings are far and away the most valuable paintings of any artist who has ever put his heart and soul on canvas. Seeing Starry Night on my computer screen or in books on flat paper is an impressive sight. Seeing it in person, well I cannot find a word that exceeds impressive as far as I feel it.
JJ
Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night @ The Museum of Modern Art in NY City



Letters from Vincent to Theo about art
I am reminded of Vincent Van Gogh whenever I think of how wrong the establishment can be about someones art. Vincent knew this to be true and wrote about it in letters to his brother several years before his suicide. In one such letter to his brother Theo, written 07-31-1882, Vincent wrote, "As to the money value of my work, I do not pretend to anything less than it would greatly astonish me if in time my work did not become just as salable as that of others. Of course I cannot tell whether that will happen now or later, but I think the surest way, which cannot fail, is to work from nature faithfully and energetically. Sooner or later feeling and love for nature meet with a response from people who are interested in art. It is an artists duty to be entirely absorbed by nature and to use all his intelligence to express sentiment in his work so that it becomes intelligible to other people. In my opinion working for the market is not exactly the right way; on the contrary, it means fooling the art lovers. The true painters have not done this; the sympathy they eventually received was a result of their sincerity. That is all I know about it, and I don't think I need to know more."
This and the following letter are from a book of Vincent's letters translated by W.H.Auden called "Van Gogh: A Self Portrait" I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in Van Gogh's art or life. It is an eye opening experience into the mind of a great artist and a misunderstood man. He was not some wacko who cut off part of his ear and shot himself to death after going insane. He was a deeply caring man. He was a genius who painted so far over the heads of the so-called experts that they could not see his vision and would not even show his paintings in art exhibitions. How ironic that his paintings now sell for much more than any other artist who has ever painted ($82.5 Million for The Portrait of Dr.Gachet and $71.5 Million for his last Self-Portrait) when only a couple of them sold while he was alive. If not for Theo saving the paintings and letters Vincent sent him, we might never have known this man and and his tender heart.

In a letter less than two weeks earlier, written from July 19-23,1882, Vincent wrote to Theo, "I will go out and work in the open air, even if it should cause my illness to return. I cannot keep from working any longer. Art is jealous, she does not want us to choose illness in preference to her, so I do what she wishes. Therefore I hope that within a short time you will receive a few pretty good new drawings. People like me must not be ill, so to speak. I want you to undestand clearly my conception of art. One must work long and hard to grasp the essence. What I want and aim at is confoundedly difficult, and yet I do not think I aim too high. I want to do drawings which touch some people." "There is at least something straight from my own heart. In either figure or landscape I should wish to express, not sentimental melancholy, but serious sorrow. In short, I want to progress so far that people will say of my work, he feels deeply, he feels tenderly, notwithstanding my so-called roughness, perhaps even because of it. It seems pretentious to talk this way now, but this is the reason why I want to push on with all my strength. What am I in most people's eyes? A nonentity, or an eccentric and disagreeable man - somebody who has no position in society and never will have, in short, the lowest of low. Very well, even if this were true, then I should want my work to show what is in the heart of such an eccentric, of such a nobody. This is my ambition, which is, in spite of everything, founded less on anger than on love, more on serenity than on passion. It is true that I am often in the greatest misery, but still there is a calm pure harmony and music inside me." "Art demands persistant work, work in spite of everything, and continuous obsevation. By persistant, I mean not only continuous work, but also not giving up your opinion at the bidding of such and such a person."

In 1888 Vincent wrote, "I let myself go, paint what I see and how I feel, and damn the rules!"



Perfectionist McCartney Not Content to 'Let It Be'
LONDON (Reuters) -
Pop legend Paul McCartney was so furious about changes a top producer made to one of his hit songs that he sent a scathing rebuke to his lawyer that no one should ever be allowed to tamper with his music again.
In 30-year-old correspondence released by the British public record office, the former Beatle ended a letter to lawyer Allen Klein with "don't ever do it again" after Klein appointed superstar pop producer Phil Spector to work on "The Long and Winding Road," the group's last number one hit in America.
"In future no one will be allowed to add or subtract from a recording of one of my songs without my permission," McCartney said in the letter, the Guardian newspaper reported on Saturday.
Spector, whose name will forever be associated with a string of catchy pop singles in the 1950s and 1960s, worked on the Beatles' "Let It Be" album which featured "The Long and Winding Road."
McCartney said he hated the string accompaniment Spector put on the single.



