Bad Poetry (for lack of anything to say)
Things every blogger should do at least once in their blogging life:
#1 – Post 10, 000 pictures of their pet
#2 – Post 10 000 pictures of the right side of their face
(otherwise known as The Mariah Carey Pose.
Also known as the Must Not Let Anyone Find Out
That I Look Like Radiohead’s Thom Yorke Pose.)
#3 – Post a bad poem they wrote.
I was looking through my old journal the other day and found a whole load of bad poems I wrote when I was suffering from the delusion that I was Pablo Neruda incarnate. Since I don’t have a pet or a working digital camera at the moment, I thought I would fulfill item #3 and post the result of my most recent foray into the world of lousy poetry here. Have a good laugh!
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Coming Down (written on the 6th of June 2005)
Exiled from my ice
kingdom high
up in space
my crystal crown up in smoke
scentless and senseless
colorless and worthless
Down again
To earth that feels like hell.
The atmosphere cooks up my blood
into a thick syrup
that will not flow through my veins.
An old racehorse beats
beneath my left breast
on its last glory run on track
saving no life to die in
the stables
An acupuncturist in my lungs
under-qualified prick
needles.
My jaw clenches but this isn’t pain
(This is) the tense anticipation of sleep
that will not come
despite the thousand herds of sheep.
A friend calls to tell me of his dream.
The descend
has left me
utterly lacking in light.
Funny
how the stars show up in full tonight
But the streets,
the streets on earth
still need to be lit
by artificial light.
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Now we move on to Ways to Make People Love Your Bad Poetry
#1 – Have a tumultuous marriage to a philandering, critically
acclaimed fellow poet.
#2 – Stick your head in a gas oven.
No, Sylvia Plath, why would you think I was talking about you?
