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un_fi_niche_duh's Journal

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First of all, in order for collaboration and experimentation to be effective we must remember a few rules. (then promptly break them)


1. Fuck Poetry.

2. Cook Her breakfast in the morning. (hint: she likes green eggs and scrambled hamtooth)

2. The point of teamwork isn't to impress your potential collaborator by sliding a fully finished idea across the conference-room table. It's about how 1+1=3. Or as the case may be: 1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+ 1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+

3. As you can see, the only prerequisite for joining this forum is a firm grasp of the FOIL method.

3. Yes there can be two 2's. Just like there can be three 3's but then only one of all the other number, unless Eye change my mind.

3. The future of poetry is in our beaks (no pressure). This forum is for those of us who believe in the untapped potential of the online medium as the future of poetry.

4. In previous (and present) generations of poetry, the Word was alive in the creator's mind, but grew lifeless and dead once it reached the page. Much of this is due to the medium of the printed word which has been the standard until... dare we say Now?

4. In the life span of poetic history, we are truly at the dawn of a new age (*vomit*). If we don't put our collective souls (shit, why did a shitty pop-grunge band have to go out and ruin that term? Why didn't some poet get that copyrighted?)together RIGHT NOW we will be at the mercy of someone ELSE'S paradigm ("why didn't Eye think of that?" everyone will be scratching their heads) to push the boundaries of where poetry, or rather our open mind/souls-- our collective creative unconscious-- (whatever you call it-- let me know if you have a better term Eye'm always looking) can take us.

5. Since this new paradigm, (rooted in--but not created by-- this new online medium) obviously hasn't Happened (with a capital H) yet, why don't we be the ones to do it? Why not? I dare you to join un-fi-niche-duh (a.k.a un-publ-iche-duh).

6. The beauty of it is: no one of us can do it alone. Eventually we will be forced to think as one mind/soul. Our collective poem becomes it's own entity: a living, breathing creature rising up out of the ashes of yesterday's stale metaphors. It(not us) will burn the poetic tradition down to build up a new language house to dwell in for a while until it is time to burn down again.

7. Nothing's sacred.

8. You don't really believe that, do you?

7. Leave your publication ready material at the door. There is a place for it, but it's not here. (Eye might be able to show you where it is if you don't know) But... in order to advance, we must leave behind the dream of translating this back to the cold lifeless page. Completely erase that utilitarian goal: creation is a means and an end in itself. Utility it is the death of innovation and truth. Because the written lifeless dead page is the wave of the present, and how soon the wave of the present washes out with the meatloaf stains.

8. Do you smell that?

8. Smell what?

9. THAT.

9. Oh, THAT. That's just the stench of moldy fruitbaskets. (Cezanne, feel free to get out your paintbrush just dont forget to capture the wing motion of fruit flies in flight).

10. We are online poets, we are the wave of the future (and what better way to break the creative ice than with a tired cliche like that?)


what stops us from experiment with:
*lj-tags (see below)
*hyperlinks (choose your own adventure-style)
*filling each other's blanks, sentences, dreams, potholes, bowls, stomachs, ect.
*free association
*no annual fee low apr for one full year association
*im subconscious meditative collaborations transcribed
*much, much more (suggestions appreciated)

So now that we've placed the stakes as high as they can go (the future of poetry) let's remember why we're doing that. Not to be intentionally intimidating, but rather because "you learn a lot more about poker when you play for money and not for matchsticks."

And at the risk of throwing too much on your plate we'll leave you with a quote by this one poet:

"The poem is never finished, just abandoned."


lj tags for your experi-mental convenience:

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