I have always had this vision of fashioning a collective of Misfit Creatives, a gathering of poetic deviants and literary savants who want to usher in the next literary movement. A beatnik revival, and a homage to the romanticist movement. A coming back to the classics, and an ode to counter-culture. A prescription against conformity. A movement against the Rupi-Kaur coded, minimalistic, bite-sized, insta-poetry of today. Instead, the ideal literary revolution exists as a homage to archaic poetry at its prime. Where poets are angels and artists of any medium are saints. In this “Church of Poetry” all participants are prescribed the classics, and beat generation literature.
Here is an excerpt from a manuscript of mine that is in the making, titled “Field Guide of My Mind” It is a myriad of dabbles on places that exist only within my inner world.
“The rank of artists was the highest duty, they manifested the laws of the land and wrote the world. Through them they enacted The Chapel of Ill Repute, otherwise known as the Church of Poetry. Their patron saint ranged from the earth prophet William Blake to the copal poet Allen Ginsberg. The beats were made into angels, as they fashioned the vision. House psychedelics were prescribed as medicine and they emphasized introspection for inspiration. The sky of the chapel was collaged, painted in oil pastel and gouache, pilfered stickered stars and spray paint. Every art was inaugurated, and the act of creation was a sort of prayer. The holiest liquid could be pillaged from the third eye basin, a mix of Sangria and Lilac syrup. In the bible of beercan visions, fractal beings were cherubim, alongside plant devas and archetypes. Hedonists, muses, and poets were deemed deities. Slinky jazz sang the sacred sounds and shoegaze the heavenly hymn. Divine sensuality through a tantra-like means was everywhere. With Renoiresque bodies hung from the ceilings, living and livid, and Rilkean words hung from strings beside them for brain-collaging. Mea vulva mea maxima vulva! Were the chants of the degenerates and the Dionysiacs. Temples of sin raised up in their being, writing manifestos in dead language. They birthed their own niche cyphers, maudlin and mythopoetic. Their scripture Baudelaire, Rilke, Durrell, and Kandel. The cathedral was a library, even the congregation itself.”
-Harley Claes
So here is some authors I recommend, a blueprint for the revival of a literary revolution. An analog, anachronistic revival.
The Beats:
Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac
Lenore Kandel, Bob Kaufman, D.A. Levy
The Classics:
Charles Baudelaire, Rainer Maria Rilke, Anais Nin,
Henry Miller, Antonin Artaud
Vladimir Nabokov, Lawrence Durrell
The counter-cultural scripts:
The Buddhist Third Class Junkmail Oracle
Thee Temple of Psychick Youth writings
If you are interested in this movement, or communicating or collaborating in general, email me at angelicalravings@gmail.com
Clarice lispector