Posts Tagged ‘Outsider Poetry’

More Outsider Poetry By Thomas L. Vaultonburg

August 18, 2015

After my last blog entry, a mere five minutes ago, many people contacted me and asked me for more Outsider Poetry. Despite the fact, that like many others claiming the title of outsider poet, I didn’t even know what Outsider Poetry was two weeks ago, I felt as if I could oblige that request. So here you go. Outsider poetry by Thomas L. Vaultonburg.

Maritime Law by Thomas L. Vaultonburg

Maritime Law by Thomas L. Vaultonburg

It is fortunate I remembered this poem, from my book Detached Retinas, because it is one of my friend Tim’s favorite poems, and since he’s animating another poem from the book, “The Jackal,” for Fall Art Scene, I really should  frame this print and give it to him. I’m excited about the Jackal. He asked me what music might be appropriate for it, and I at first suggested Satie, but he eventually gravitated towards “Pop Goes the Weasel.” What really sucked about choosing that particular piece is that it doesn’t increase the word count of this blog at all and now I’m going to be at this all night.


Future Cliches

Tourists go to Mars, successful real estate developers go to Jupiter.

One download of SOMA a day will keep your aspirations of socialized yet effective health care away.

Treat a hologram like your wife and an automaton like a clone.

If water was wet everyone would drink it.

Behind every successful simulacrom is an androgenous lab assisstant.

It is what it is. Again.

Two megagigs may be enough to open a neuropeptide bar in Bakersfield, but it’s not going to get you into my pants.

In the future each one of us will be relieved of the enormous burden of fame our videocast has brought us for exactly fifteen minutes.

Only President Justin Bieber could go to China.

Bouge. You like that poem? I wrote it while sitting on the bank of the Rock River in a location that was an ancient Native American fishing village, then an artist’s colony for decades. Then they decided to put a bar and a dock there so a bunch of rich white assholes could pull up their boats and act like jagbags all summer long. You know where you can see more groovy Outsider Poetry like that? not quite blank. Back to my story: my brother bought that bar and for three summers I lived in the dive motel annexed to it, and occasionally sat on the bank of the Rock River thinking this place might have had some mystical mojo at some point before all this white trash floated ashore. Then I’d write a poem about Buck Owens and go in to work. It’s hard to complain that people are sinful boozehounds when they’re throwing around hundred dollar bills like Rick James at a Shoe Carnival. Sure, that didn’t make any sense, but you weren’t reading it any way. The rain has stopped outside, and I just heard the five year old sneeze, so yay let influenza season begin. Three more words.

Several New Outsider Poetry Magazines Spring Up

August 18, 2015

While I have been sitting here all summer waiting for Straight Outta Compton to open, and for fantasy football season to begin, unbeknownst to me, several Outsider Poetry publications have sprung up online. The first, which I discovered just this afternoon while it was raining, is Outsider Poetry Magazine. Edited by Conservative talking head Charles Krauthammer, Outsider Poetry Magazine is a pleasant surprise to everyone who thinks Charles Krauthammer is a square and a little bit of a bite in the ass. He shows that he is not by including poetry by Thomas L. Vaultonburg, Scott Baio, and that kid from the Partridge Family. It must be apparent by now everything I am writing is complete nonsense and you’d be completely justified in tuning out.

Because there was no Cubs game today I had some time to read the internet, and while I was researching the topic of methods used to treat the mentally ill I saw The Journal of Outsider Poetry. The only disappointing things about this new psychological journal, which focuses on treatment of the mentally ill through poetry and art, is that for some reason Google indexed it with a lower case t in the word “the.” It’s unlikely they’ll ever change that.

It’s hard to say who the first Outsider Poet was. Maybe somebody like Walt Whitman. I have read some Medieval manuscripts chronicling the babbling of those supposedly possessed by demons, and a lot of it sounds like poetry. It is clear that since the beginning of art and the written word, those with mental illness have been writing in an attempt to exercise the “demons” of their mental illness, and just plain for the same reason everyone else does: to communicate.

An Outsider Poem by Thomas L. Vaultonburg

An Outsider Poem by Thomas L. Vaultonburg

I’m having some Tab Cola for the first time in several weeks tonight. The 90 degree heat has broken and we’re watching John Oliver talk about organized religion and I really need to find something to talk about to get to 500 words. I also ate an entire sleeve of those fun size Milky Way bars. They were miraculous in raising my dopamine level even though Jack caught me and came over to see what I was eating. I lied and said I wasn’t only crumpling paper. He seemed to know I was lying, but since he couldn’t see the fun size candy bars there wasn’t much he could do. I’m going to write two more of these blogs tonight. The soda and candy bars have elevated my mood, but in general the whole experience has been rather crushing. School begins this week for one kid, and next week for the younger kid, so by the end of next week everyone in the house will be sick as a dog because no one seems to take care of themselves anymore or have the decency to not send their kid to school if they are sick. I never really did go see Straight Out of Compton yet, and we never got to the Minions movie this summer, even though we told the children we would a couple of times.