More Anti-Poetry
More anti-poetry. These things are going to end up meriting me a dozen or more "reflections". You know how in the Bad Old Days teachers made you write "I will not do (whatever I did)" across the board a hundred or more times? Well, the grad student version of that is a "reflection". How did that make you feel? What will you do differently next time? Do you give two shits? Too bad I'm not "re-enlisting" and would have to care.
Check out the cool use of both graphics and space-poetry in the anti-poetry here, from Batmite!. Alternatively, the Undesirable Element has a fantastic anti-poem in the traditional rhyme scheme about English majors and poverty, in which he rhymes buck and fuck. No small accomplishment, that.
I have chosen to present a limerick, inspired by Keats' famous friggin' comma.
I Met A Famous Comma
I met a very famous comma--
A comma which sparked so much drama
Does the urn say the words?
This shit's for the birds
"Criticism" drinks the piss of a llama
*OK, so it's not your traditional 9/9/5/5/9 scheme. This is ANTI-poetry. Screw the rules!
-- Virgil
posted by contemplator at Monday, June 18, 2007
4 Comments:
get over yourself.
News flash, dumbass: this is a personal weblog. So that means--wait for it--it's about me and what I want to write about it.
Don't like what you read? Take your idiotic self elsewhere. No one is holding a gun to your head. And quit stalking the blog. My statcounter is tired of looking at you.
Such a way with words you have. I think I will stalk this blog and tell all my friends about what a great read it is. There truly is nothing like another blog about a self absorbed whiny chic too get the readers coming. Maybe you can start running ads on yur blog and make some cash. Would you please send my apologies to your statcounter.
And yet, red, even though it's so "whiny", you're back. That rather says more about you than it does me, now doesn't it. You get off on that sort of thing, the anonymity of the web, pointless little digs.
*yawn*
You'll notice the trash can at the end of your post? It means I can shitcan your comments if I want to. That's the beauty of a personal weblog. So do what you please. I really don't give a damn. You're boring anyway, and I don't have the time to take on and train new pets.
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