To the person grading this poem To the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a pen Waiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor: Stop it. Dont Patronize me. I did not slave over this with hammer and anvil Shaping it into a masterpiece. I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church, Going blind from the pain and the stress. I didnt even turn this in on time.
And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class, You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima. No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle. This isnt a masterpiece. Who are we kidding? Youre not going to hurt it, and you most certainly arent going to hurt me. Stop it. Dont patronize me.
I want you to destroy my work. I want you to rip it to shreds with sadistic dominatrix glee. Tear it apart from margin to margin; Laugh openly at its crippled, struggling body. Stab through its sputtering heart with the sharp edge of your pen. Piss on it, for all I care. Mark it as your own.
I want you to handle this poem with all the delicacy and surgical precision of a butcher in a slaughterhouse of a serial rapist of Caligula ripping a baby from his sisters womb.
Jab a knife through the soft flesh of its stomach And gut it like a fish. Watch it gargle to breathe as letters pour out of its wounds.
You want persona? I am the speaker. This is my humpbacked, pulsating blob of a poem. And you are Jack the Ripper. You are Charles Manson. gnitirW. yM. lliK.
This has no meter. No beat. No style. No lines that long and linger for the comfort of a smile. No form to be worth your while. it dont evn rime.
Its imagery lacks depth and imagination. No, it does not show potential. It is not clever or good or interesting.
Quit feeding it lies.
And if you dare write nice Or good image one more time in the margins, I swear I am going to snap.
This isnt going on anyones fridge. It does not deserve a super or an A+. It deserves to die.
And as Im finishing this up in class, Do not be concerned with how I feel. Im thinking to myself, lets flush this fucker down.
So as youre sitting there, kindly, patiently reading This beer-shit guttural splattering I call a poem, Please just be honest. Who are we kidding? Stop it. Dont patronize me.
HO-SHEET, a DD! I'm absolutely grateful for all the wonderful comments and +favs and whatnot, but this is probably the most ironic piece that could be featured from me. Ah well. It's kind of awesome that way.
If you're curious what my teacher thought, she said that she knew she shouldn't call it good, but that she wanted to, and that good critique is hard to give as well as take. There's a very fine line between what's good and what's bad, and then a finer one in how to express that. Her example was a poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti that compared writing a poem to walking a tightrope. Anyway, she then said that maybe I could take out the line about "I just said 'fuck in a poem I have written for school,' because it was somewhat redundant. Other than that, she said she really couldn't think of anything, and gave me an A.
Also, big shout-outs to , my wondrous girlfriend, and , an amazing writer, poet, and friend I've always admired. Go check out their work. It's definitely worth your while.
And, of course, big thanks to BloodyFreakingMary and fllnthblnk for the suggesting and featuring and whatnot. I'm incredibly grateful, guys.
Here, have some cookies:
This is another poem I wrote for my AP English 12 class. The assignment was that we had to write a "tell 'em off" poem, where we--obviously--tell somebody off. Unfortunately, I'm not really the angry sort. I really don't know how to tell somebody off, because if they bother me, they're not worth the effort and I'll just leave. I really don't think anyone's ever seen me pissed. Mad, maybe, but outright pissed? Never. Then I had to think of who to tell off, and no one came to mind. I could probably tell off the girl I liked, but I didn't really want to. I really can't be pissed at her, and every time I tried to write a poem going in that direction, it just made me sad inside. I'd feel miserable and flop down on my bed and refuse to move--Caleb the social starfish, I guess. That image makes me smile. Plus, I'm kinda sick about having poems referring to her in one way or another, or any of my artwork at all. I know that it'll probably happen anyway, and it does, but I'm seriously not doing it on purpose, and I try not to encourage it.
That said, I decided to write about how my teacher always comments with "nice" or "good image" on my paper. I know she's busy, but even one line of critique would be nice. So I decided to write a poem about that. The first poem was actually called "fuck censorship" and was fairly graphic for a school assignment, and I was going to turn that in. But I wasn't happy with it, so I didn't. I wrote this instead, and it's the epitome of "don't try." I really did write all of it in my fifth-period economy class, recorded it onto a CD ten minutes before school started, and typed the poem in my third-period art class (I have English 4th period.) Then I asked the teacher for a paper clip and clipped the CD to the paper and turned it in. I said that it was spoken word, because I thought it would be more interesting. Then I told her not to listen to it during my class period, and to wear headphones when she did. Also, in the copy I turned in, right after the "let's flush this fucker down" line, there was an ellipses followed by "I just said 'fuck' in a poem I am turning in for school." She told me that line was stating the obvious, though, so I took it out for this copy.
Oh, and the "dominatrix" line is from an inside-joke between and I, because our teacher always decides to wear leather boots. XD
Also, the "beer-shit guttural splattering" line is based off of a quote I like by Charles Bukowski. He said that a good poem was like taking a beer-shit. It all comes out fluid, all at once. You watch it, kind of proudly, and bask in its fumes, and then you feel a little sad as you flush it away. So that's where that line came from.
All in all, I'm amused by this, and I hope everyone else is, too. Enjoy.
I think i love this poem you say its crap others say its beautiful, a masterpiece, or as you say nice, good image and what you can add is it is really hilarious and i guess that economy class is really boring to you to write this. thanks for sharing the poem
I +fav'ed this poem ages ago. I'm the sort of person who when I fav something, goes back once in a while to search through them, read the poems, look at the pictures ect... however, every time I do... I read, and re-read, and re-read this one.
Oh my god, that's amazing. I know I have no real reason to complain, but I used to get discouraged that I had so many views on this compared to +favs, because I thought people were just looking at it, deeming it uninteresting, and moving on. Then a few people pointed out that maybe, just maybe, the people that like it keep it around to re-read. And, sure enough, that's what you did. Pretty damn cool. Thanks for sharing.
Also, sorry for the late reply. The better a comment is, the more time I take on it because I want to say something important. This usually results in comments never getting answered, because I drag out my reply until it feels awkward. Avoiding that now, though (as seem by my saying stuff.)
Btw, if you love this, it's pretty much directly inspired by Taylor Mali, specifically his performance of "What Teachers Make:" [link]
And while we're on the subject of slam poetry, to me, this is my favorite slam poem ever: [link]
this is absolutely fantastic. i shall not write "nice" or "super" because that is not what it is. it is fucking brilliant. and i love the part with "jack the ripper" (Black Butler! ) amazing poem *clicks favorite button*
Well its been about
2 weeks since my
last giveaway right
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simply Fave :+fav:
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not required, but I
would like to get my
youtube channel out
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honored if you could
take some time to
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had a chat to
issues and solutions
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the volume of talk
to max out Sta.sh
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went for two more
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Don't forget to
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More