A NEW SCARRIET POEM BY THE EDITORS

My Thoughts

If you want to read my thoughts
I will tell you my thoughts
Walk beside you, their queen.
We long for thoughts, yet thoughts
Are common, and they are never seen!
When in love, we want to read the thoughts
Of our beloved, hoping that nothing mean
Is there; so I must tell you, my thoughts
Are mild, and bend to you, my queen.
When I detected the sun
First coloring the windows this morning,
I thought, “It is you!”
This is one of my thoughts I wish that you had seen.

49 Comments

  1. Paul said,

    March 7, 2012 at 4:57 pm

    JOSHUA CLOVER IS FOETRY. of course, the person who is the prime recipient of the glories of foetryy – the chosen one of jorie graham – as the greatest poet EVAR> joshua clover/ aka monday love…MIDDLE CLASS SNOB – hater of “art” – lover of NO ONE – that’s who runs the world – thye’re on both sides CORRUPTION AND FRAUD – oh but we should HATE adorno or anyone who points this out

    but not only playing both sides and corrupting poetry – attempting to shape public opinion as a troll on lit sites everywhere for over a decade – but also an active in politics trying to make anarchy RIGHT WING and counter-revolutionary -sexist racist and hahahahah CLASSIST!@ yeah Post-ananrchy !!!

    oh, the good work you have done, son!!! yeah, fuck adorno!!!

  2. Paul said,

    March 7, 2012 at 5:02 pm

    don’t get so mad about my opinion, son. it is based on UNDERSTANDING…

    i tried to understand your little autistic world. i did. i loved you! evn though you are a fraud!!! i was trying to reform you bc i loved you…true!!!!! i’ve driven myself insane!!! true!!!!

  3. Paul said,

    March 7, 2012 at 5:04 pm

    let the poets be merely SYMPATHY and not LOVE…let them… oh just leave them to be….

  4. Paul said,

    March 7, 2012 at 5:07 pm

    leave the poets yes, leave to to appear, not be…don’t love them.. don’t love them

  5. Paul said,

    March 7, 2012 at 5:16 pm

    leave them to gaming on the internet!! leave them to their gaming. leave them to their IDF strategies….mock any love, spit on loyalty, freindship, fidelty, spit on anyone who CARES about!!! anything!!!! anything at all!!! troll them to death – let UGLINESS and CORRUPTION REIGN…let it reign all hail THE DRUIDS

  6. thomasbrady said,

    March 7, 2012 at 8:20 pm

    Paul,

    You think I am Joshua Clover?

    You don’t like that I call Anarchy right wing? You want it to be left wing?

    Is that what you are saying?

    Why don’t you put together an essay and we’ll publish it on Scarriet. I want a nice, clear overview of what you are thinking here…

    Tom

  7. Des said,

    March 7, 2012 at 11:52 pm

    Watch the full documentary shot over ten ten years, following a feud and lifting the lid on the never before seen world of Irish Traveller barenuckle boxing bouts, used to settle grudges and keep the commnunity peace, but which is now spiralling out of control in Ireland.

  8. Des said,

    March 7, 2012 at 11:58 pm

    Arghh, bast%$^ f*&^ wit tosser it’s not the full documentary. It was on youtube the other month, a riveting 80 minute film.

  9. March 8, 2012 at 12:49 am

    The film’s called Knuckle, and I thank you—
    I’ve added it to my Netflix queue:

    http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1606259/

    Here’s a first-world problem,
    Nonetheless it stings true:
    I can’t put more than 500
    In my Netflix queue.

  10. thomasbrady said,

    March 8, 2012 at 2:59 pm

    “Knuckle” reminds me of Jerry Springer…

    No thanks.

  11. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 3:36 pm

    who keeps creating the jerry springer situation? desmond.

  12. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 3:42 pm

    desmond has the taste and class of jerry springer. desmond’s books are fancy jerry springer shows. but then desmond sits back (after months elsewhere of bragging about “toys” and so on) and passes judgment from behind his screen…

  13. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 3:54 pm

    Judge thyself, Dez. I don’t want to have a “feud” with you and I never did.
    Years ago I met your friend JS from Los Angeles who told me you said I was your “nemesis” and we were “feuding” – this was WAY before I was even aware of this! You were simply a person I didn’t like and respect, and really it would have been great to leave it at that.

