Abstract Language

Abstract Language! When I revise I look at what sections of my poem are too abstract and try to come up with some way to replace the section with figurative language without losing to much of the meaning. You don’t want your poem to be predictable, but you don’t want it to be indecipherable either.  This is especially important with a spoken word piece. Your audience needs to be able to understand what you are talking about. It’s a fine line to walk.

Abstractions are not always evil, just mostly evil. If you are using the abstraction in a new and unique way it probably is fine to keep it the way it is. In some ways poetry is a way of viewing abstractions in new and unique ways. A love poem helps us see love in a new and personal light. The same is true with poems about death etc. So maybe the abstraction works. Use your best judgment, if you can’t decide err on scratching the abstraction. Lets look at a bad poem I am working on:

Mother’s milk laps upon the sheets

While we are all greeted by infinities <—-  this looks like an abstraction that needs to be removed and explored through concrete language.

Hear the call of primordial streets

Our places of learning are factories,

I a product without purpose

An order lying on a shelf

All my metaphors commodify

Reduce my worth to wealth <—-  I think this abstraction is a keeper. Maybe its cliché. What do you think?

We yoked ourselves to agriculture, <—– I think this one is OK as well.

Multiplied and made peace with the sword

Civilization is a vulture,

 That shits pop rocks, pizza, and soft porn. <—– This last part is just bad and I will rewrite it till I like it

Check out this link for more info on abstract language

Link

Cracker The third.

Do you practice condensation or concision when you revise your poetry? Find out if you fit into one of these two camps, or none of the above at this thoughtful post by poet Scott Edward Anderson (That includes a great poem)  here.

Today we are finally going to get into editing and improving trouble lines. By that I mean those pesky lines that derail the flow of your poem. After the revisions that I have made I feel that this poem is getting close to the point where I would feel comfortable sharing it with an audience at my local slam. Please comment on the changes and let me know if you think that the new revision is better or worse than the last and tell me why (I know it’s a lot to ask for on these internets).

Let’s get down to the nity grity! I made a rather critical post last week about the conventions that are taught as gospel on college campuses concerning creative writing. Today I am going to have to eat some of those words (without invalidating my argument by the way), because I feel that there is too much abstraction at the beginning of my poem. So I have exercised the line “I, the product of white flight” and replaced it with the more concrete image of “I, my White folks beat feet” which I feel is more lyrical and concrete. Even though I love the phrase “White Flight” for its inherent Poetry I feel that the new line is better for the reasons described above.

The next lines I looked at were “pure intention” and “poorly chosen words”. These lines are simple straight to the point and maybe worth keeping, but for this revision I opted for more figurative language so they are now replaced with: “intentions like water” “but words that burn”.

Gash has a connotation that I don’t want anywhere near my poem and I could not find a suitable replacement so that bit has been removed entirely.

This concludes my commentary about the bulk of the changes that I have made. I have been thinking about adding more biblical imagery which led to the new lines concerning Passover.

Lastly I still need to come up with a more effective creation to replace “smiling at dark faces” and “still singles out race” because the message is good, yet to literal for maximum impact. Maybe my hand full of readers might be kind enough to help me brainstorm some ideas.

Finally I am proud to present the new re-envisioning of Cracker

Cracker

I, my white folks beat feet

He, the product of able bodies

Me, my name is Cobb

He, his name was Cobbs

My intentions like water

But with words that burn

Shed light on ignorance

Reopen old wounds

Wounds that pass-over, yet passed on to sacrificial children

Wounds that over-look the shades of sharecroppers’ fields

Feels, now my tongue now the lash

A rash, realization

Of past realities is robbing me of the breath that my name betrayed.

It starts with the blood. Like verse from the book. That speaks of the sin which our fathers partook.

Now stains the hands of the son.

The mark of Cain cannot be whitewashed…

Our intentions are in question

Smiling cause they’re dark

Perpetuate crimes through kindness

Seldom, letting dark souls just be soul

Lord knows, my ignorance and stupidity has often come back to label me, cracker.

And I say “god”.

If I’m a cracker

I want to be an animal cracker

Oh yes Jesus

Make me a cookie

You see, cookies only have wet backs when you lick them. Colors mean flavors and nothing more. Parents don’t care if you love the dark ones.

The many sizes and shapes are all sweet and you never have to worry about the macaroons attacking the pecan-sandies for their shelf space.

I wonder can you be institutionalized for expressing a desire to be snack food?

If that’s the greater absurdity

Then I confess my insanity

Because I never want to relive the shame I felt when I learned why you never call a black man boy.

Cracker II: Return of the saltine!

 

I must say the first draft was rough! For inspiration, and some idea’s on how to proceed, I did a little searching on the web and found two really nice sites.

