Within cultivated touches.

From the relatively short amount of people that have taken the time to explore my body of poetics, to whom I’m eternally thankful, one common theme among them seems recurrent. This small text is only meant to clarify certain subjacent elements of my writing, rather than explaining the poetics in full (something I could not do even if I wanted to).

The first element is the name of the blog, Caliath, often confused with a pseudonym I use for writing, although not at all meant to be seen that way.

Ever since my somewhat muddy beginnings writing, both in English and Portuguese, I would name all my notebooks Caliath (they all still exist, to this day, 16 of them), which means all of the poetry here is found in written form on Caliath XVI. There isn’t a clear reason to why I decided upon that name for them, I don’t even remember reflecting on what I should call them before actually naming them, and ever since, Caliath has been the name I generally give to all my poetry – good, bad or outright nonsensical, they all find common ground in a single aspect, which brings me to my second clarification:

There are four volumes of Caliath that I’ve disowned, the first four, to be precise. Now all compiled into one “poetry to burn under the sea”, they are all poems that I atribute to myself and my personal life and emotions, in contrast to all following Caliath volumes (5 and up), where I’m given to verse above a manufactured world. This has been highly valuable, since it allows me to experiment freely, feel the work to an augmented degree, and fully manipulate the subjects of my poetry without compromising it’s honesty. This manufactured world, or how I like to call it – wasteland, works in a similar way to a fictional universe, but with a bitter existencial-philosophical cultivated touch.

Although I claim to take inspiration from Ultra-Romance for my english poetry, a lot of it is soaked in a type of poetic existentialism very much my own, whereas the beauty of a certain question is elevated beyond it’s initial version, and then destroyed and broken apart by a rather senseless feeling of inadequacy. This general inadequacy is present throughout all my creations, from being inadequate or unequipped to love, to write, to understand or even to allow full emotion to course my words, and that same feeling waters my most candid and vulnerable poetics, for as long as I feel inadequate and reject my own creations, they take such a unique form in that rejection.

Regardless, that was a mess, hopefully it was a bit clear,

Much love,


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A tick clinging to the bristles of a purple boar.

10 thoughts on “Within cultivated touches.”

  1. First-hand, I understand this. A lot of my poetry comes out when existential thoughts of loneliness, inadequacy and almost a sense of self-hate envelops me. Appreciate you sharing this!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Often, my interior matches that description. Except hate, I don’t hate myself or anything I do, as a matter of fact, I can’t really pinpoint something I hate in general. I’m more given to sadness and vulnerability than hate, not because of magnitude, but because I believe hate is very two-dimensional within the spectrum of emotions, also very tangible and visible. But I do love me some hate poems, and hating moments in literature.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, your support has been very valuable. And I also appreciate your work a lot, although I rarely have time nowadays to fully explore it. Here lies the promise that soon, I shall!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks for sharing these insights. There are bouts of inadequecy I too experience at times and most times I’m unsure whether I should share my writings. I enjoy your poetic expressions and I do read them over as there is much to reflect and absorb.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well, it took my about 10 years to first mention to a single being I wrote poetry.
      I don’t know to what extent that helped or hindered my poems, but I don’t regret it. You should share what you’re ready to share, when you are ready.
      One thing I can tell you, I won’t ever become a “poet” if that entails losing my inadequacy. I love being inadequate.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. johnny, this exposition on your own work is well received. how fascinating to learn how you named your volumes of poetry; equally illuminating is your explanation of how you see your english poetic style. makes me wonder if you put on a different suit (so to speak) when you write in portugese, and i wish i could read and understand your portuguese work to observe the differences for myself. i so enjoy reading your poetry, and hope that your desire to remain inadequate is fulfilled so that you may write more!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. First of all, a thousand thank yous Mariah, you’ve been such a valuable reader and writer to me.

      My poetry in Portuguese is completely different, except in one regard – it’s beauty. The one common description of my work among all styles and languages is the beauty of my construction, even when the content seems lacking (often the case). I take a lot of time and energy into my poetic constructions, I’m very rigorous with sound, syllabic structures and overall lyrics, both in English and Portuguese.
      My poetry in native tongue, although I can’t really describe it, has lighter tones yet deeper emotions. It’s raw, yet meticulous, a bit of Rimbaud soaked in Proust, if you will. And since I’m way more familiar with my language, I can work with local expressions a lot better, and convey a lot more using less words and less complexity (my English poetry often feels alienating and pretentious), therefor it’s easier to capture.

      Unfortunately and despite many attempts, I cannot translate my poetry. Simply because there are no equals, and me being the “artist” behind the work, every syllable lost and overall lyricism compromised tastes like rusty iron.

      Sorry for the wall of text, and again, thank you millions my tundra friend!

      Liked by 1 person

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