I have no idea if Henry Rollins said that, but I’ve heard him say a lot of other things that would sort of corroborate your story, haha.
I have seen the ink and blood connection from many writers—the one quote that immediately comes to mind is Hemingway’s sitting down to bleed when approaching the writing apparatus. The interesting thing is there is often still the pen—the blood filled pen or typewriter, in these metaphors. But, here it’s just this self-contained universe where all is already within the writer and regardless of what tools there are, the words will always find a way to become tangibility.
The impulse to create is such a primally human thing. The cave paintings of so some days ago show us as much, and then there’s the remnants of art from ancient civilizations all over the world—the ancient myths, orally passed along for many years, that still linger among us in spite of the myriad ways our civilizations have changed.
So, Rollins gets it. In his gruff and direct way. And even if it wasn’t him, as your poem poses the question, the spirit is there and attributed and enough to connect us to a sort of creative hive mind where we all see an expression and instantly understand the heart of it and its immediacy and urgency.
It’s like your club membership badge, this understanding. If you don’t understand what Rollins meant, maybe you’re not a true member of the club, haha. Maybe the quote could be a password for the writers’ secret clubhouse.
I’ll get to work on building that right away. Cool wee poem, Gram.
Posted 4 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
4 Years Ago
thanks Eilis, aye Mr Rollins is a very insular society, a circle of one, as he himself has said , th.. read morethanks Eilis, aye Mr Rollins is a very insular society, a circle of one, as he himself has said , that urge to write create art, be understood has been with us through the ages of time, using what ever we have whether it be a faded hand print on some cave or blood smeared poems on asylum walls, the urge to find expression those who write will always write those who paint will always paint and those who howl incoherently at the moon will do so until the moon is gone, thanks so much for enjoying this cool wee poem, always appreciate your thoughts,
I have no idea if Henry Rollins said that, but I’ve heard him say a lot of other things that would sort of corroborate your story, haha.
I have seen the ink and blood connection from many writers—the one quote that immediately comes to mind is Hemingway’s sitting down to bleed when approaching the writing apparatus. The interesting thing is there is often still the pen—the blood filled pen or typewriter, in these metaphors. But, here it’s just this self-contained universe where all is already within the writer and regardless of what tools there are, the words will always find a way to become tangibility.
The impulse to create is such a primally human thing. The cave paintings of so some days ago show us as much, and then there’s the remnants of art from ancient civilizations all over the world—the ancient myths, orally passed along for many years, that still linger among us in spite of the myriad ways our civilizations have changed.
So, Rollins gets it. In his gruff and direct way. And even if it wasn’t him, as your poem poses the question, the spirit is there and attributed and enough to connect us to a sort of creative hive mind where we all see an expression and instantly understand the heart of it and its immediacy and urgency.
It’s like your club membership badge, this understanding. If you don’t understand what Rollins meant, maybe you’re not a true member of the club, haha. Maybe the quote could be a password for the writers’ secret clubhouse.
I’ll get to work on building that right away. Cool wee poem, Gram.
Posted 4 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
4 Years Ago
thanks Eilis, aye Mr Rollins is a very insular society, a circle of one, as he himself has said , th.. read morethanks Eilis, aye Mr Rollins is a very insular society, a circle of one, as he himself has said , that urge to write create art, be understood has been with us through the ages of time, using what ever we have whether it be a faded hand print on some cave or blood smeared poems on asylum walls, the urge to find expression those who write will always write those who paint will always paint and those who howl incoherently at the moon will do so until the moon is gone, thanks so much for enjoying this cool wee poem, always appreciate your thoughts,
Caged In An Animal's Mind
Caged in an animal's mind;
No wish to be more or else
Than I am; a smile and a grief
Of breath that thinks with its blood,
Yet straining despite; unsure
In my stir .. more..