    But everyone else wanted to “get involved”! I retained my “dignity” for long enough (for which I was mocked as well). I’ve broken. You’ve made me as ugly as you.

  14. thomasbrady said,

    March 8, 2012 at 4:03 pm

    Oh good. Scarriet will host ‘Knuckle’ right here…

  15. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 4:05 pm

    You hosted ‘Knuckle’ already…

  16. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 4:09 pm

    I think you even funded and produced it.

  17. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 4:11 pm

    But enough about KNUCKLE…Sorry, Tom.

  18. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 6:02 pm

    Fuck it, I’m sorry for ranting on your blog Tom, but I FUCKING HATE HATE HATE FUCKING HATE it; that I am abused by the fucking minnows and internet TROLLS, TROLLS, FUCKING TROLLS..

    • Paul said,

      March 8, 2012 at 6:10 pm

      Uh, Tom. I did not write the above comment. That means that desmond was somehow able to access my account. I’m not a hacker; not sure how these things are done. But the sociopath doesn’t seem to be able to stop, does it?

  19. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 6:07 pm

    The truth is, I am being persecuted by the CIA, FBI and Rick fucking Santorum. He’s been following me, or having the secret service fucking following me. Why, why, fucking why does America have to do it, every fucking time I get to the next level, BAMOO!! up it starts, the looks, the whispers, the lies and the FUCKING TROLLS TROLLS TROLLS!!!!

    Obama just as fucking bad, having the Chicago mob watching my every move, telling lies about me, making shit up, and all because he knows I am the only fucking one who can bring the REVOLUTION to fruition in this facist fucking hell hole.

    Come with me Tom, join me, come on, let’s fucking show those bastards. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!

    • Paul said,

      March 8, 2012 at 6:12 pm

      Listen, Ariana, I hope you’re proud of yourself for again infiltrating my accounts and life and attempting to speak for me…This is why you are repulsive. Sociopaths don’t *learn*. They are never *sorry*.

      • Paul said,

        March 8, 2012 at 6:17 pm

        I will begin routinely naming you by name. Since you have no real ability to account for your own actions, and others are more than happy to go on a Springer Trhill Ride with you (since, apparently, it’s way cooler than that – because, uh, money buys class, as we all know). But if you want to begin to watch the deterioration of your career and reputation, which I know you would kill your own mother to “win” – keep it up.

      • Paul said,

        March 8, 2012 at 6:18 pm

        Fuck you Josh, doing it again aren’t you, pretending to be me. I hope your fucking happy with your pathetic fucking greasy attempts at ruining my fucking life. And don’t think you’ve gotten away with what you tried on the last time you turned up. It won’t be as easy for you to get away next time. Just because ‘John’ dumped you for that fucking heroin addict rent boy doesn’t mean you can fuck my life up again. And forget bringing your skank fucking pal Joan along next time, coked up to the fucking eyeballs. I don’t do that stupid shit. Get backk to fucking rehab, loser!!

        • Paul said,

          March 8, 2012 at 6:28 pm

          The real Paul here. Modernism was the beginning of beauty being something which is bought – by the Guggenheim, for instance – not something which is actually beautiful.

          • Paul said,

            March 8, 2012 at 6:37 pm

            The real ‘Paul’? Paul who? Just one of millions of anonymous Pauls, ‘Paul’; and you are not one of them. You’re that troll hiding behind a mask because you can’t speak as yourself because you’re too full of angry thoughts about …what ‘Paul’, c’mon, what are you so fearful of? Don’t be scared, I’m here for you, so tell us all about it, come on, just let it all out.

            • Paul said,

              March 8, 2012 at 6:58 pm

              The real Paul here. Keep it up, Ariana. This is what I mean by KNUCKLE. After all this happened, and I realized how many identities you had and your fondness for keeping thousands of blogs. I remembered that J’s name came up on one of your blogs years ago. We both looked at and were perplexed by the narrative.

              Anyway, quite simply you were brainwashing him over the internet. You use psychological warfare to make people do what you want. Like I said, most people are more than happy to go along with this -whether they know you are doing it or not. I’m immune. I’ve always known you were a liar and a sociopath since I first read you. I’m immune. I can think out of the time. That’s not to say I’m unemotional about what’s transpired here. Hence, my outbursts.

