June 13, 2014
I’m a member of the Rhymers’ Club, which is a bunch of us poets who get together to read, write and recite poetry to each other. It’s a private group, and we often meet in complete secrecy. From time-to-time we have made a journal, but the printing is only enough for membership and no one else. So in other words, we produce literature for only ourselves and no one else. Everyone in the group is obsessed with keeping the poetry as pure as possible. To be honest, I’m even forbidden to discuss or write about this group, even in this journal. Nevertheless I feel compelled to expose myself, because when you come upon such perfect moments, I have a tendency to want to share them with someone.
Every so often there are poets in the group, that are quite famous, but not for writing poetry. The comic actor Paul Lynde was a member of the group right up to his death, and he was once on a TV program called “Hollywood Squares” where he often gave messages on the show for the members. Of course it was coded, and for anyone listening in, they would think they were just listening to a joke, but that was not the case whatsoever. It has been stated within the group that Lindsay Anderson’s film “O Lucky Man” is a coded version of The Rhymers’ Club” and that the film’s star Malcolm McDowell who wrote the story, may have been a member, but more likely his father who owned the pub, where some of the secret meetings took place, either was a member himself or at least knew about the group.
We do have a membership card, but it has no name or wording. It is an image of King Ludwig looking over Richard Wagner as he plays the piano. For whatever reasons, we don’t know why this image was chosen. It has been rumored that Yeats himself chose this image as a membership card, to be used to announce oneself to another member. Secrets are the foundation of our culture. We must keep them. After reading this, please destroy it.