Out of context

The trouble with posting up other poets’ poems is that they lack context.

You can read a given Bukowski poem and think “My God he was vile”, or another and be swamped by his humanity and insight. It’s dangerous to cut and paste. (I’ll do it anyway, but it has its limitations).

All I can ask of anyone is that they tell me what they feel, as that has validity. As soon as we start to object to contradiction and conflict in each other, we are either expecting what people feel to be immutable (unrealistic), or seeking to censor ourselves and others.

There is a recurrent meme on Social Media which runs along the lines of “The best friends are those you don’t see for years but when you do it’s like you never were apart”. Horse-shit. Anyone can be nice if you only see them an hour per year. That’s way too easy. You need to know just how disagreeable someone is before it counts, and that takes time.

Blogging too carries the risk that a reader can pick and choose what they do and don’t like rather than taking the whole. Individual posts can be taken out of context. Yesterday I postulated that there were sound reasons why I am better off alone. If you honestly think I’ll be satisfied to eke out my days in an empty bed then you have not understood one jot. The more I write, the less I know – and even that is probably inadequately formed.


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