|Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 9, 2018 at 5:05 AM|
Poets and intellectuals
A big white screen I look at it and type a few words,
utter banalities about a washing machine, the brain has nowhere to go
but to think of the near things.
There was a time when I sat on top of a mountain feet dangling high
above ground when I thought if I tried could fly; everything was possible
now I’m dead inside. Death starts when the mind goes numb
and you forget your childhood, was I a Child? I don`t know wish I was
a giraffe and could see life from a lofty height.
The TV bores me, I was never the poet I wanted to be I don`t want
tomorrow to happen it is too difficult to write anything sensible.
The thing is to break new ground plough pristine earth and produce
something that doesn’t look like carrots.
But up from the earth sprout old clichés written over and over again
by respected intellectuals and famous poets, except for Oscar Wilde
they are just boring old bastards dressing up their ordinariness in
words we had to look up the dictionary to understand, but it is still trite.
But their reputation a great thinker follows them into perpetuity.