The beauty of poetry, as with anything, is in the eye of the beholder, but the definition of poetry itself is quite broad. It aims to convey some idea, or maybe some unique stylistic choice, or maybe nothing at all, which is somewhat significant by itself. To that end, there are several forms of poetry: sonnets, haikus, ballades. However, to me, there is none more interesting than those free of form, freeform poetry.
For some reason or another, poets are rebels and anarchists. They take the well structured, well defined languages of the modern era and ignore it, choosing instead to focus on merely its objects; words. Nonetheless, some poets are better at it than others. Is there a “correct” way to tear apart the very fundamentals of human communication? If not, how far can we take it?
Clearly the second question is much more interesting than the first, so let’s assume for sake of my own amusement that there certainly is not a correct way to unravel the fabric of society and that there certainly is not an incorrect way to do so. With that in mind, allow me to introduce my good friend and longtime companion, Bayes Boll.
Handsome lad, isn’t he? He’s a lovely poet as well. With a magnificent glee as he tears across the keyboard in a frenzied fervor, dastardly tarnishing its sleek design, he writes in seconds what the greatest poets could never have even dreamed to create.
An example, if you will:
“Apwdkfp”
Bayes Boll
Awadwojpw adpok wapoj opwopiefaowo wpoiaw poijfpep moiamew aoipa
Apwdadw wdfakjpo aodfjawp eoe impi japoi po jawa ewp oijawpoe ipjoipoi aw ef
Apw fwp apf paoafw epofeawj oewafjapowkdjfawip mewpohzopkjpo
Awpdjaf okfew p faewj paofewawoi
Awpodf opkdwj afwp fwipojfp awoeipfow ijaepfoiajewopf ajpo
Awpfkj poadwjkpo dfjajwpofeopfapo wekjfpoawfjdafwopdwfjpoiw
Kw dpofpao weijfopawfkdfjo poeiwjfpoja wopfajweopo awiepfowij poeafjawfokjao
Apowkje opafwka jwepo iawjfopaw eajwfo paweij fawep
Apwokfjapo wjfpwaodifpoawek jfpoaewij
Awpfojawefjaop
Ap
Truly fantastic, now allow us to analyze this poem. I find it quite significant that this poem is structured into three stanzas, the first two are quatrains, the third being the sole outlier with only three lines, a clear demonstration of his moral but unsatisfied plea for self gratification.
His creative and selective use of twice the number of spaces is reminiscent of the fate enforced rift of acceptance and reality, the daredevil triple space in the third stanza truly nailing home the singularity of his struggle, and how such insignificance ultimately is the sole cause for innate corruption.
Not to mention each line starts with the vowel “A”, save for the 7th line, his creative use of the consonant character “K” showing that the sharp inconsistencies in his life does not have an effect on his stream of consciousness and strong determination.
Now while at first glance, his poem might appear to be utter nonsense, as I have explained, it is quite the opposite, and, while perhaps not to this extent, sometimes poetry feels a lot like that: nonsense. Is it okay for a poem to be nonsensical if it was made with purpose and the intent to exhibit creativity? I’d think so.
Poetry isn’t so much about interpretation or understanding (although that’s a nice bonus) as it is about expression. Bayes Boll, as shown through his poem, is clearly conflicted, and upon interviewing him, he told me a little about his inspiration for this work of art.
He began with his life story, a sad tale about being forced to leave his family and being thrown around by grown men with no other apparent ambition than to throw him harder and harder. More heartbreaking, he described how he was bullied by the local gang, the Bad Bat Bandits (shown below).
He told us then that the poem was an outcry of his anguish, an anger of which stemmed from a lifetime of abuse and neglect, a hunger for relief that was satiated by his poetry and his art. Oh, and that the spaces were an accident because he was typing too fast.
In retrospect, our perfectly logical interpretation that made complete and total sense was completely and totally wrong, and that’s perfectly okay. As consumers of poetry rather than authors, there’s a certain due diligence that must be conducted to respect the work as it is, because even if it is misunderstood, it was created with intrinsic purpose and not explicit purpose. In other words, poetry is written by the poet for the poet, and for others to get a glimpse of the poet’s world.
And don’t worry; no baseballs were harmed in the writing of this blog.
Erin,
When I clicked on this blog, this was certainly not what I was anticipating reading. Though I do have to say, the premediated genius of Bayes Boll really hit me in the heart. A true icon of our generation. All jokes aside, I do understand the point you are trying to prove here; can you take literary anarchy too far?
While I cannot speak to this concept within the literature, I can in visual art. There is an artist, Craig Damrauer, who created a sum which goes like this. Modern art = I could do that + yeah, but you didn’t. So, could you call Bayes Boll’s poem art? You could. sure, anyone could do that, but they didn’t, and so that poem is art. I think the point where I have to draw the line is trying to derive meaning from it. While we have a unique perspective as we understand the making of the poem, I understand your sarcastic remarks on the English teacher that thinks everything is a symbol. To that I say, maybe everything is a symbol. I am firmly in the thought that it doesn’t matter what the author/poet intended. it only matters what the reader can derive from it. so let Bayes Bolly go wild. Someone will always find meaning in his poems, even if it isn’t what he originally wanted.