"Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood" - T S Eliot

I've been reading some poetry by T S Eliot lately. I like his work alot, but I don't really understand much of it! Still, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock will always be one of my favourite poems. There are things in it that I don't get, but it's one of those poems that can be appreciated for its sheer beauty, despite how much, or in my case little, you're able to understand. There's this casual elegance in the way he phrases things. I can't say more, except that I simply love this poem. 

Here's one of my favourite bits:

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
- T S Eliot, The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock

How do you do it, Mr Eliot?

Colour Me Quick

I'm wearing skinny blue jeans
And a loose white vest,
Dark smudgy eyes
And hair that's a mess.
My feet are soft bare
And my knees are blue bruised.
I smell of alcohol, cigarettes and you.

I'm peering into my mirror, biting my lips red,
Yesterdays eyes are staring black with regret.

I feel like faded denim,
A ghost of a dream.
A sprig of no berry,
A wisp of something unseen.
A whitewashed poppy,
An everyday laugh.
A blemished smile,
Or old hurt from the past.

An ending's too easy.
So I'm pacing in greyscale,
Watching my colours ebb out...
Yearning the next sparkling night
When I colour me in again,
Make myself vibrant again,
Like crisping the crusts off a shiner
When I colour myself coloured
With my all-inducing crayons.

...and then I read Vogue

Right now I wish I was back in 1997, reading the Wizard of Oz in my school library. Actually, not the original Wizard of Oz, the one about the pumpkin man and a boy called...Tim? I have no idea. I just remember enjoying that book. The Faraway Tree books were pretty great as well. I have coursework to do right now, not to mention revision to begin. Because yes, as usual, I haven't begun studying for the exams that are considered pretty important by most normal people. It's not that I can't be bothered...well actually in a way I suppose it is...But it's getting started that's the hardest. I have too many distractions. I was even flicking through Vogue today - yes, I was trying that hard not to study.

But actually, what I discovered is that Vogue is a pretty cool magazine. Aesthetically, it's amazing. All those glossy designer ads are really quite pleasing to look at. And yeah, I'm never, ever going to be able to afford anything featured in that magazine...but it's nice to flick through and just look at some very pretty things. It's a kind of artistic celebration of beauty. And hey, they do have some interesting articles. Oh and there was an ad for designer pajamas (yep, they even have those), and the model in it was holding a book by Edgar Allan Poe - respect! Not all bad. And some of the models weren't conventionally beautiful. They had wild, dramatic make up, crazy hair and outlandish clothes...Some of those images can be quite inspirational. And no, not inspirational in the sense that I'm thinking of going out daubed in war paint and wearing a paint-splattered balloon of a dress..but artistically inspirational. Like, if I was able to draw out my thoughts I'd end up with seriously cool surrealist kind of paintings. Inspired by Vogue. Hmm...

Whatever the real intentions of the magazine are - you know, being all commercial; making you feel so insecure you want to run out and buy the products they feature - well, whatever. Everything doesn't have to be viewed the way it was intended to be. I saw it artistically, perhaps naively...Maybe it's all purely superficial and decadent. Again, whatever. I probably oppose it on principle and what not, but that doesn't stop me from enjoying the pictures and appreciating some real good displays of creativity.

Or maybe I should just take the rose-tinted glasses off.

Morality Is A Word

Ethics,
You say,
Are what we must live by;
They define us, they are us.

Ethics?
I ask.
I used to have them.
I think I still do, I'm not quite sure.
Ethics, morality. Me, you. Truth, lies.
I'm confused.
Today I have morals.
Tomorrow I don't.
The day after I might...
Who knows.

Changeable as a wind vane -
And far too capricious,
You say.

I know,
I say.
I vacillate, violate, deviate;
An aimless feather of something. Maybe nothing.
Who knows.

Wrong feels right and
Pleasure is a ticking clock.
Morality is a word and
I'm somewhere, nowhere, in between.