Poetry Copyright

If you write poetry, you should protect yourself by getting the copyright from the Library of Congress website. The link to FL106 below, right, is the form you need with instructions on how to do this and how much the fee is. When I sent my collection, it was $35 for all of them in one complete volume. It's a heck of a lot easier than getting published....
 
All works Copyright © JF Johnson
US Copyright Office Registration
TXu1-162-978
 
You may also be interested in "Print On Demand" publishing. This is a step up from "Vanity" Publishing. Although you have to pay for set up costs, the books are only printed when they are ordered and can be delivered directly to the customer after they pay on-line, or you can order them yourself at a discount and re-sell them at open mic readings or wherever you wish. You will get royalties for books sold through them or through booksellers and their websites. It is not cheap, but your book does become available through bookstores and on-line book wharehouses such as Amazon.com. This also makes it possible to go to major book sellers like Barnes & Noble, Borders and others, or to their websites and order your book of poetry. Click the link to Xlibris below for more info.

Favorite URLs
Other pages on my web site.

Favorite URLs
My friends' home pages, & favorite URLs.

A Magical Mystery Trip - Ro-Ro Rows Her Boat, Walls & Bridges

Sleep, He Who Laughs Last & The Need To Be Free/The Desire To Fly - Poems for Mother Nature

The Great Unknown, A Question Of Faith & Have You Heard The Word? - Poems about God, Me and Faith

The Family Way & Quarter Life Crisis - Poems about Family distress

Self Portrait, Blind To The Me Others See, Two Faced & Constantly Changing - Poems of the inner me

Segregation, Separation & Walls And Bridges - Stop Hate! My Poems on Prejudice & Pride

Graduation Speech - NYS OCFS Parker Training Academy 12/99

Where Are You Going? I've Seen Where You've Been!, Room For Rent? Room For Free & I Wish I Wasn't Me - Poems of Anger & Blame

If Closets Could Talk, On Our Way Home - More of my poems of Friends And Friendships lost

Back To The Egg - Poems about Suicidal Contemplation

Unspoken Thirst, Daylight's Darkness & Mistaken Identity - Three more poems I wrote about love

At The End Of Every Rainbow & Rainbows In The Night Sky - A couple other poems I wrote about Love and Rainbows

What Are We Waiting For?, The Unvieling & On The Outside - A few love songs

Future Link - More Pages coming soon

Future Link - More Pages coming soon

Chapter 1 - Main Bio page

Index Page - Index of all pages on this sight



Reuters - Link to above McCartney story

Reuters - Yahoo - Link to above McCartney story via Yahoo daily news



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My Poetry library @ Pathetic.Org Member

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Save A Starving Poet - Donate to a Poet in need


My Poetry library @ Pathetic.Org Member

The Van Gogh Gallery - All of Vincent's art and many of his letters and biography are here.

Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night @ MoMA - The Museum of Modern Art in NY City where Starry Night is on display

The Beatles 1 - The official Beatles website. This is the 1

The Beatles on Abby Road - This is the Abby Road official website. I think

Paul McCartney - Wingspan official website

The Midi file playing on this page is
"You Never Give Me Your Money" by
Paul McCartney & John Lennon.
Copyright 1969
Original Beatles recording can be found on the EMI - Apple Records album/cd "Abbey Road".
Friends of the Earth - US - Friends of the Earth - US

Friends of the Earth - International - Friends of the Earth International homepage

Friends of the Earth - UK - Friends of the Earth England, Wales and Northern Ireland

Higher Ground For Humanity - Jewel Kilcher Organization

Jewel's Official Website - Songwriter, Poet & Musician Jewel Kilcher's Website

Soul City Cafe - Jewel Kilcher Organization for new music artists

Library of Congress - Copyright formtxi

Library of Congress - Copyright circ01

Library of Congress - Copyright fl106

All works Copyright © JF Johnson
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www.wga.org - registration

WritersWeekly.com Warnings Report - Reports about publications who have refused to pay writers money owed to them & publications with unfair contract terms

WritersWeekly.com Warnings Report - Complaints about Poetry.com. Avoid this rip-off psudo publisher at all costs.

WindPub.org - Serious poets consider the International Library of Poetry contests and their affiliated organizations to be unethical, and their free poetry contests a scam designed for no other purpose than to prey upon trusting and unwary amateur poets by relieving them of their money.

WindPub.org - Literary Contest Caution - These unscrupulous organizations and individuals exist solely to get into your wallet through their so-called writing or poetry contests.

