from: The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by dogfood420, Jan 20, 2005.

  1. dogfood420

    dogfood420 Member

    Title: Advice to a Young Writer

    All piffle & twaddle-influence of Bottom Dog man.
    For real "decadents" read Huysmans & other french authors.
    Diarrhea of words-stew of classic allusions.
    Fuck Artemis et alia!
    Don't put intellect in your prick!
    Write honestly even if poorly.
    Humor is weak-immature.
    Try drugs and compare two kinds of writing.
    Try using only Anglo-Saxon words.
    Throw your dictionary away!
    Don't mix realism with poetics!
    If you can't make words fuck, don't masturbate them!
    When you speak of **** put hair on it!
    Try to forget everything you learned in college.
    Try talking like an ignoramus-or an Igaroti.
    Read, for emetic, "Palm Wine Drinkard."
    You will learn to write only when you stop trying to write.
    A line without effort is worth a chapter of push and pull.
    First ask yourself if you have anything to say.
    Don't draw the pen unless you are ready for the kill!
    If you don't get rid of the Classics you'll die of constipation.
    Never show any one what you're written until a year or two later.
    Use the axe to your 1st draft and not the fine comb.
    The latter is for the lice!!!

    Henry Miller
     
  2. dogfood420

    dogfood420 Member

    Ode to a Tijuana Toilet
    (or the Famous Fuck You Prosaic Principle)

    Portrait of Jim & naked ass
    in the mirror (from backstage
    it issaid: IT IS "MORBID!"
    Is it MORIBUND it is asked,
    Oh Great Crusty bowel of no end
    SHOWING HIS BALLS TO THE WORLD
    Is it Sebastian
    yanking arrows out of his butt
    Or the brave matador's shadow
    the last moment in the/mirror
    IS IT THE FATHER
    who cries it is the "MORBID SON"
    THE ANSWER ARRIVES:
    Fuck dad, dear dad, fuck you.
    The lonely man who can't
    get out
    from the back of the mirror
    Great puppet of the Other
    O breathing life
    to the dead on the sand
    Dried sea weed that speaks
    singing Italian Songs
    on Patchen Place
    to the caged girl
    The body in a tin can
    empty of the soul
    The crow is crowing
    and two becomes one
    THE END
    The pen is set aside,
    the moving finger wrote
    and now he takes a shit.

    James Dean
    Written in early 1955
     
  3. kidder

    kidder Member

    Henry Miller never could write and he was even a poor pornographer. I'll be damned if I'll ever take his advice!....
     

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