“Greetings Toronto Poetry Club!

I have a very special announcement to make. It is with great pride that I have invited Patrick John Timothy Connors, commonly referred to as Patrick in some circles, (ours included), to be our very first Honorary Member of the Toronto Poetry Club. As our first Honorary Member, he will be an ambassador and spokesperson for us all, talking about us at other venues, representing us wherever he goes, and honoring us with his presence whenever he finds the time.

Everyone offer him a warm welcome in the forums on April 13th and thank him there as well as in person!

It is with pleasure that he has accepted my invitation to perform for 20 minutes on Friday, April 13th 2012 at 7PM, at the inauguration of our closed-door venue (do not miss this! RSVP today! click here). Mr. Connors might also be enticed to comment on and critique some of our work afterward, as we read each other our own poems. We will then head to the social as per usual. It is my hope that Mr. Connors will be able to attend the social as well.

Patrick Connors has recently featured at The Art Bar, Brockton Writers, Sunday Poetry at Ellington’s, as well as Subtext Multi-Arts Festival. He has also been a listed performer at 100,000 Poets for Change and the International Festival of Poetry Of Resistance.
He has been published in such entities as The Toronto Quarterly, OW News, Poetry’Z Own Magazine, and other Canadian and international venues.”

For more information and to RSVP to this event, please see: www.torontopoetryclub.com and check their “Discussions” forums for the full details!

“God is dead” -Nietzsche
“Print is dead” -Stephen M. Miniotis

(@Nietzsche @digital @print @copy @publication @TorontoPoetry @LGOE)

MOBILE DEVICE EMAIL SIGNATURE CHANGED!

You know what the problem is these days? You type too fast. Especially when it’s just with your thumbs. You get the latest and greatest hardware, and without even thinking or blinking, out comes 20 lines of crass abbreviations that no human eye should have to filter through. But it’s an important email. the grammar is wrong. The words are misconstrued. So what do you do? You sign your email with an adequate signature.

This is what my signature is, (which gets attached to any email I send via mobile phone):

“the above email was sent via mobile device. Please disregard all errors arising from abbreviations, typos and grammar which are unintentional. As such, for all serious matters please call or speak to me in person.

Stephen M. Miniotis
(###)###-#### (“phone number”)”

Anyhoot, I just wanted to thank all who came out last night to our 2nd meeting. It was quite rewarding, as the organizer for the event, to see so many people share poetry. I’m a man on a mission and my mission is to share as much poetry as possible with the highest amount of people, and get them to share their poetry too!

It’s nice to put the Playstation 3 down sometimes and pick up a poetry book, or a pen. Choose your Saturday afternoon distraction, choose your poison — but choose it very carefully, and choose it wisely! Let’s make poetry one option. It must be this way. It must be online, too. And that is what I’m doing here, today, with the Toronto Poetry club. We are creating another avenue, an alternate option for people, a different option for a Saturday afternoon. We can be hooked on books again, on poetry again, sometimes. The Toronto Poetry Club gives me that hope, gives poets that option. Here is to hoping that there are other options, other than World of Warcraft or whatever the latest trendy massively multiplayer online video game is. And to be quite honest, I did not believe that there was any other option before I started the Toronto Poetry Club. But I do believe it now. And it’s because of you – the members who showed up last night. So, thank you for that. Thank you for hope. As I mentioned briefly last night:

“All art is art without form and void, like the sea
We are the ones who give it shape, and form

Like sailors adrift in a sea of angst and anguish
And you, wave of my ocean, settle me gently down“

-Stephen M. Miniotis, from, “You Nymph Of My Memories”.

Your mind is a palace. And if you do not seek that palace out and fill it up with beautiful things, then it will be an empty palace. Let us fill that palace up with poetry, and be artists, too.

However, it would seem to me that some people of my ilk and stock and generation, still do not agree that poetry can be a viable past time for us all. I certainly did not believe so either, in my disenfranchised youth.

According to the Globe & Mail today, “Figures compiled by the Entertainment Software Association of Canada show that 59 per cent of Canadians play video games” (link to article here)

Because games are so popular and literature is not, poetry as a past time seemed an illogical conclusion to me, just 8 short weeks ago. But on December 10th, 2011, I founded the Toronto Poetry Club and that changed. There are not all that many poets kicking around anymore. And the numbers are even smaller for poetry readers and poetry consumption as such. If you exclude the fact that those who write poetry enjoy it themselves, I’m quite sure that the numbers are absolutely abysmal as pertains to poetry consumption. There aint that many people reading poetry, either, in other words. All we have is each other. But we can be better, we can share more, and the internet is the venue, and it starts with the Toronto Poetry Club. As such, the Toronto Poetry Club is just another avenue in a sea of strife and angst and anguish, a step away from our busy lives, a personal digression to strangers, a beer with friends we haven’t met yet, or would like to meet again. So, for those who came out, thank you for coming out and sharing in this wonderful experience with me. And for those of you who didn’t, we hope to see you every first Saturday from here on in.