Absolute Write - Scamming Companies and People To Avoid - PREDITORS AND EDITORS

print on demand publishing Xlibris - Print On Demand Publishing - everything you need to publish and sell your book. I personally know a poet who has used this service and have purchased his book. They are for real, can be trusted and produce a good quality book. JJ


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All works Copyright © JF Johnson
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pathetic.org member

I must disagree with a statement I read in an introduction of one of our community members at Pathetic.org:
She wrote: "Poetry is nothing more than an observation of surroundings broken up (sometimes) into stanzas."
For me, poetry is much more. It is the reflection of emotions one feels when observing the surroundings. Not only that, but even more importantly what is inside of us as well. Poetry is about expressing ones feelings. Simply making observations on the surroundings is what reporters are supposed to do. And they can't even get that right, always injecting their bias and expressing their feelings, rather than allowing us to decide for ourselves based on the facts. Poets are not reporters, we are not supposed to merely pass the facts along to others. Our expression of the passion we feel for what we observe is what sets us apart from journalists.

I have offered my philosophy of poetry many times before and the one common thread, no matter how I may word it, is feelings. It mystifies me how anyone can write what they consider poetry without including their feelings. Poetry is all about expressing feelings and yet when people attempt to define it, they often leave out that one vital component. It as if they are afraid to admit they are expressing their own feelings. I can't imagine trying so hard to hide what is in my heart. Rather I open mine and allow whatever is there to come flooding forth into my mind where I can guide them into words for others to read and perhaps relate to. And even for those who may not be able to relate to my feelings, they may still be able to understand why I feel the way I do about the things I write about.


Another member of Pathetic.org was debating not to write poetry which expressed feelings of self-pity. He wrote a list of virtues of poetry which I disagreed with strongly and decided to write my own list of what poetry is to me, as opposed to what it is not. Of course poetry can be many things to many people but here are the guidlines I believe in and use when I write.

Virtues of Poetry:

1: The Poem reflects the true feelings of the writer. Anything written to manipulate others with false words or feelings is what I wrote "Artificial Artists" about many years ago. The only rule of poetry, as far as I'm concerned, is to write from the heart. Never mind about the negative point of view where you write about what poetry is not or you don't like about some one elses poems. Write about the feelings in your heart, whatever they may be. If they are feelings of self-pity, so be it. The only sin of writing poetry is to not express your true feelings. I once had a conversation with my "psychologist" brother while I was in college in which he said to me,
"Joe, you define yourself by what you oppose, not by what you are."
He was right and I wrote a poem about it called "Self-Portrait". Stop looking for what you are not and meditate on everything you are.

2: It is written in an understanable way.

3: If writing in a pre-defined style, stick to the rules of that style, or call it something else. (ie: Abecedarian, Acrostic, Anagram, Ballad, Cinquain, Free Verse, Ghazal, Haiku, Senryu, Tanka, Limerick, Pantoum, Prose, Sestina, Song/Lyric, Sonnet, Terza Rima, Villanelle.) In many of these styles there are pre-defined patterns that must be followed. There seems to be a movement to drift away from those patterns. It seems to me that if you are not following those patterns, you are no longer writing in that style and need to call it something else, perhaps free verse....

4: When using imagery, try to invoke images that readers can commonly conjur in their minds. The more vivid the better, but accuracy of the image is imperative.

5: Flow of the words and lines. There's almost nothing as painful as tripping and banging your knees on the cement. And so with poetry, tripping over lines in a stanza is mentally painful. Rhythem in a poem is just as important as rhythem in a song.

6: Be creative. Depending on the subject matter, imagination can be a very powerful tool. That doesn't mean to simply make things up that never happened, but to tell a story about something that did happen in an interesting and out of the ordinary way. Be mysterious without being obscure.

7: Be original. Write in your own words.
I'm not just talking about plagerism, I mean, don't use platitudes. For example, Paul Simon's "50 Ways To Leave Your Lover" in which he proceeds to use a series of ridiculous cliches to make his point. Trite sayings make me wanna puke! Trying to compress the definition of love into a quaint little paragraph is impossible. But to relate it to something seeminly unrelated, to make brief analogies to other things we have a common reference to in life, within a poem, is something I enjoy doing. That is not a sin, it displays your ability to see the same thing on more than one level. One of the things that angers me about music nowadays is when a song says "Everybody's" doing something, or "We All" and it just ain't so! And also those songs that name cities just so they can sell more records in a particular market. How many times have you heard Detroit, LA, New York, London, Paris and various other places for absolutely no other reason than to be able to shout it out when they play a concert in that city. Then the crowd goes crazy when their town is named. WoopDeeDoo!

But now this has degenerated into describing what poetry should be with phrases of what it should not be.... It's an easy trap to fall into.

JJ