The General Commentary Thread
- Thread starter Tzara
- Start date
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,667
Interesting question. I don't write with an intention to elicit any reaction other than i hope readers like or can relate to the poem. I guess I don't think or plan that way when I write. I may choose a word or phrase or line break that I hope will have a strong impact, all in service or what I'm trying to say.So an intriguing question/concept
Do you ever intend for your poetry to offend?
Poetry can be beautiful but do you write ugly ?
I've written about painful experiences so I guess if I write ugly that's where it happens. And if I write something that I'm satisfied with and someone is offended by it, so be it.
_Land
Bear Sage
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2002
- Posts
- 1,461
So I did a little research
The Fire in the Mouth: A Spoken History of Modern American Poetic Uprising
By Bear Sage
---
Introduction: Where There’s Smoke, There’s a Mouth Full of Fire
In America, the poet has often stood at the edge of the fire line mouth full of smoke and prophecy, daring to speak something dangerous into the nation’s sacred myths.
This isn’t a history of peace.
This is a catalog of friction. A montage of moments when language wasn't for hearts but for hammers. When the poet didn't beg to be heard, they dared the silence to swallow them whole.
These are not your classroom poets.
These are incendiaries.
---
1. Amiri Baraka “Somebody Blew Up America” (2001)
Poet Laureate. Truth grenade.
Baraka stood in the dust and rage of post-9/11 America and did what few dared, he asked questions. Not soft ones. Not safe ones. His poem didn’t just grieve, it accused. He pointed fingers at history, empire, and silence.
“Who? Who do you know
that’s been paid off to turn their head the other way?”
Baraka didn’t blame blindly. He ripped open the fabric of power and dared people to look at what was stitched underneath. In return, the state tried to silence him not with rebuttal, but erasure. New Jersey eliminated the entire role of poet laureate just to make sure he’d never wear the crown again.
That’s the power of a poem that doesn’t ask for approval.
---
2. Pat Parker “Womanslaughter” (1978, revived in 2010s)
Blood doesn’t lie, and neither did she.
When Pat Parker’s sister was murdered by her husband, the law called it “manslaughter.” One year in prison. A life reduced to a footnote in patriarchy’s book of excuses. Parker called it what it was.
“she died
because he loved her
he said.
loved her to death.”
This wasn’t metaphor. It was testimony. Her poem became a protest chant at feminist rallies, a battle cry against a legal system built to forgive men and forget women.
And it still echoes today, in courtrooms, on protest signs, in the mouths of those who refuse to let silence bury the truth.
---
3. Danez Smith “Dear White America” (2014)
Letter or Molotov? Depends who reads it.
Smith was done explaining. This wasn’t a poem written with hope that whiteness would understand. This was a departure. A galactic fuck-you to the gravitational pull of systemic racism.
“I’ve left Earth in search of darker planets,
a solar system that lets my body burn
the way it was born to.”
Some white critics called it divisive. Smith called it prophecy. It wasn’t written for safety. It was written for survival.
---
4. Julio Salgado “Undocumented and Awkward” (2010s–present)
Cartoon body. Real target.
Salgado's visual poetry doesn't try to ease you in. It laughs in your face, then asks why you’re laughing. Queer, undocumented, and loud about it he doesn’t want your sympathy. He wants your systems dismantled.
“I don’t want your pity. I want your damn policies to change.”
His art and poetry have been banned from classrooms. That’s not censorship, it’s fear. Because when the undocumented speak with beauty and fire, the system realizes how fragile its paperwork really is.
---
5. Andrea Gibson “Your Life” and the Gendered Body of War
Tenderness turned sharp.
Andrea Gibson doesn’t read poems. They exhale them. Grief, transness, cancer, suicide, rage, they carry it all in their throat, and somehow still speak gently.
“Your life is a prayer your demons can’t even touch.”
Their performances have been protested. Books pulled. Invitations revoked. Not because of violence but because truth this soft shouldn’t be allowed to hurt this much.
They remind us that sometimes the whisper is the sharpest blade in the drawer.
---
Closing: The Mouth as Matchbook
Every generation inherits both a microphone and a muzzle.
These poets refused the muzzle.
They chose to speak when silence was cheaper. They chose danger. They chose language that makes statues nervous and lawmakers sweat. They asked not for applause. but reckoning.