While I have your attention, let’s look at some numbers. The numbers don’t lie. Poetry might; but the numbers never do. Maybe. Anyway, we had about 20 poets show to our meetup last night, and 77 are officially registered at torontopoetryclub.com this morning. Considering that it has been 5 days short of 2 months since it’s inception, I would consider this impressive feat to be the culmination of one man’s dogged determination to share poetry, else, it is simply a miracle. And I don’t believe in miracles, anymore. Call me jaded.

It would seem that video games are a heck of a lot more popular than our scraggly little lines, though. In fact, did you know that Tomas Tranströmer, the Nobel prize winning poet who recently won the Nobel Prize for literature in 2011, and one of the few who has been selected for that prestigious award because of his merits in Poetry, has only 3,488 LIKEs on his Facebook page this morning, and this, at the height of his impressive career! How is that even possible, when at the same time, Call of Duty: Black Ops, the latest installment of the immensely popular Call of Duty Franchise, (a massively multiplayer shooter/gun game, where you are pitted against other players in a kill-or-be-killed environment), has hoards upon hoards and legions upon legions of fans (11,324,831 fans as of this morning).

If you still don’t believe me, look at the official numbers as pertains to the release of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3:

“Activision has said that it believes Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 day-one shipments were the largest for any game ever. “The record number of pre-orders from Modern Warfare 3 drove the largest day-one shipments in our history, and in the industry’s history,” said Activision Publishing CEO Eric Hirshberg during an earnings call on November 8, 2011. Hirshberg said more than 1.5 million people queued at 13,000 shops at midnight on Monday to buy Modern Warfare 3, “making it the largest retail release in Activision’s history and in the industry’s history“.

(from “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3″ from Wikipedia (reference #68.^ Purchese, Robert (11-09-11). “MW3 Day 1 Shipments Largest In History”. Retrieved 11-10-11).

As you can see, we’re losing the online battle here today. It is sad to me that such a great art form as poetry, which has been around, “Since people have been people, and a bit before” (–Stephen M. Miniotis, “Music”), is perpetually dying a slow, loud and untidy death. Every time a strikingly new and relevant poet cries wolf, I cry with him or her. But we, as poets, have been perpetually crying wolf that poetry is dying, for centuries. The difference today? The internet. The power to create. The power to destroy. It is within our grasp. So let us use it as such, and use it for good, to create and share poetry and art, and to do good things. Not just run around shooting each other in a massively multiplayer online environment. Well, that’s fun too, I guess, (personally speaking, I I’ve been down that road, I’ve done that hobby too), but poetry is also fun! And it can be a valid option. So, the future is bright. Do not shy away from poetry online: embrace it. Else, quite frankly, we’re in trouble!

Personally speaking, the advent of the internet changed a lot of things for me. I was about 16 when I got my first personal computer and plugged it into the internet. That opened up new avenues that I could not before even dream of (this blog post on lastgentlemanonearth.com wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t banged around on a keyboard for about 10 years wondering how things worked online (and smashed my forehead on the keyboard a few times, in frustration, too!)– and quite frankly, neither would the Toronto Poetry Club, because that, too, started with a website). Things didn’t have to go the online route for my artistic career — I didn’t have to become a reclusive video-game nerd and suppressed poet — things might have went the other way — I could have been more of a scholar and more of a successful artist and poet. Or a musician – the smart way to make money off of rhythm, meter and rhyme! I might have been a famous musician with lyrical rhymes that dazzled and awed an audience who would beg for more — and pay for it, too. But of course, things did not go that route for me. I chose the simple, reclusive lifestyle that I lead today, for various reasons. “and so, my pretty poetry decomposed, way before the ripeness of your skin” –a reference to Stephen M. Miniotis (“You Nymph Of My Memories”).

And so, here we are today, sharing on the internet, as well as in person, every first Saturday of the month. Because of meetup.com. Because of torontopoetryclub.com. Because of me. And this gives me hope, that I made the right decision, after all. There ain’t no Bob Dylan in me. But there is a poet, and a scholar, somewhere deep inside, after all. So let us collectively share our wisdom, and be poets! Online and offline. Everywhere. But in our own mind first.

What I’m trying to say, in other words, is this. Our generation faces a moral dilemma of the highest order, without even knowing it. Shakespeare once stated, “to be or not to be? that is the question”. And that IS the question, of our generation. How more relevant could poetry be than that?

The question has now become: to study, or not to study? and that is the question of my generation, in my own mind and heart. The internet gives us the power to create, such as the Toronto Poetry Club .com, as well as the power to destroy, such as Tomas Tranströmer vs. the Call of Duty franchise. Are we one step away from what we used to love (poetry, art, creative expression), or are we one step toward something new, something better (massively multiplayer online video games, online video and poetry blogs, internet dating and meetups, etc)? Both lead to the same place: the future. And, “What is the future?”, anyway? (a title of one of my poems).

“What is the future but a sigh?
A ‘nevermore’ cry
A whisper in the dampened sky
A black bird fluttering it’s wings high”

(-Stephen M. Miniotis, an excerpt from “What is the Future?”, a poem.)

