The Tragedy of Moths.

Wrote this poem a few nights ago, when a moth was battering itself against my window, think it says something about human nature. Really rather fond of moths, they are the butterflies of the night.

The Tragedy of Moths.

Moth, why do you fly to candle light,

Or dance against the window bright,

When you wander through the night?

Why batter your pretty wings in vain,

Or end you short life in burning pain?

If you love the light, enough to die,

            Why do you fly,

                        In the inky night?

                     And not the daylight sky.

On an entirely unrelated note, my friends and I came up with the wonderfull phrase 'from the crate table to the grave' on sunday night, a crate table being a table improvised from a crate of beer , for when one is sat on the floor.

Probobly going to a poetry reading at the Bewery Arts Centre on saturday night, the Vampyre novel is going quite well, having some debate as to how many characters I should kill. If anyone reading this writes anything gothic, romantic or post-romantic, it would be rather jolly to hear from you.

 

On The Gothic.

"A great man will do great things as easily as a small man will do small thing."
 John Ruskin.

John Ruskin. (1819-1900): The Greatest English Philosopher, and all round splendid chap.

    

   Having recently lent Ruskin's essay, On The Gothic, to my good friend Ricky (one of the greatest living poets) I was reminded of just how fascinating the book is.

   It begins by describing Gothic Architecture, and leads to criticism of the capitalist system of mass production and an exploration of the human condition. Socially and politically it is as, or more, left wing than Marx, with an additional degree of humanity and wit. The main argument runs as follows;

   Gothic architecture, unlike classical architecture, uses imperfect angles (arches rather than circles), Classic architecture attempts to represent or imitate the perfect work of the divine, where as the Gothic represents the imperfect nature of humanity. Gothic architecture, in contrast to modern archduchess, is imperfect and unique, in that it is made by individual craftsmen (for example, every gargoyle on Gothic churches is different, and may have some flaw, because every one is made by hand by a different craftsman). The vast majority of modern architecture (and almost all modernly constructed material things) are made by machines and a great deal of unskilled workers. 

   The point is two fold. Firstly, that humanity ought, as in Gothic architecture, to embrace its imperfect and individual nature. Secondly, that it is dehumanising (as well as artistically vulgar) for people to be forced to work in mass production, where they have no chance to develop their skills or to expression themselves. The theory is similar to Marxist Alienation of Labour. Before the Industrial Revolution, almost every working person was a craftsman of some kind, now the majority of people are expected to work like identical machines. Capitalism, like classical architecture, attempts to reproduce prefect at the cost of humanity.

   It would be fascinating to see what Ruskin would say if he were here now. No doubt the continued growth of capitalism would horrify him, as would this world of celebrity worship and 'plastic people'.

   What would he think of modern Gothic culture? Whilst there can be a degree of pretension, the expression of individuality is still an important part of The Gothic.

On The Reputation of Poets.

It is often embarrassing to tell people that I write, because they then ask what I write, and I am forced to admit that, amongst other things, I write poetry. At which point, a lot of people, especially men, will abruptly change the subject or look at me as though I had just said that I are rather keen on flowers and sodomy.
Poets, particulate male poets, have a terrible reputation amongst the majority of the population.
This is partly because of the likes of Wordsworth writing about flowers so much (flowers are rather good, but there are so many other things to write about), partly because of the debauchery of the likes of Wilde and Lord Byron (both excellent poets, but morally questionable chaps), and partly because many modern male poets right such terrible nonsense.
In the past, poets were the rock stars of their age. They were not 'soft men', and more often than not they were overly keen on, and very popular with, the ladies. Coleridge served as a Dragoon in his youth, Poe trained as a military officer and served in the artillery, Lord Byron raised his own army and declared war on the Turk. This was reflected in the passion of both their work and their lives.
All the men I know who write poetry are down to earth, hard drinking men. The women who write are practical yet passionate.
Most of the best poetry is about girls and death.
The reputation of poets needs to changed; from one of prejudice to one of fact.
We ought to lead by example.

  More art by Harry Clarke, from illustrations to Goethe's Faust.