The Apologia

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Justification of my poetry.

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Creativity begins as a form of flattery, and as a form of imitation. If I wish to be a great poet, and a great writer, I must, initially, at least, turn to my inspiration, and do everything in my power to mimic them. Our interests do indeed reflect ourselves, in which if I can successfully capture and seize the essence of a certain artistic piece, I can then apply my own soul and essence to it, and create my own product (mostly). When I first started taking the craft of poetry seriously a little over 2 years ago in late 2019, I became infatuated with the way words , letters, and the order of such can be used to paint a potentially beautiful picture. The discovery reminded me of how much I love songs, and how lyrics are written. Words are not the same things as musical notes, the latter being something I still don’t quite understand. But, words essentially allow me to get close to the majestic, magical universe known as the world of songwriting. I do enjoy writing short stories as well, but before I continue my journey to completion of a second novel, I must polish my craft of English to the highest degree, and allow each individual word to carry an equal workload. I must allow each sentence of these stories to be a haiku, in a sense. No empty space, yet each word working together in utmost togetherness to form a certain chemistry that can make the reader smile, raise an eyebrow, or evoke some sort of emotion. My poetry and

my subsequent revisions afterwards aim to tell a period of time, whether that period be as short as a blink or as long as year, in conscience, beautiful, tangible form.

The poem below was the poem most heavily worked on, leading to the highest amount of revisions within the project. It details the excursion to Mars that is occurring among our one percent. The poem is designed to invoke the idea that we are reading a steam tent from one of our friendly billionaires regarding the personal and overall justification linked to the mission to mars, among other extraterrestrial bodies. Shown below is the initial draft as well as the revision following below.

Before revision:

One day I’ll know

What I really wanna be

Then I will rise up

In God’s ecstasy

In breaking the barrier

And saving grace for the Earth.

I can’t co-depend

I can’t recommend

My freedom, my future

For the mild and dead

And I do take my trust

And have it combust

To the place that I call Home.

Call me a bastard

Or a tycoon

But I’m gonna go further

Afar from the Moon

In laden space I just may resign

For God’s work can’t just take my time.

My limbs that are broken

May be a good token

To fix my past,

Or break it wide open

The stars weigh a ton

Yet all in good fortune

A branch won’t spare dry leaves for me

And when I do run out

Of Gods ecstasy,

Take damnation for granted

And turn it to sand, it

Will leave all the space

For building grace of New Earth.

Space can see me,

But you could too

Space can feel me

You could too

Emptiness related to gloom

Yet no one has stood

In an empty room.

My bonds are sealed

My pain is healed

And if you may leave

I’ll say I left first

For I’ll say what I see

Was not worth my time

In time, what it’s worth

It’s better to leave

Then to be replaced

And yet, you tug on these strings

For saving grace of New Earth

Of the whole damn Earth.

After revision:

New Earth

One day I will know

What I would like to be

Then I will rise up—

In God’s ecstasy—

In breaking the barrier

And saving grace for the Earth.

I can’t co-depend,

I can’t recommend

My freedom, my future

For the mild and dead.

But I do take my trust

And have it combust—

To the place that I call Home.

Call me a bastard,

Or a tycoon,

But I’m gonna go further—

Afar from the Moon.

In laden space, I just may resign

For God’s work can’t just take my time.

My troops that are broken

May give a good notion

To fix my past,

Or break it wide open.

This Trek weighs a ton

Yet all in good fortune—

Spare dead droids for me,

A branch will not.

And when I do run out

Of Gods ecstasy,

Take damnation for granted

And turn it to sand, it

Will leave all the space

For building grace of New Earth.

My starship is imperial

And my moods are mercurial,

But that is just a ploy.

Come to me, the Sun

it’s good for everyone

A star built to destroy.

Let the old Earth burn..

The sky, the lies, the dirt,

Let the New Earth shine

Like my beedy, restless eyes.

My bonds are sealed,

My pain is healed,

And if you may leave

I’ll say I left first.

For I’ll say what I see

Was not worth my time.

In time, above all I’m sure

It’s better to leave

Then to be replaced

And yet, you tug on these strings

For the saving grace of New Earth.

Of the whole damn Earth.

Firstly, the poem reviews a new title— originally space, subsequently changed to Space Race, it is now entitled ‘New Earth.’ I have realized that this poem is more so about the leaving of our own planet, rather than the arrival of a new one which remains somewhat distant to our potentially provicnical minds. This title just serves the overall context of the poem better. The first stanza had improved grammatical instances as well as an emphasis on the flow I had in mind. There are now more beaks between stanzas, allowing the reader to further digest and comprehend each section, as well as making each particular stanza more important and more of a catalyst for the reader.

The second verse, after the ‘chorus’ of the poem now has direct references to both Star Trek and Star Wars, as well as Yoda, thus adding some character and flavor to a stanza that likely needs it, as well as some humor. The largest, most significant change to this poem is present within the ‘bridge’ of the poem. The old bridge is entirely gone and is now replaced with a dark, introspective look into the future. The narrator, whoever that may be, insists the world is destined to death, and if not, eventual consumption by the sun. The narrator begs his audience to embrace this fate and to embrace the new earth, much like his mindset. He is simultaneously covering his own ego as well as applying some kind of leadership, hoping to unite the collective identity of the people. The last stanza is similar to the original variant with improved structure and grammar.

The overall goal of the revisions is to bring out more color as to what I wrote 4 years ago. The space race is different now, much larger in scale. Perhaps the drive behind such a race has more fuel than ever before. The aim with the revisions is to further bring out the ego in the narrator, and how this race is very much about the life of the rich themselves and their own aspirations as it is about earth itself. With Earth’s demise, it will not be about the planet itself, but it will always be about inhabitants. What’s Earth without humans? Nothing, apparently. What’s beauty without an eye to behold such and define such?

My poem aims to ask these questions in creative manners, and I believe it succeeds in doing so.

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Artwork: Kristian Zenz with the help of AI