About Poetry and proper form..... And much more....
Hi Bob,
I am VERY glad you asked.
You say you want to know what kind of game, one can play with a ball and a rose?
The game is called "Ballarosa". (name invented right now, as I allow my stream of consciousness to take over the writing here).
All you need is a rose and a ball.
Any ball will do......
And any color rose will do,....... as long as it has a nice fragrance.
The fragrance is the key here.
Because the sense of smell, tends to carry us, into different realms instantaneously.
Have you ever noticed how, when walking down a street, you can be transported immediately, into another time and place? just by smelling a scent that carries a memory for you?
It is magical, and it helps me remember, how NOT physical, our existence here on earth, really is.
Yes, we do spend much time worrying about our bodies, about providing and protecting them.
But we actually spend MOST of our time in our minds.
We get carried away with thoughts, with feelings, with memories... With ideas, with music, with art...... With poetry.....
With worries, with anger with concerns, with dreams, with love,......
Actually, to be honest here, we almost spend NO time in our bodies at all.
If we did, nobody will be fat,........ just for starter.
Because the body DOES tell you, when it is FULL.
But we NEVER listen, and we RARELY spend any time in our bodies anyway.
So, back to the game, the Ballarosa game.
You throw the ball to the next player, and when she/ he catches it, it is their turn to smell the roses and to tell a story.
It is best to use REAL stories, taken from one's life and past, or heart.
But if you are NOT ready, any story will do.
You tell / share a story, and throw the ball back.
The next to catch it, must stop, smell the roses, and tell HER story.
The game goes on in a circle, until we are all intimate friends.
Until we all know one another stories,.....
until nobody is a stranger,
until we all understand where the other is coming from....
Until....
We all finally...... Dare I say it?
Yes, why not?
We all finally LOVE and UNDERSTAND one another.
You see, darling, you say that to love ALL, is to love NONE.
I may be wrong here, but what I am hearing, is that love must be selective.
That it is only right to love the SPECIAL ONES.
The ones that are WORTHY of love.
Now, allow me to pose a question to you darling.
Will you love your child, If he was born mute, and deaf or autistic and cannot communicate with you AT ALL? If he cannot be "worthy" and earn your love?
Now, I can see you wrinkling your forehead.....
You are thinking to yourself: "This girl does not play fair AT ALL! Nobody talks about that. I was not thinking that........OF COURSE I will love my child, in any case..... "
So tell me dear, why not love your neighbor the same way?
Why not love a sister, a brother, a friend?
A clerk in the store? The guy who washed your car?
In fact, where do you stop loving?
After all, strangers are just friends and lovers, you have not connected with YET.
Your beautiful wife, was a stranger to you once.
Now you love her dearly. (or the best you can..... Still holding back on Universal love....)
I do not mean to be aggressive here.
With "pushing" my ideas.... Not trying to impose my way of thinking.... I cherish our dialog.
I find your letters enriching.
in fact, I want to say it here:
Thank you for your wonderful letters!
Your choice of words are deep and intelligent and your point of views are clear and well thought.
The reason we are still conversing, is because I have great respect for you and sense that you are a powerful soul and that your outer shell, is actually quite charming and I find great fun in getting to know you better.
Yes, Bob, I DO ENJOY YOU.
I must admit that I often relate to much of what you are saying also.
I too, find much of the poetry to be boring.
And I agree with you about some Jazz.
I fully and truly do.
To tell you the truth, most writers and poets think like you.
They love rhymes and a good form.
They find beauty in the structure, and they adore clever.....
Yes, MANY poets LOVE a good poem......., but not me.
I like poets who dare to go DEEPER into their souls.
I care more for the message... For the depth, for the impact...
For the CHANGE... For the raising of consciousness....
I am HUNGRY and eager for something NEW.
Yes, the poem that I wrote to you, sucks!
It lacks structure AND rhyme....., I do not care for both
I actually wrote more than what I shared with you...
But you are so well spoken, so proper... So wise,....
That I did not share it all with you.
I think I will do so now.
If this will be the last time I will hear from you, because of the crude words I use, know that I adored our short conversation and I think that you are a fabulous man.
A poem about sharing on FB
You are always so busy
What are you trying to change?
No time for play
No time for friends
No time for love
What are you trying to build here my love?
You call it a waste of time...
You say it is an addiction...
Darling,
What are you addicted to?
Reading what's on people's minds?
You say sometimes you are playful,
But often you are NOT,
You are sarcastic, maybe even sad...
Have you read recently
How many people are crying out loud?
There was a time you knew how to listen..
But the artists you hung around with, were lost...
And you were the only one who were not.
NYC's Soho was young....
And you did not even DREAM
Of retirement then.
I bet you never told yourself
Such lies,
That life begins AFTER
Retirement...
That playing outdoors,
Is a waste of time.
And here is a girl,
And she is standing by your window
With a ball and a rose
And you say:
"Damn, it girl,
I have no perceived need
for group consciousness raising....
You are alone girl...
Go fly.....
And, by the way girl,
I was NEVER really high..."
Now, the part below, I did not send to you,
but I did write it at the same time.....
Bob darling,
You say this poem does not rhyme...
You say it has a lousy form....
You say it got a broken style....
I say:
Fuck form
Fuck rhyme
Fuck poetic style
I am NOT writing poetry,
So the world will be at MY feet....
I am writing poetry,
So I can wake the world up....
