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Category:
Poetry
Publisher: Independently Published
ISBN-10: 1080823158
Type: Fiction
Pages: 118
Copyright: July 15, 2019
ISBN-13: 9781080823154
Price: $8.00 (eBook)
Lyrical poetry and satire on the corruption in American political and social life
The Fuck Generation (poems), 2007
Review of The Fuck Generation by Laurel Johnson of Midwest Book Review
by Alexander Shaumyan
Alexander Shaumyan immigrated to the U.S. from Russia with his family in 1975. His personal poetry and Russian translations are well known internationally. This is his tenth full length book of poetry. In it, he's no longer the sheltered innocent dreaming of unconditional love. His eyes are wide open; he sees the world around him for what it is. Humans have become a generation of selfish, perverted, spoiled technocrats, living in a dangerous world where no one is safe anymore.
This excerpt from the title poem sets the tone:
And we knew somehow
That there was no one to save us
From ourselves --
No gods, no karma, no military,
No peace corps, nor futile protest
Marches on Washington.
In Shaumyan's view, we have become "second hand people living off recycled / words that offer neither substance / nor meaning." This is true in poetry as well as politics. His growing cynicism is clear in "I Don't Want to be a Poet:"
I don't want to be a poet
Just to be heard by other
Poets or would be poets
At some phony
Open mike poetry
Readings or poetry
Slams with everyone
Desperate for attention --
As humans, our place in the Universe is not destined for memorable greatness. Consider the last verse of "Old Dudes in Metaphysical Jungles:"
But the circus goes on undetected even now --
With all the claims of omnipotence
And omniscience, we are still too damn small
For this universe.
"Another Uplifting Poem" demonstrates this poet's use of brilliant sarcasm in the face of reality, where only a poem stands between life and a man with a gun to his head:
It was another uplifting poem,
Masquerading as the meaning of life,
And those who took little sips from it
Felt a little better during the day
Because the poem was their friend
Like a get-well card or a call from
That special someone with its
Huggy-poo and lovey-doo
Type of fuzzy nonsense...
Shaumyan's world is awash with "posers, losers, junkies, and self-important thugs." His brilliant mind cannot absorb the awful truths. He searches for solace in the beauty of nature or love, but visions of bombed buildings, scorched earth, and helpless victims of greed and war haunt him:
I've seen pompous old men
Profess higher truths,
And children mangled,
Murdered and starved,
Or sold to the highest
Bidder --
Readers will find no huggy-poo or lovey-poo types of fuzzy nonsense here. These poems are Shaumyan's unflinching view of our modern world. His words are scalpels that dissect pretenses, hypocrisy, greed, politics, and war. If you haven't read Shaumyan's work, I recommend you start with this book.
Laurel Johnson
Midwest Book Review
Excerpt
The Fuck Generation
We were perverts and losers,
Slackers and underachievers,
Losing our identities in the vast
Black hole of cyberspace,
Making love to our egos
In the anonymous river of
Cyber exchanges,
Blogging and fucking our lives away,
Drunk with ourselves in some
Pornographic cyber forums,
Writing about fucking and
Masturbating—
We were the fuck generation,
Raised by the soulless
Poetry slams and dimly lit
Open mike readings—
Products of C-SPAN, CNN,
Al Gore and global warming,
Products of new hate of
Post-cold war paranoia—
We were emo, screamo, techno,
Industrial and dreamo—
Jamming and thrashing
Out of our fucking minds—
We were those sensitive young dudes,
With high-pitched voices
And tiny peckers,
Singing about head games,
Lost innocence and double-entendres—
We were the fuck generation,
Caught in an endless war
Without a purpose or an exit,
Where everyone dies once more
And no one gives a fuck—
We were the fuck generation,
Waking up from the hippie
Pipe dreams to the futile
Absurdity of living—
And we knew somehow
That there was no one to save us
From ourselves—
No gods, no karma, no military,
No peace corps, nor futile protest
Marches on Washington,
For we were bigger than the Beatles
And more genuine than the Beats,
Leaving Dylan and Janis
At some deserted bus stop in Woodstock,
Blowing in the wind with outdated
Audio cassettes and vinyl records.
We were the fuck generation,
Sick of riding that beat-up old Chevy
With Ginsberg and Kerouac,
Writing our own books
In our own little street corners,
Plotting new courses and new ideas,
Boldly going where no
Ferlinghetti had gone before—
We were the fuck generation—
Fucked in the head and
Fucked in the heart,
Embracing chaos and despair,
Anarchy and destruction,
Seeking authenticity in
The here and now.
September 10, 2007
--Alexander Shaumyan
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