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Let's Smash The Literary World Into Bits With A Wrecking Ball! It'll Be Fun!

WolfLarsen

Member
THE WOLF LARSEN MANIFESTO

1. All great Writers should gather at the entrances of the major publishing houses and urinate on their doorsteps!

2. All great Poets should use the pages of the country’s most prestigious literary magazines as toilet paper!

3. All “poets” that rhyme should be castrated at once!

4. Poetry and prose should be immoral and blasphemous! If your poetry shocks and offends religious extremists, puritanical feminists, politicians, black nationalists, white supremacists, and everybody else than you’re probably doing something right! The paintings of Picasso, the symphonies of Mahler, and the sculptures of Rodin shocked and offended many people too! The last thing the world needs is more boring polite “literature”!

5. If you write prose just like ten thousand other writers than why bother writing? Garbage men contribute far more to society than “writers” and “poets” that write like everybody else! No two authors or poets should read even remotely alike!

6. From this day forward the words Poet, Writer, Sculptor, Playwright, Painter, Composer, and all other Artists should appear in capitals. After all, some guy named god who doesn’t even exist appears in capitals and since Artists are greater than god than words like Poet and Artist should be capitalized.

7. There is no god as written in the bible. Rather, every Human Being that lives on earth is a god because Humans are the most creative animals on the planet. Therefore, Artists are gods!

8. Who cares about the rules of grammar? Take a baseball bat and SMASH the rules of grammar into pieces! Language must obey the wishes of the Writer. The Writer should take language and mold it and reshape it as he sees fit just like a Sculptor.

9. Poets and Writers need to look at the rest of the art world and learn. Poetry and fiction currently appear to be the most backward mediums of the art world. Painting has raced forward like a fast car, jazz music has run forward like a rabbit, even classical music in the last hundred years has left the writing world behind in both innovation and boldness. Writing and poetry are progressing forward at a crawl – just like a snail. All Poets and Writers should think of themselves as wrecking ball operators – we must SMASH the literary world as we know it into bits with a bold and revolutionary writing!

10. The system we live under has nothing to offer but endless wars, prisons, poverty, homophobia, racial and gender discrimination, class oppression, anti-sex puritanism, and human extinction from nuclear war. The literary establishment has nothing to offer us but airport novels, censorship (in the form of political correctness), pretentious “literary” magazines filled with hack “poetry” that sometimes even rhymes, and the never ending boring banal “well-polished” “well-crafted” “literary” fiction whose main purpose seems to be to help insomniacs fall asleep. Bartok’s symphonies don’t help people fall asleep! Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring caused a riot when it was first played! Jackson Pollock’s paintings can hardly be considered sleepy! Poetry and literature must become explosive, chaotic, alive, exciting, dynamic, etc. – just like the times we live in!

11. More than anything else remember there is no one else like you on the entire planet! So why should you write like everybody else? Write like nobody else writes! If you’re not creative than why should future generations bother reading your writing? Every Writer should be his own literary movement! Every Writer should be his own literary revolution!

Copyright 2004 by Wolf Larsen
 
YEH!

Do you hear the people sing singing the songs of angry men it is the music of the people who will not be slaves again!

Say it like you mean it!

... But seriously I like to try and make my writting different. There is so much similarity.
 
I don't get numbers 1 through 11. How about number 12: whiners suffer the hell of a thousand deaths.
 
sirmyk said:
I don't get numbers 1 through 11. How about number 12: whiners suffer the hell of a thousand deaths.
:D

Whiners or the people that have to listen to their b.s.?
 
WolfLarsen said:
we must SMASH the literary world as we know it into bits with a bold and revolutionary writing! ... Poetry and literature must become explosive, chaotic, alive, exciting, dynamic, etc.

Like this humdrum crap?

I sat on a chair outside and looked down at the viiiiieeeeww while I drank a beer! What a view!
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]It was night and there were all the lights of high-rises and cars down there. Spreading out in the ocean was a fleet of cargo ships and their lights dancing up and down with the waves. I had another sip of cold beer. Yeeaah!! I had woken up in the Philippines that morning and decided to go to China - and now here I was looking down at the lights of Hong Kong.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]The next morning I walked out into all the Hong Kong! Hong Kong! What a crazy crazy place in a wonderful wonderful way. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Hong Kong is a constant bombardment into your ears and eyes and nose! Hong Kong is a feverous everything! There are endless high-rises and constant traffic and lots of HUGE double-decker buses VLOOOMING like big colorful monsters through the streets. Overhead the near sky is filled with Chinese signs-signs-signs. [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Everywhere I heard the CLATTERING BOOM-ing BOOM-ing construction noises of more high-rises being built.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]"Communism" was coming, or the English were finally giving up "their" "democratic" colony, or something like that.
[/FONT]

As revolutionary prose goes, it's not exactly Woolf or Joyce, is it, boys and girls?
 
