Writing is the End of All Things

I decided to compile my personal favourites out of my thousand-ish loose poems into three distinct collections, primarily to clean up the clutter and make them more accessible. This is the third of said three collections.
The poems in this collection deal with the experience of writing, seen from a writer’s perspective. They are often, mockingly, overwrought; often sarcastic – and in other cases they are the direct re-telling of dreams (or nightmares, for some) I’ve had, concerning writing.

Although all of these poems predate this publication with at least three years, I think their content, and very existence, speaks volumes of how seriously I take writing, and how important the art of writing really is for all of humanity.
Writing things down brings us in touch with them in a much more intimate way than speaking, and makes it seem more permanent and of more consequence. It can open our eyes to a lot of things that was hidden, and to parts of ourselves and our emotions that we weren’t fully aware of. In short – as it was
believed in the past before writing started being taught universally; writing the name of a thing can
actually give you a degree of control over the thing itself.
So this is my attempt to control writing – at least for my own purposes.

The style of the poems deserves a mention too – some of them mockingly copy the writing style of the Romantic poets; the overwrought emotions and imagery. This is purposeful, to show how art can, left to its own devices, engulf a person’s life entirely and leave everything else in its shadow.
Other poems are short, personal pieces that tell the story of how depleted I felt after putting a certain amount of effort into writing.

You’ll have to dodge between serious and mocking; honest and sarcastic. Direct and hidden.

Writing about writing – now, isn’t that something? Meta-writing! I never imagined I’d find myself in this far over my head. But done is done.