And whether through page, mic, or paintbrush
they lit matches.
Let this be the record.
Let this be the reminder:
Poetry doesn’t always soothe.
Sometimes, it sets the house on fire.
The Fire in the Mouth: A Spoken History of Modern American Poetic Uprising
By Bear Sage
---
Introduction: Where There’s Smoke, There’s a Mouth Full of Fire
In America, the poet has often stood at the edge of the fire line mouth full of smoke and prophecy, daring to speak something dangerous into the nation’s sacred myths.
This isn’t a history of peace.
This is a catalog of friction. A montage of moments when language wasn't for hearts but for hammers. When the poet didn't beg to be heard, they dared the silence to swallow them whole.
These are not your classroom poets.
These are incendiaries.
---
1. Amiri Baraka “Somebody Blew Up America” (2001)
Poet Laureate. Truth grenade.
Baraka stood in the dust and rage of post-9/11 America and did what few dared, he asked questions. Not soft ones. Not safe ones. His poem didn’t just grieve, it accused. He pointed fingers at history, empire, and silence.
“Who? Who do you know
that’s been paid off to turn their head the other way?”
Baraka didn’t blame blindly. He ripped open the fabric of power and dared people to look at what was stitched underneath. In return, the state tried to silence him not with rebuttal, but erasure. New Jersey eliminated the entire role of poet laureate just to make sure he’d never wear the crown again.
That’s the power of a poem that doesn’t ask for approval.
---
2. Pat Parker “Womanslaughter” (1978, revived in 2010s)
Blood doesn’t lie, and neither did she.
When Pat Parker’s sister was murdered by her husband, the law called it “manslaughter.” One year in prison. A life reduced to a footnote in patriarchy’s book of excuses. Parker called it what it was.
“she died
because he loved her
he said.
loved her to death.”
This wasn’t metaphor. It was testimony. Her poem became a protest chant at feminist rallies, a battle cry against a legal system built to forgive men and forget women.
And it still echoes today, in courtrooms, on protest signs, in the mouths of those who refuse to let silence bury the truth.
---
3. Danez Smith “Dear White America” (2014)
Letter or Molotov? Depends who reads it.
Smith was done explaining. This wasn’t a poem written with hope that whiteness would understand. This was a departure. A galactic fuck-you to the gravitational pull of systemic racism.
“I’ve left Earth in search of darker planets,
a solar system that lets my body burn
the way it was born to.”
Some white critics called it divisive. Smith called it prophecy. It wasn’t written for safety. It was written for survival.
---
4. Julio Salgado “Undocumented and Awkward” (2010s–present)
Cartoon body. Real target.
Salgado's visual poetry doesn't try to ease you in. It laughs in your face, then asks why you’re laughing. Queer, undocumented, and loud about it he doesn’t want your sympathy. He wants your systems dismantled.
“I don’t want your pity. I want your damn policies to change.”
His art and poetry have been banned from classrooms. That’s not censorship, it’s fear. Because when the undocumented speak with beauty and fire, the system realizes how fragile its paperwork really is.
---
5. Andrea Gibson “Your Life” and the Gendered Body of War
Tenderness turned sharp.
Andrea Gibson doesn’t read poems. They exhale them. Grief, transness, cancer, suicide, rage, they carry it all in their throat, and somehow still speak gently.
“Your life is a prayer your demons can’t even touch.”
Their performances have been protested. Books pulled. Invitations revoked. Not because of violence but because truth this soft shouldn’t be allowed to hurt this much.
They remind us that sometimes the whisper is the sharpest blade in the drawer.
---
Closing: The Mouth as Matchbook
Every generation inherits both a microphone and a muzzle.
These poets refused the muzzle.
They chose to speak when silence was cheaper. They chose danger. They chose language that makes statues nervous and lawmakers sweat. They asked not for applause. but reckoning.
And whether through page, mic, or paintbrush
they lit matches.
Let this be the record.
Let this be the reminder:
Poetry doesn’t always soothe.
Sometimes, it sets the house on fire.
SmokingFap
Gentlemanly pervert
- Joined
- Oct 6, 2022
- Posts
- 11,941
Hi sweetheart! So glad to see you again. I'm talking to our mutual friend now and she says that you're doing good these days. I hope you'll reach out to me directly.
Forever and no matter what, Jen.
Similar threads