              • Paul is Tom talking to himself said,

                March 9, 2012 at 5:23 pm

                whatever, ‘Paul’ aka Tom talking to himself, inventing people to talk to because no one else comes and chats here

                • thomasbrady said,

                  March 9, 2012 at 5:27 pm

                  Who is “Paul is Tom talking?”

                  Stay tuned, dear readers!!!

                • Paul said,

                  March 9, 2012 at 5:43 pm

                  get out of my account, psycho.

  20. thomasbrady said,

    March 8, 2012 at 8:19 pm

    Paul,

    You’re beautiful, man.

    Tom

    • Paul said,

      March 8, 2012 at 8:28 pm

      Ariana Reines, however, is not beautiful. She’s a reptile.

    • julian said,

      March 10, 2012 at 9:33 am

      Oh, and obviously she’s puppeteering you as well. But guess what – you didnt “win”. Tomas, I really think you should understand that this constitutes a lose. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out in the near future. My losses are behind me, yours are just beginning.

  21. thomasbrady said,

    March 8, 2012 at 8:51 pm

    Paul,

    I’ve never heard of Ariana Reines. But I found some of her poetry on the web. I’ll paste it and then say something about it. Why not?

    You girls. Your knees

    And waists in my mind. Your common sense.

    You look weird and you know what you do.

    Something is remembered and held in store.

    Something is protracted and inferior

    And it covers something private that has to be.

    The population of the world is willing to live only and completely on its outermost skin.

    Full lips obscure the birthmark.

    An angle of the grandfather in the knees. Something baroque and lascivious even in his dismay face.

    Two taupe eyes are beautiful because of the oblivion. Because of the attention.

    There will be some to come to harm, and others to learn to be what they possess, to learn to possess at all, to enlarge and after a long time to see

    Poplars shimmy like Liza Minnelli.

    Steeples up in the air like what you want.

    Their verdigris like what I am.

    Students are slimmer now; their pills are better.

    We two are faster, as fast as one another, just slightly faster than a moment before when we found out something about one another the sun was butter and we knew it and it was melting the fat of the world and we were it.

    We became slow. We grew tolerant and sad. Mothers. All at once we knew. We knew the depth of our capacities. We became equaller to them, more and more.

    This was our art.

    When I am on all fours and I have to pee and he has to pee and he fucks me the tension in our bellies and the blood in our middles makes us have to be what we are.

    Tits in the mirror like the bulges under the golden fleece.

    A face doesn’t have to mean anything, everything is too much and whatever it breaks is where something true will have had to have happened and will have.

    Unified substance

    Of all things into which the sun installs burrows and launches the first accusation.

    Saying like is attaching one thing to another in this atmosphere that offers no resistance. Or the word wants to be the drop of mercury in the silver dollar sized plastic labyrinth.

    Lonely and incapable and poisonous nevertheless. But the word is not this

    But sometimes it almost is.

    Ugly buildings immure themselves in the distance.

    The woman with heavy buttocks knows how to handle the folds in her dress. Rushing, she is visibly aware of and dependent upon her dignity, she is totally believable in her self possession and in her reality.

    I in the enormity

    Of this interiority

    Become her.

    My prayer.

    The time of day is now felling some loose light from out of those trees. They are becoming bluer and more solid. The satellite dishes are clear and there.

    * * *

    Give up the habit of weeping for yourself, says the woman to the man with the malady of death in the novel by Marguerite Duras.

    The sex parts of good books are usually the worst parts, that is too bad about good books.

    Some bad books have good sex in them. And sex that I can see is somebody else’s.

    I want to have the sex that’s mine, the sex that I have, okay.

    Time to tell the difference between what’s emitted and what’s left over and what was there in the first place.

    Everything else far off in the distance, far far ahead.

    The hills decline like several dromedaries slowly sitting down.

    • julian said,

      March 10, 2012 at 10:15 am

      ““I’ll say this once. I hope it will be useful to you. It is
      purely factual.

      As best i can deduce, the person to whom you keep referring is Ariana
      Reines, a person I have literally never met. The simple meaning of
      this is: you are not processing data accurately, or even
      semi-accurately. I find this worrisome, for you, and honestly hope you
      are ok. But I just want to present this as information. There is no
      way to engage any of these letters as there is no purchase in reality.