Shade said:
As revolutionary prose goes, it's not exactly Woolf or Joyce, is it, boys and girls?
Yes... it is like Woolf or Joyce... just with sooooommmme hiccups HICCUPS, or turrets, turrets! or something. Like "turrets", or something like that. Perhaps Hong Kong Hong Kong turrets.
 
Do you hear the people sing singing the songs of angry men it is the music of the people who will not be slaves again!

I love that. Thank you "Miss Tolstoy".

Oh yes - another thing - I do not understand why some literary magazines are considered prestigious and others are not. Often - but not always - when I open a "prestigious" "widely-respected" literary magazine I find horrible "poetry" that rhymes.

However, many excellent literary magazines that publish exciting innovative work are not given the kind of publicity and support that they deserve.

How unfortunate.

Cheers,
Wolf Larsen
 
What's this thing you have against rhyme? That's the second time you've singled it out as your only specific complaint about some poems, or as you would put it, "poems."

You need to read more Philip Larkin, for example, so see what rhyme can do.
 
[SIZE=+1]Aubade[/SIZE]


Philip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night
Waking at four to the soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation; yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.

The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel
, not seeing
That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.

And it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen; this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good;
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.

Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can't escape,
Yet can't accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
 
You're entitled to your opinion, Wolfie (Freedom for Tooting!!), but you seriously damage your credibility (if you had any left for the good folks here) by blithely denouncing without explanation one of the most acclaimed poets of the 20th century. Eliot, Yeats, Frost, MacNeice, Auden, to name a handful, also published rhyming poems and are also much more widely acclaimed and loved than Wolf Larsen.

But so everyone can make up their own minds, here are a couple of Wolf Larsen original poems:

a thousand blue skies

Air raid sirens are symphonies are hate and greed, they are the screechings of humanity on the edge of extinction

Every poem, every concerto, every painting and sculpture will all be waste
When the nuclear bombs are on the way grab the sky and turn it upside down

Kill your own children

Watch as your mother rips out her body organs one by one and places them into your hands

Eat the furniture in your room

Swallow cyanide with a loved one

Begin masturbating

Swallow your family

Think of the human race drowning and there are no lifeboats

Explain to your children what nucler [sic] war means, tell them they have ten minutes to live

Try to write a poem that no one will ever read in the remaining nine minutes

Pray to a god that can not [sic] exist

Pray for mercy that will not come

Still, good poetry thrives on innovation, and I certainly don't think I've seen the word 'nucler' used in a poem before.

Here's another.

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Thursday [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]by Wolf Larsen[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I reach into all the buildings and begin pulling [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]extinct people out of them and [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]they all smile [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]squirming alphabets at me, then I sing a[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]speeding-lurching-[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]dashing-roaming-saxophone[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]and topple all the cities with exploding music[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]until [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]our bodies are drenched with night, my love[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I grab mountains in my hands and I [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]give them t[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]o[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]you, I throw steel mills and high-rises across the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]sky to tell you [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]that I love you, I grab all the oceans in my hands as an offering[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]to you, I hold [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]the voices of your family in your ear so you will smile and paint[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]new york city [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]with your smile - I pour my symphonies across the universe so[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]that the sun and [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]the planets will all be drenched with my love, I turn your [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]husband into the blue [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]sky so he can watch our bodies creating the moon and [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]the mountains together, [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]I want to give you six billion people smiling at you with[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]all my love for you, I [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]erase every border in the world for you, I give you God[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]knelling [sic] at your feet

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]reciting all my poems for you, I want to give you [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]thecontinent [sic] of Europe swelling in your body with [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]all our love and lust and flesh swirling in the [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]night sky together, I give you God's power of [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]creation in your[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]hands - so that you can make [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]the world florescent [sic] with our lovemaking, I give [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]you every smiling sunny day and place it into [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]your heart, I give you all thewomen [sic] in the world [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]singing in a chorus around us as we make love, [/FONT]I [/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]place into [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]your hands every -----, every church, every synagogue - so that every [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]night we[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]will make love in the most beautiful temples in the world, I give you [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]every man[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]in the world as our personal eunuch serving us grapes and wine, I [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]give you [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]every musician painting the world with all our happiness, and I will [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]wrap my [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]arms around you until there is no more world, until the stars have [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]ceased to [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]exist, until the entire continent melts and flows into you, and we will [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]smile [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]extravagantly all the way to union station, and you will return to your [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]home in [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]the suburbs, and your husband will ask how your day went?[/FONT]

For more laughs, click here.[/FONT]
 
I particularly like Ten Thousand Penises In Your Ear (who wouldn't?) - click the title to read an extract. Who'd have thunk the Caps Lock key could have such a crucial role in the creative process?

