Poetry of Mad Men – Kierkegaard & Pierre Reverdy


“Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.”

– Mad Men


“vague dissatisfaction, a sense of no remedy, no salvation, a foreboding of nothingness” – do you feel it?

“The person in the aesthetic stage basks in the immediacy of the moment. The pursuit of sensations and feelings rooted in particular pleasures defines this stage of life. Detached from firm commitment to the extent possible and governed by sense, impulse, and emotion, Kierkegaard’s aesthetic person recognizes no fixed, universal moral standards. Instead, aesthetic persons strive for the absence of all limits, except those imposed by their own tastes. Boredom is taken to be the worst evil. Immersing themselves in pleasure, whether sensual or intellectual, aesthetic people live overwhelmingly for the moment, in search of yet another self-gratifying experience.”

– from the Wall Street Journal.


I have lost the secret given me
I no longer know anything

For a moment I believed that that could go
Nothing remains any longer
This is a man without feet who wishes to run
A woman with no head who would like to talk
A child with hardly any eyes only for crying

However I have seen you depart
You were already distant
A trumpet sounded
A mob shouted
And you, you did not turn around

We have a long road to follow, step by step
We will walk it together

I detest your smiling face
The hand that you extend to me
And your sucked in stomach so old
You are just like me

On my return I did not receive anything
No one gives me anything
All is spent

A useless piece of decoration
In the night

– The finished ruin, Pierre Reverdy

We imitate people from hot climates
And forget not to trust nature
And the times shed this too-long peace
That looks like the end of the world
We are all part of the source of civilization
One will understand too late the danger of imitation
The strange combat no longer exists
The principle characters are lost
But the closed house is like ourselves
An intimacy that no one knows
Searches outside curiosity
And our hypocrisy
the fear of each other

The dog guards it

– Facade, Pierre Reverdy



Just one beam is enough
Just one burst of laughter
My joy that shakes the house
Restrains those wanting to die
By the notes of its song

I sing off-key
Ah it’s funny
My mouth open to every breeze
Spews mad notes everywhere
That emerge I don’t know how
To fly toward other ears

Listen I’m not crazy
I laugh at the bottom of the stairs
Before the wide-open door
In the sunlight scattered
On the wall among green vines
And my arms are held out toward you

It’s today I love you

– For the moment, Pierre Reverdy

“Reverdy went beyond Cubist desolation to express a profound spiritual doubt and his sense of mystery in the universe forever beyond his understanding. These were the years in which surrealism took flight and Reverdy partly inspired it. In the first Surrealist Manifesto, André Breton hailed Reverdy as “the greatest poet of the time,” and Louis Aragon said that for Breton, Soupault, Éluard and himself, Reverdy was “our immediate elder, the exemplary poet.” – Read More.

 

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