I thought it might be a good idea to just go to town on the page, to let what comes to mind come through my keyboard… Join James J Jackson on Patreon to get access to this post and more benefits. — Read on http://www.patreon.com/posts/50344679
Talk is cheap, Mother Fucker! So are these words, lacking. Yet if we do not know them to be true is not their context irrelevant? Pointless? Even trifling? These wrongs you spit with no elegance, sadly, always ring true. Is not the vulgar as poignant as the subtle? Isn’t context important anymore? It may meanContinue reading “Ring True”
Too poor to write? Too dumb to be important. That is what you say when you scoff at the literate, When you make “beautiful” synonymous with “bougie” Literature and Revolution, name one that never had the other. Yes, the old guard is no longer revolutionary, but you still have much too learn if you replaceContinue reading “Insulting, a poem”
What is a writer to do when he wants to write everything!?
A poem in the time of pandemic.
Are you shocked, absolutely shocked, that JK Rowling would out herself so blatantly as a transphobic bigot? Don’t be. Rowling has never been on the side of the oppressed. She was one of the agents of smear against the integral Jeremy Corbyn, which helped the Tories sweep the latest general election, and she insisted thatContinue reading “Surprised JK Rowling Is A Monster? Then You Didn’t Pay Attention to Harry Potter”
No ideas, but all the motivation. All the reasons to do it yet no reason at all. Like a marathon, hitting a wall. Just spit it out, Put it on the page! Put it on the Page! Forget if it makes sense, forget the grammar and spell checks. Fuck making sense. Just put it onContinue reading “Writers Block, A Poem”
Reading a book alone in the Redwood Forrest On the observational scale, I do sit here in the redwoods in lotus pose, with a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on a stack of logs next to me. What is the catch? Is that but the paranoid disillusionment of the redneck hippiesContinue reading “Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem”
What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? PRODUCE! Must produce content! For fame, For a following, Quite literally and painfully so, thanks to the stench of both words. To produce is to manufacture, To manufacture is to produce. The workers are the ones who produce, So the artists, the writers, the creators, we areContinue reading “What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? A Poem”
Do not throw that word around lightly, it needs to be used to call out genuinely damaging behavior.
Courage Is The Sweetest Lullaby Fear not your lions, And constrain yourself upon the unsightly sounds of this date of sorrow. Do but construct, And constrain, For the winter’s winds are but lost by the summer sun. The nymphs of the seasons do hold their treasons so, Be not the character of perpetual woe. RainsContinue reading “Courage Is The Sweetest Lullaby, a poem”
The Teacher As The Poet Content’s production, Ease of mind and constant rush, Narcotic ease, And still the voices don’t stop. Stagnation is a creative mind’s enemy, as is cowardice. We are our words, our letters and symbols. Intentions mean nothing when they fail, Yet success is still a subjective term. I am responsible forContinue reading “The Teacher As The Poet, a poem”
Art in Our Times Piss poor excuse for a joke, All the un-ironic irony in real life. I have always said it, Life is a parody of the self, We live in Chaplin’s Modern Times, We are the machines, And the proles. We are wheels, Turning and obedient to the driver, Circle after circle, LoopContinue reading “Art in Our Times, a poem”