"I am a bottle of Whiskey," said censored. So censored began waLking [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]thrOugh CentrAl pArk dragGing the baThRoom with hiM and evEryoNe - lOoked - [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]uP -And-[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]becAme- fa-l-l-iNg wOrds. All thE walls aRe kniveS? "so whaT iS a [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]skyscraper?"[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]askEd your belly button. The skYscRaPers and sUbways suDdenly [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]explOde into[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]miLLions and millIOns of geNitals of moleculeS. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]So Beethoven and [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Wolf Larsen were walking hand in hand through central park[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]and talking [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]impulsiveness to all the ants. tRains! meteoRs! An army of teN-[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]thoUsanD [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]traNvestites carrying uNopened Whiskey bottles were walkinG silently [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]behind them.[/FONT]

Or how about Slam! Boom! Crash! which is described as "wilder than a Nabokov novel" - ooh, that sounds like one for the Lolita lovers...

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]A face among the many now,You walked through the downtown crowds. Cheap clothing. Desperate faces. Intense serious expressions. Walkin' Fast. Everybody Walkin Fast nowhere - to their nowhere jobs their nowhere homes. Putting around in the giant and little circles of their nowhere lies.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Except You. You walked ex-tra slo-ow. You was the oddball. People eyeing you suspiciously as they shuf-f-fled irritably around you. You Walked slow…ly, you didn't care, you didn't give a shit. You are smiling. You finally…ahahahhahHAHAHAHAHAHhah.[/FONT]

AhahahAHAHAHAhah. Yes, I think that's how we all feel right about now.

Or how about The Exclamation Point!, "a run-on sentence." "The Exclamation Point! was originally a nearly 200,000 word run-on sentence that Wolf Larsen slashed and cut down to less than 70,000 words because Wolf hates to waste words." And who could argue with that? Particularly when the sentence begins like this:

[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Na!ples Na!ples Na!ples with all its buildings flying in the sky and cars cars [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]cars restless streams of cars around and around the city and thunderous [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]motorcycles all zoooming zipping up your arms and around and around your [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]navel and down your back and people people people walking in and out of [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]your ears mouth and asshole like rushing ants and people ... [etc. etc. for a very long time indeed][/FONT]

What a load of Na!ples.
[/FONT]
[/FONT]
 
WolfLarsen said:
I love that. Thank you "Miss Tolstoy".

when I open a "prestigious" "widely-respected" literary magazine I find horrible "poetry" that rhymes.

However, many excellent literary magazines that publish exciting innovative work are not given the kind of publicity and support that they deserve.

How unfortunate.

Cheers,
Wolf Larsen

Lol not a problem I guess. But I have got to agree with the others what is the problem with rhyming poetry?!? I'd like to see you actually explain why rhyming poetry that rhymes is "horrible" and wrong. I think your being a bit selective and narrow minded yourself here. What about a perfectly concieved sonnet, that has to have rhyming couplets as they are believed to encompas the theme precisely and with conservatism. Plus this is considered very hard to achieve and if done well means that you have displayed your skils as a poet and artist. Consult any sonnet but especially Shakespeare. You will be shocked out of these rediculous views you harbour.

Whats with all this hatred of the 'prestigous magazines' its not a war field out there. Competative yes but a lot of writters like to support each other. Im guessing that this attack is because you yourself got rejected from one?

Perhaps lie low a while, there tearing you to pieces in here.
 
It ain't a joke, Zolipara - this guy's stuff is available on Amazon. Of course, none of the books have managed to achieve a sales rank, which means nobody has ever bought any of them - and I don't think it's because Ten Thousand Penises In Your Ear, for instance, costs $31 for 100 pages.

Pornography: Poems has however received one review. A one-star one.

The Demise of Poetry
, July 27, 2006
Reviewer:Pound n' Emily "Dickens" (Thesoloniki, Greece) - See all my reviewsThe democracy of self-publishing has revolutionized access to the literary world and made it possible for readers and writers of all ages, abilities, and tastes to experience a wide variety of written media. This, few can argue, is a bad thing. The unfortunate side-effect to the phenomenon is the loss of a professional standard for excellence which is evident when one reads the work of Wolf Larsen. If metaphors can be inacurate, Larsen does it better than anyone. For example, the speaker of "Walk Through My Poem and Feel the Sunlight Holding You Forever" says ". . .I dream the entire world into your head, I recreate the universe . . ." One wonders how the listener could be around in the first place for the "world" to be dreamt into anyone's head and if the world is created then wouldn't the universe need to exist prior to that? I could go on but I'll leave this by saying that none of this makes any sense.
 
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