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все-таки, начал еще со школы, т.е. с 16-17, но это было просто развлечением, типа:
а Сытько, мешок с клопами,
надоел болтать ногами.
это на лекции по математике было как сейчас помню (я учился в физ-мат лицее, так что лекции были с 8-го класса, причем школа, как ни странно, была с эстетическим уклоном, так что всему научили :), самому не верится потому, что не помню, например, многих вещей, которые происходили на последнем курсе универа, e.g.
так вот, это было, по ходу, самым первым опытом. причем так в тему это там было, млин, как вспомню все это, так хочется обратно, что чуть ли не слезы из глаз.
эта цифра - это много или мало для тебя? ничего особенного в этом нет. я же не говорю, что написал около двух тысяч поэм. за стихотворение можно считать и четверостишие, и вообще две строчки, первые были вообще просто смешные, их можно вообще не рассматривать, но они есть, это тренировочные, пробные и т.д. а пушкин, я уверен, написал не меньше, так же, как и остальные. писательство - это тоже работа, только наверх автор позволяет всплывать самому лучшему, а все черновое пылится на чердаке и никто этого не видит. так же, как и когда музыканты пишут альбомы, сначала пишется большое количество песен, буквально каждый риф и каждая нота записывается, а потом все это дело просматривается и отбирается самое лучшее (я в этом участвовал, так что можно верить). это естественный процесс. если пишешь мало - мало и опыта, не набьешь руку никогда.
бывает, целый месяц ничего не пишешь, а потом - по пять каждый день выходят из тебя. это зависит от многих факторов, в том числе и от интенсивности самой твоей жизни. если будешь лежать на диване и плевать в потолок ни о чем не думая, понятно, что ничего ты не напишешь.
если руслана и людмилу поделить на стихотворения строф по 6 хотя бы, получится внушительное количество. однако пушкин - гений, а я не могу такие масштабные произведения писать, я себя никем не выставляю, просто кое-что в этом понимаю, и не только по своим рассуждениям.
самое впечатлительное, что у меня произошло, связанное с писательством - это когда пришло приглашение ехать на конгресс какой-то поэтический в нью-йорк, я когда письмо бумажное(!) из ящика достал, так и осел по стенке, натурально, просто офигел, если это слово здесь уместно. и вот за что туда меня пригласили:
idiot box - очень широко распространенное в США презрительное название телевизора.
idiot box.
you think your child's aggressive,
you don't know what to do?
he's stupid, not impressive
with so bad memory.
to know you're using bookmarks
to know you want to see
your children tear weakness
to see or not to see.
you raise your child only
when adds on your TV
you gossip about owners
you're nothing in CV.
and you believe that makers
you trust that fakers talks
you're scared your chid's agressive
stop watching idiot box.
и второе:
looking through walls.
And it was a summer day when all the birds were singing and I had to made my choice and no one shouldn't prevent me from this. Voices around me were calm and conscious but it was just a feeling of deep silence and I heard the main part of the monologue that was flowing from anywhere. It was speaking about my every little secret and I was so excited that someone knows about me, and I was smiling and light. That was like I have met what I wish and it came to me so accidentally that I held breathing and was listening to this words like hypnotized. I was standing on the cornice and looking down at the street where all my life have crashed and in a moment become useless and I thought then about good and evil, about Devil and about Ohrmazd, I was thinking about what I can't reach and what I have reached and that there's much more than it is. I was looking at the weird people who suddenly become so small and funny, like germs, like cockroaches, that are so busy with empty thimgs that don't notice when they die. They suddenly started to care about me, they saw me and they were telling one to another that I have always been such a good boy, studied good, never drinking, never crazy whores in my house, such respectable friends visited me, such a good work I had and so helpful and good I was. Something closed my ears and all their voices started to drift away and it was so pleasant to feel unusual warm that was going through my body and sweet kisses that I felt on my cheeks were from a divine girl that I was dreaming about for all my life. I thought I found everything I was looking for on this Earth and nothing could take away all this from me. I felt myself alive, I felt myself like never before and I tried to breathe with all my lungs. She told me that this peace will never be repeated and everything will be so bad and cursed that no one will want to see and to get that inside. Something took my hand and pushed me forward, but I didn't gave a way to its temptation and kept on standing. I was dreaming further. I have passed it and she was behind me. I saw that light that was so far, but it seemed so easy to go there, that she, she became nothing to me and I was so amazed, that never saw it before, although I looked there everyday like knew that something is going to happen. It was ours and now I took her hand and made a step towards him. I felt that I am in his hands and tears were in my eyes. I heard my mouth was saying something but I couldn't believe I can speak so, that was a soft and warm river and the water was as a doe's. I thought that simplicity is the most difficult to understand. I was speaking easy like never before and the words didn't see the end. He was like my dead friend and I wasn't scared to let my tongue run away with me. I thought I was sleeping. But never.
Look out, look out, there's people moving
They're all in hurry, make a way,
Away, away from here to glue this
I tried to hide and lose my hate.
Put on the silk and hold a fire
Put on the hauberk, sheathe your blade
I'm on the wind to catch your wire
I am so close that feel your breath.
I took it all and still I'm taking,
I saw it all and want to see,
I threw it all but now collecting,
I wasn't there where I say "we".
You are all here with steady breakfast,
You came in here not to relay
I won't let you without darkness,
I cannot tell the latest tale.
You're here and see, don't sleep and don't speak
I'll take your hand when it'll be near,
You'll feel my touch like something real
If I get a right to be free.
это тоже считаю поэтически сильным:
lattitude.
We will make you think right way,
Daughters, sons, sit down, OK.
Listen, never have to say,
Think direction prompted sway.
Be a dog in biolab,
Want to eat when spoon is got,
Follow finger, yes, like that,
Stop, no questions to in-crowd.
Holy cow, categorized,
All like one, calm, not surprised,
Look in book, the truth is found,
Catch the wave, no turn, no mind.
Prosthesized with common sense,
Thought is language, not the less,
Urban style last fashion dress,
Homo sapiens in mess.
Tethered - good, enveloped's - best,
Humanazed like written this,
Orient yourself to West,
Bear witness need to rest.
No opinion, never more,
Structured thinking, new is bore,
Comprehend what you belong,
What you thought - forget, it's wrong.
и это:
descendant.
It's a big and vital difference
And the boys can stop ignore
With their girls that put admittance
With their love they bring a bore.
Wilted roses keep the secrets
For the ox-eye daisies smart
Feeble minds and tribal whispers
Commonwealth of earthly lard.
Generating wounding gestures
Wilted give their devil fines
Dark halos like rings and cocktails
Pigmies roll dry turbid eyes.
From now doomed and healthy victims
Don't trust airily, keep all back,
If you notice any weakness,
Credulous, count x++.
а вообще в верхней части поста есть ссылка на сайт. |