The future of art. The future of socializing and social networking. All paths lead to Rome, as they say. But I say:

“And what of home?
Where is that mythic moat
We search for Ithaka alone
Like Ulysses on his leaky boat”

-by: Stephen M. Miniotis, an excerpt from “Under Lock & Key”, a poem.

I hope you see now, where poetry art and technology intermingle online. And where they mash together in my work.

We stand on a precipice every day as poets, and peer off the deep end, wondering at the looming disaster of our own demise, one step away from extinction. Maybe TS Eliot was right. According to most people, Poetry is a dinosaur. It’s extinct and what we have left are fossils. And this might not necessarily be a bad thing. But it is definitely sad to watch, from the perspective of a reclusive artist, in the comfort of my own home, plugging away on the internet, banging my head on the keyboard, sharing art that almost nobody cares about except other artists. It is no wonder I spent so many years in the intellectual ghetto of massively multiplayer online games myself, wondering why nobody cared about these fickle things, these diamonds in the rough, these poetry lines we spur so often yet shun so frequently. It’s as if we’re even scared to announce that we might be poets, after all, both to each other, and to others, but most sadly, to ourselves.

But, as I’ve said, the numbers do not lie. It is what it is. As an administrator for a poetry club which did not exist until December 10th, 2011, it is a great success to me that at this minute we have 77 members registered on the Toronto Poetry Club .com website and literally 248 posts and about 70 poems posted in our forums as of this morning, with many other irrelevant discussions kicking around the forums, too. We’re sharing works of art, works that might not have seen the light of day, or more importantly, each other’s eyes and hearts, had we not had the courage to come out and share them with each other every 1st Saturday.

“We are the few, the many,
For us, do not weep,
Our wool is his to keep,
On timid grounds”.

–Stephen M. Miniotis, (from draft 2 of “On Timid Grounds” a poem).

And this might not sound like a huge deal to you, today. But it is to me, tomorrow. For all the aforementioned reasons and more. And as such, I want you to very carefully consider how important it is that you spread the word about the Toronto Poetry Club and share your poetry with others. Sharing is caring! Which has been the slogan for the Toronto Poetry Club since it’s inception, and a bit before. It is a very carefully constructed catch-phrase intended to spur you to share poetry and art, in whatever form you desire, both on the internet and offline. My desire to share art comes in the form of Poetry. So keep coming to the meetups!

I might add here, that there is something inextricably woven into our minds and hearts when we spend some time sharing our art, something illogical and beautiful at the same time that I shouldn’t attempt adequately express or explain to others in a simple blog post that isn’t intended for that sole purpose. So, I’ll leave that for a critical essay that’ll go into a collection of essays. I’ve typed your ear off already, and probably bored you half to death. Instead, I’ll leave you with a borrowing from literature, which adequately explains a simple truth:

Oscar Wilde once reflected, about art:

“We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is quite useless.“


-Oscar Wilde. in the Prelude to “Portrait Of Dorian Grey”. (http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/owilde/bl-owilde-pic-pre.htm).

I do beg to differ sometimes. But we’ll leave that for the scholarly debates and personal essays, after all.

So, back to the topic at hand once more. To those who came out on a cold February night, thanks for coming out and sharing your “useless art” with me! I appreciate you coming out, braving the cold, and slugging around words and mincing them with the best of us. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know!

See you next month!

Only Love!

Stephen M. Miniotis
President
Toronto Poetry Club
www.lastgentlemanonearth.com

Only love! <3 -LGOE

-sent from LGOE’s mobile phone.

Dedicated to Bob Dylan

This is the song of the desert, where
At dusk, Garlic Lily thrusts
it’s grey blue bulbs and white yellow tufts
Out into the unknown.

This is the song of the desert, where
Coyotes throw their shrill
Cries across an ocean, excited with the thrill
Of life and death.

This is the song of the desert, where
Everything is said
And nothing is left unsaid
Days warm, nights cold

This is the song of the desert, where
No story is left untold,
And, whether young or old
Life is only for the bold.

–Stephen M. Miniotis

Please see the full article here, and click the BUY NOW button! And if you ever make it to the pearly gates upstairs, make sure you tell ‘em you done good for once in yer life, by purchasing this 4-set CD. Great price, great artists, great cause. Get it done!

http://www.amnesty.ca/chimesoffreedom/main.php

Only Love! <3 for Amnesty International, and Bob Dylan! Pete Seeger, Miley Cyrus, too!

By Dave Seglins, CBC News

Posted: Feb 1, 2012 5:32 AM ET

Last Updated: Feb 1, 2012 10:26 AM ET

Here is the full article:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/story/2012/01/31/vanier-torture-letter.html

-Horrible that this could happen to a Canadian. The presumption of innocence should be a top priority when dealing with Canadians who travel abroad. -LGOE

There is a news article about Poetry Slamming in today’s Metro (Toronto)!

Might want to check them out!

@metrotoronto:

The article: “Poetry Isn’t Dead on Stage“