And suck its dick...
Tali
I am VERY glad you asked.
You say you want to know what kind of game, one can play with a ball and a rose?
The game is called "Ballarosa". (name invented right now, as I allow my stream of consciousness to take over the writing here).
All you need is a rose and a ball.
Any ball will do......
And any color rose will do,....... as long as it has a nice fragrance.
The fragrance is the key here.
Because the sense of smell, tends to carry us, into different realms instantaneously.
Have you ever noticed how, when walking down a street, you can be transported immediately, into another time and place? just by smelling a scent that carries a memory for you?
It is magical, and it helps me remember, how NOT physical, our existence here on earth, really is.
Yes, we do spend much time worrying about our bodies, about providing and protecting them.
But we actually spend MOST of our time in our minds.
We get carried away with thoughts, with feelings, with memories... With ideas, with music, with art...... With poetry.....
With worries, with anger with concerns, with dreams, with love,......
Actually, to be honest here, we almost spend NO time in our bodies at all.
If we did, nobody will be fat,........ just for starter.
Because the body DOES tell you, when it is FULL.
But we NEVER listen, and we RARELY spend any time in our bodies anyway.
So, back to the game, the Ballarosa game.
You throw the ball to the next player, and when she/ he catches it, it is their turn to smell the roses and to tell a story.
It is best to use REAL stories, taken from one's life and past, or heart.
But if you are NOT ready, any story will do.
You tell / share a story, and throw the ball back.
The next to catch it, must stop, smell the roses, and tell HER story.
The game goes on in a circle, until we are all intimate friends.
Until we all know one another stories,.....
until nobody is a stranger,
until we all understand where the other is coming from....
Until....
We all finally...... Dare I say it?
Yes, why not?
We all finally LOVE and UNDERSTAND one another.
You see, darling, you say that to love ALL, is to love NONE.
I may be wrong here, but what I am hearing, is that love must be selective.
That it is only right to love the SPECIAL ONES.
The ones that are WORTHY of love.
Now, allow me to pose a question to you darling.
Will you love your child, If he was born mute, and deaf or autistic and cannot communicate with you AT ALL? If he cannot be "worthy" and earn your love?
Now, I can see you wrinkling your forehead.....
You are thinking to yourself: "This girl does not play fair AT ALL! Nobody talks about that. I was not thinking that........OF COURSE I will love my child, in any case..... "
So tell me dear, why not love your neighbor the same way?
Why not love a sister, a brother, a friend?
A clerk in the store? The guy who washed your car?
In fact, where do you stop loving?
After all, strangers are just friends and lovers, you have not connected with YET.
Your beautiful wife, was a stranger to you once.
Now you love her dearly. (or the best you can..... Still holding back on Universal love....)
I do not mean to be aggressive here.
With "pushing" my ideas.... Not trying to impose my way of thinking.... I cherish our dialog.
I find your letters enriching.
in fact, I want to say it here:
Thank you for your wonderful letters!
Your choice of words are deep and intelligent and your point of views are clear and well thought.
The reason we are still conversing, is because I have great respect for you and sense that you are a powerful soul and that your outer shell, is actually quite charming and I find great fun in getting to know you better.
Yes, Bob, I DO ENJOY YOU.
I must admit that I often relate to much of what you are saying also.
I too, find much of the poetry to be boring.
And I agree with you about some Jazz.
I fully and truly do.
To tell you the truth, most writers and poets think like you.
They love rhymes and a good form.
They find beauty in the structure, and they adore clever.....
Yes, MANY poets LOVE a good poem......., but not me.
I like poets who dare to go DEEPER into their souls.
I care more for the message... For the depth, for the impact...
For the CHANGE... For the raising of consciousness....
I am HUNGRY and eager for something NEW.
Yes, the poem that I wrote to you, sucks!
It lacks structure AND rhyme....., I do not care for both
I actually wrote more than what I shared with you...
But you are so well spoken, so proper... So wise,....
That I did not share it all with you.
I think I will do so now.
If this will be the last time I will hear from you, because of the crude words I use, know that I adored our short conversation and I think that you are a fabulous man.
A poem about sharing on FB
You are always so busy
What are you trying to change?
No time for play
No time for friends
No time for love
What are you trying to build here my love?
You call it a waste of time...
You say it is an addiction...
Darling,
What are you addicted to?
Reading what's on people's minds?
You say sometimes you are playful,
But often you are NOT,
You are sarcastic, maybe even sad...
Have you read recently
How many people are crying out loud?
There was a time you knew how to listen..
But the artists you hung around with, were lost...
And you were the only one who were not.
NYC's Soho was young....
And you did not even DREAM
Of retirement then.
I bet you never told yourself
Such lies,
That life begins AFTER
Retirement...
That playing outdoors,
Is a waste of time.
And here is a girl,
And she is standing by your window
With a ball and a rose
And you say:
"Damn, it girl,
I have no perceived need
for group consciousness raising....
You are alone girl...
Go fly.....
And, by the way girl,
I was NEVER really high..."
Now, the part below, I did not send to you,
but I did write it at the same time.....
Bob darling,
You say this poem does not rhyme...
You say it has a lousy form....
You say it got a broken style....
I say:
Fuck form
Fuck rhyme
Fuck poetic style
I am NOT writing poetry,
So the world will be at MY feet....
I am writing poetry,
So I can wake the world up....
And suck its dick...
Tali
