your life is not an american movie,

September 23, 2009 at 6:46 pm | Posted in poetry, sheer selfindulgence, writing | 19 Comments
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living the cliche, the artist muse model cruise ship,
something has to sparkle, jewellery you recognise
from previous vague description suddenly alive
two silver wings in rhyme and no apparent ballast
in this ever wondrous paradox whilst
whispering the rope into ever stranger knots


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  1. sometimes it sure seems like it though, with the typical ending you wish you could avoid…:)
    I do like a happy ending, Michelle.

  2. To take something as murky, ordinary and worn out like our everyday language and polish it back to transparence so it can refract sunlight , break it down in small sparkles as a jewel does… always a challenge…
    Always a challenge, yes, but one I find impossible to resist, Ana.

  3. Yes yes yes, such a paradox indeed. And we trip along the edge, laughing and crying and sometimes both at once.
    And it is such fun, Kristen.

  4. Wonderful opening line, Squires! And, oh! That title! I’d love to see a book of your poetry with that title. Still, you haven’t convinced me… if my life isn’t an American movie, then what’s with the camera crew following me around?

    Can my life at least be an American porno? I’ve very flexible.

    INSPIRATION! I think I’ll have to write a poem now…

  5. […] YOUR LIFE IS AN EASTERN EUROPEAN PORNOGRAPHIC FILM September 23, 2009 poeticgrin Leave a comment Go to comments A response to Paul Squires’ poem, your life is not an american movie, […]

  6. I love you Paul. You take me places.
    Thanks, Bryan. Always glad to be of service. But if you ask me to take you to see Eastern European porn movies, I think a couple of other people might object, haha. Your poem is supercool.

  7. No movies about this life. Would fail at the box office.
    No it wouldn’t Ms Squirrel, not if you wrote it.

  8. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could choose the film our life was? I mean, what about a 60s French film directed by Godard? Or an Italian film directed by Fellini perhaps? What’s your preference Paul?

    ‘Whispering the rope into ever stranger knots’ is killer by the way. A touch of Kubrick genius, (who though American lived most of his life in England, so it’s alright.)
    At the moment my preference would be Studio Ghibli, Alec.

  9. Hey! You moved the rope, Paul. Or did you just shift the dimensions around it? Fabulous!
    Haha, I got tired of moving the goalposts, Brad, thanks.

  10. strange knots, yes, seemingly ever tightening around my throat. one has to wonder how much oxygen is really necessary… as always, i enjoyed reading your work, even when i miss the point entirely. lol
    It’s not possible to miss the point entirely, Psychobillygirl. You might think you did. Your name would be perfect for a character in my Studio Ghibli autobiographical film.

  11. Yes, a lovely puzzle poem (great disappearing bat-finks)- hope you have ordered a Kamahl suit on the internet as a reward Squires.
    I just can’t decide, Gabrielle, the white spangley open necked one or the royal blue flares?

  12. something has to sparkle! this does-like a necklace of pearls and gemstones lying open on a glass table with a tiny hook on one end and a neat clasp on the other. then you pick it up and tie it round yr neck and catch the reflection in the mirror, zzzzing it sparkles. way cool poem. the title too, like a paradox inside, brilliant.
    Thankyou Tipota. Your comment is like a dazzling tipotarising remix of the poem, brilliant.

  13. Movies are an art form; Nevertheless a vast amount of people call Hollywood a movie factory. This is because movies are being made with formulas that are repeated tons of times, those repetitions include the way scripts are written, the kind of clothes actors use, etc.

    The probolem is that people belive that life is like the stories that are shown in movies. Which create false belife, such as the classical one: when the coupe ends up kissing people assume they will be happily ever after, but instead, that is when the real challenges starts, which is building a good couple. Many other lies we where raise beliving they where real, like the goods ones do not have failures, the bad ones are complete psycchos, Aliens drive in round flying machines, and many other myths.

    When marketers convince us to follow their trends,
    the difference between humans and insects gets a little blurrier
    It does indeed, Mariana. A time will come when we will have to define exactly what a human is beyond the biology.

  14. But beautiful and marvellous and sparkly too! And then breathtaking, this is one of my favorites Paul
    A new favourite, Ms Mist, yayaya. I was just reading your review of “The Puzzle Box” at Lulu, it is wonderful, thankyou.

  15. Amazing imagery here, Paul — the sparkles and the wild-winging it in the wind, what a delight!
    Thanks Thomma Lyn. I still haven’t got the poems really singing again yet. But if keep going it will come back, I hope.

  16. not sure which I love more: the sounds of this poem or the images

    well done, my friend
    Thankyou, Gwendolyn.

  17. i believe the two silver wings and no apparent ballast is my key into this. american movies…to me a fascist dream factory to be admired from afar for its precision and iron boots but directly avoided at all costs.
    Me too, Jason. Although it has been pointed out to me that there is Jim Jarmusch and Mike Figgis. I was just using the phrase ‘American movies’ to indicate a certain type of simplified narrative.

  18. Lovely meditation and so I’m playing a riff. (Sorry, just an amateur, though I try to keep the beat)

    watchful tautness, an artist-muse line-maker spreads,
    paint film to have wet fishes, who while disguised
    as precious nuages, wave vibrato-rounding djangoey noises
    one wild day as real and not imaginary clouds
    from the very wide parallel world
    washed blue into every pleated and plumbed sky
    That is a lovely poem, Aletha, thankyou.

  19. oh, and my American life is not an American movie. I am more than the sum of the mcdonald’s hambergers I may have eaten except that I’m taking the fifth and not telling. we americans, whatever were we thinking?

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