“Wheat Kings” Sundown in the Paris of the prairiesWheat Kings have all their treasures buriedAll you hear are the rusty breezesPushing around the weather vane Jesus In a Zippo lighter you see the killer’s faceMaybe it’s someone standing in the killers placeTwenty Years for nothing well that’s nothing newBesides no one is interested in something you didn’t doWheat Kings and pretty things,Lets just see what the morning brings There’s a dream he dreams where the high school is dead and starkIt’s a museum and we’re all locked up and after dark up in it and after darkWhere the walls are lined all yellow gray and sinisterHung with pictures of our parents prime ministersWheat Kings and pretty things,Lets just see what the tomorrow brings Late breaking story on the CBC,A nation whispers “we always know he’d go free”They add “you can’t be fond of living in the past,Cause if you are then there is no way you are going to last”Wheat Kings and pretty things,Lets just see what the morning bringsWheat Kings and pretty things,
Thats what tomorrow brings
If you read this out loud as a poem (that’s what I like to do) – believe it or not. It sounds like a poem. Does that sound weird? What I mean is – read it as a poem and feel the rhythm. It is a beautiful song but it is also a poem. And it’s a tragic beautiful poem. Most likely because we know its history – the authentic story behind the poem. Man I love this stuff! I really do. Artistic expression, creative energy, poetry. I believe we need it to survive. And I think there are many ways of realizing your needs. Maybe you can even find poetry in Tv commercials or music videos – I don’t know. That’s not my scene, but maybe it’s yours. Anita said to me “there is value in everything” when we we talking about different film genres. Well there must be value in all types of poetry as well. What’s your scene? What inspires you? What makes you laugh, or cry? Do you dare open up? Find your inner poet man! 
Hey Sheri,
I love the kinds of statements you make when looking at poetry, I can tell you are very passionate – ” artistic expression, creative energy, poetry… we need it to survive.” I believe like Anita that yes, we can find “value in everything” but I don’t think there is poetry in your jar of peanut butter, or in the cellophane that wraps and stores your lunch. I think poetry is in how we view our surroundings, so perhaps that peanut butter could in fact be poetry, it just isn’t poetry without wording it as such, and therefore, as viewing it in a particular way to seem as such (likewise of course with the cellophane – though that stuff just seems like a menace to me, gets all stuck together and such!).
My scene? I’m deeply devoted to the notion that poetry is created never twice, that it means something to everyone and that the artists on my ipod are probably just as poetic as Charles Bukowski or Sylvia Plath but spoke their words differently. I’m inspired by the deep conviction to always word things in a way no one ever has before or perhaps in a way that didn’t stand out as much when spoken or written before (I always find myself entertaining those around me as I phrase things in the most peculiar of ways at the perfect time to bring out a laugh or an appropriate smirk). Therefore, as a poet, I sit at my desk for hours obsessing over just how much I should alliterate in my sentence, because surely that has to be one of my favourite ways to toy around with words (other than rhyming, though I have only just recently begun to really devote myself to that style). As far as specific inspiration goes, as I had mentioned before, I’m a big fan of Bukowski because he is this old man now who can write poetry about sitting around in his apartment watching boxing on his television if he wanted, and I am also a diehard, faithful reader of Sylvia Plath because her writing is the most beautiful, tormented work I’ve ever read (I can give her credit as being my favourite poet for certain). I think the appeal with Plath is that her life wasn’t that awful, but her words made it seem as such (without seeming fake, or flawed, or mellow-dramatic in her words – simply raw and real and unsettling). I also enjoy Ted Hughes (I probably just like to hear the other side of things – the poet-ex-husband of Sylvia Plath has probably got some interesting things to say about his life and hers). I think I could laugh or cry dependent on my mood in terms of poetry. I was reading this book of poetry by Sylvia Legris and I wasn’t sure what to make of it (there seemed to be a lot of birds involved) so to me it seemed kind of funny at the time, but perhaps in a different state of mind I might have found it dark or disturbing even.
So thats probably alot to discuss in a mere comment, but I hope you’ll check out what I have to say in my blog.
Sincerely,
Nicole