      Joshua”

  22. thomasbrady said,

    March 8, 2012 at 9:35 pm

    Paul,

    Why do you care if she is a reptile, or not?

    Her poetry is awful.

    Tom

  23. Paul said,

    March 8, 2012 at 9:36 pm

    beauty has been avoided and or is scolded; check. some obvious pandering to the audience of “girls”; check. prose lines & non-poetic diction to make it “modern”; check. respectfully mediocre, and not *too imaginative; check. some religious pretension; check. a sex scene; check. a four dollar word at the end to remind the audience i’m smarter than them; check.

    unimpressed. and it’s especially nauseating when you know this person is a misogynst.

    • thomasbrady said,

      March 8, 2012 at 9:40 pm

      You don’t need to throw labels at her. Just pity her. She’s a terrible poet.

    • Paul said,

      March 8, 2012 at 9:48 pm

      Even if I didn’t already despise this person, by the time I got to “My prayer.” I would begin to.

      To be fair (ha ha) there are like 4 good lines on this long menu of trendy bullshit.

      -the Real Paul

      • Paul said,

        March 8, 2012 at 10:01 pm

        But if you read this out loud to an audience of hipsters in Brooklyn in a pretentious poet voice and dress up like a clown, I’m sure it *blows minds*.

        • thomasbrady said,

          March 9, 2012 at 1:56 pm

          Yes.

          See Plato’s “Ion.”

          • Paul said,

            March 9, 2012 at 5:15 pm

            I think it was Spicer who said something to the effect: ‘if it sounds too good when you read it aloud, throw it away’.

          • Paul said,

            March 9, 2012 at 9:12 pm

            Tom, you are right on with this, as you often are (except about Adorno, who you know nothing about!)

            I’m re-reading Ion. Yes, Reines is not a poet, but a rhapsode. That’s a generous way to think about it. LOL.

            Anyway, I think you are lying. Of course you are!

            You probably find this mannerist hodge-podge of pop quirks and quacks and smirks of sedimented sentiment a hoot. What is one to do with a “real poet” anyway? There’s not much you can do with them. What can you do sides putting them on the court and crush them mightily in the gods-only game of “good clean fun”.

            Ion knew everything about Homer! Only Homer! Homer for $!

            • thomasbrady said,

              March 9, 2012 at 9:48 pm

              Paul,

              You’ve never explained how Adorno gets away with blaming everything on “bourgeois society,” though. Look, I recognize he’s brilliant, but if there’s one flaw in your reasoning it really spoils things.

              If such a giant flaw were found in my reasoning, I would want it pointed out!

              I don’t find her a “hoot.” I find Leslie Scalapino a bit of a hoot. But not Reines.

              Tom

              • Paul said,

                March 9, 2012 at 10:00 pm

                Oh then how did Homer get away with blaming everything on the gods?…Tomas, you certainly have a sunnier, airier way of looking at things, but I do take your criticism seriously. I am not yet quite in the frame of mind to attack this Adorno issue…

                • Paul said,

                  March 9, 2012 at 10:02 pm

                  Ah yes, Scalapino. PURE MUSIC.

      • thomasbrady said,

        March 9, 2012 at 1:58 pm

        “The hills decline like several dromedaries slowly sitting down.”

        Damn, I have this nice line and I don’t know what to do with it!

        I’ll just stick in this list here…no one will care…

        LOL

        • Paul said,

          March 9, 2012 at 5:08 pm

          Yes, it’s too bad this line wasn’t placed in a POEM. That may be the only musical line in this whole thing.

          Oh, and ‘the trees like Liza Minelli and the sun like butter and the knees like grandfather’? Awful.

          This seems to be notes for an essay or short story. When it does try to be “poetic” it tries too hard ie -npr pretentious voice: “this was our art” “my prayer” – and just makes me cringe.

  24. Paul said,

    March 9, 2012 at 5:25 pm

    And the first three lines? Condescending. Boring.

    • Paul said,

      March 9, 2012 at 11:00 pm

      Who is the author of this poem? Andrea Dworkin. That’s who.

      See past the appearances.


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