Writters Digest Magazine:

has a really great article on poetry revision  http://www.writersdigest.com/writing-articles/by-writing-genre/poetry/some_thoughts_on_poetry_revision.

Sheila Packa Poetry Blog:

Also has a nice post on revision http://sheilapacka.blogspot.com/2011/12/revision-and-body.html.

Now, as for that pesky poem. I decided to remove some of the more preachy elements and concentrate on alteration and rhythm. Writer’s Digest recommends maintaining the spirit of the poem and doing as many revisions as it takes to distill the poem into it’s purest rendition. I believe that this is essential for Slam poetry and spoken word. Be careful that you don’t cut any snap worthy lines (more on that later). Since this is a spoken word piece, It will remain free-form. The cadence of the piece bounces around a lot almost like jazz. It should not be to confusing as long as I practice my delivery but I might want to go with less transitions and a more uniform structure in the next revision. I have spaced the poem in a way to try and maintain the tempo for delivery. I understand that the subject of the poem might be off putting to some of you, but I like to work with real emotion and this often involves real issues. Feel free to comment below.

I, the product of white flight

He, the product of able bodies

Me, my name is Cobb, he his name was Cobbs

Pure intention,

poorly chosen words,

shed light on ignorance,

reopened old wounds

Wounds,

more vast then sharecropper’s fields,

Feels, now my tongue now the lash.

Gash,

A gash in flesh, a gash in time,

Realization,

Of past realities is robbing me of breath that my name betrayed.

It starts with sins of the blood. Like verse from the book. that speaks about the sins which fathers partook. It stains like blood, passed down to the son.

This mark of Cain cannot be whitewashed..

To the victim I would call friend.

To the products of white flight.

Our intentions are in question

smiling at dark faces,

still singles out race,

perpetuating crimes through kindness,

seldom letting dark soul just be soul.

 

Lord knows, my ignorance and stupidity has often come back to haunt me, and in these moments some have rightly labeled me cracker

And I say God,

if Im a cracker,

I want to be an animal Cracker.

Oh yes!

“Jesus,

if you can hear me, make me a cookie”

You see, cookies only have wet backs when you lick them. Colors mean flavors and nothing more. Parents don’t care if you love the dark ones.

The many sizes and shapes are all sweet and you never have to worry about the macaroons attacking the pecan sandies for their shelf space.

I wonder can you be institutionalized for expressing a desire to be snack food? If that is the greater absurdity, I confess my insanity, so fit me with the white jacket with the fashionable straps and throw away the key.

Because I never want to relive the shame that I felt when I learned why you never call a black man boy.

 

Cracker

okay, first post. This is kind of exciting. I will be attending an event the first Friday of next month. There will be more information to follow as soon as I get it. So standby, dear reader. In the meantime, here’s the first spoken word piece up for review. The next post in this thread will be the first steps that I take to revise his rough draft and get ready for future performance. I look forward to your comments!

Cracker

Pure intention, poorly chosen words

Have shed light on my ignorance and reopened old wounds more vast then the fields that were planted by sharecropper’s hands my tongue now the lash.

Realization strikes at my core robbing me of breath that so recently betrayed me

Keyed from the flash of rage or pain reflected in the eyes of a victim I would call friend

To late in life did I receive a minority education not the kind that is underfunded by the state, but the kind of education not expressed in the curriculum for suburban white boys who can count the number of people of color they know on one hand. The product of white flight.

It starts with sins of the blood. Like verse from the book that speaks about the sins of the father passed down to the son, some sins are so great they transcend the perpetrators and stain the past refusing  to be buried and are carried like the mark of Cain into the future.

But know this smiling at dark faces,

To elevate your guilt still singles out race,

Being nice to prove you have overcome the faults of your ancestors does the same,

We perpetuate our crimes through what we see as kindness and seldom let a dark soul just be a soul.

Know this to, you will never know a day in another’s shoes and you should not presume to. There are those who would say I am as guilty today speaking about issues we would rather let lie.

Lord knows my ignorance and stupidity has often come back to haunt me and in these moments some have rightly labeled me cracker

And I say God if Im a cracker, I want to be an animal Cracker.

Oh yes!“Jesus if you can hear me make me a cookie”

You see, cookies only have wet backs if you lick them. Colors mean flavors and nothing more. Parents don’t care if you love the dark ones.

The many sizes and shapes are all sweet and you never have to worry about the macaroons attacking the pecan sandies for their shelf space.

I wonder can you be institutionalized for expressing a desire to be snack food? If that is the greater absurdity then fit me with the white jacket with the fashionable straps and throw away the key. Because I never want to relive the shame that I felt when I learned why you never call a black man boy.

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Check back next Thursday to see what I have done with this thing!