I had been sitting there waiting for what seemed like days
Next to me, naturally, was the most nauseating person imaginable.
Her name was Beth, and she reminded me of an overweight
beaver going blind out of sheer weight gain to the face.
Apparently, this happens when lard has no where else to go.
Put it this way, at least she couldn't miss with eye drops.
Due to the funnel action of her coalishly-pinched-twin-sink-holes.
And that voice, for fucks sake, it took one a month just to get the
feeling back into their legs after having conversed with this
mentally challenged emotional abomination.
I fucking hate lectures, especially
Poetry lectures/special reader events.
You've never seen a group of more miserable wretches.
That oxygenating fruit, those little plastic cups. Cheap red wine,
and sweaty pseudo hand shakes. Built around bad recollections
of pointlessly recalled quips about the struggles of the retired
at the local buffet, and salad bar, by hopelessly boring old farts.
God, I'm going to pass out, face first onto the grandma in
the folding chair in front of me, I know it. Wait a minute...
HERE HE COMES! The reader is approaching the podium
to speak. Here it comes, he's about to deliver his
poetry to the auditorium. Thank god. Thank GOD!
"This poem is a piece from my first book some many years ago".
He states, matter of factly.
"Gosh, he's a handsome son of a gun", Beth says.
An old woman around eighty five years of age
spins around and hushes Beth, with the know how
of what could only be years of child rearing skill with
little money, and even smaller plucked penciled in eyebrows.
The poet continues...
"This poem I call, Ode to a songbird.
You songbird with hindsight.
You sound just as the warm night.
You sing songs of Joy.
You turn me to boy.
Oh, songbird, oh song bird.
Oh, song bird...
Your song."
He ends by staring up at all of us; as if pleading with the crowd to
hear it with him. To join him in his tribute to mundane awareness.
The crowd applauds vigorously. People stand and thrust their
approval all about like a pack of copasetic lemmings.
Beth, is weeping, and repeating over, and over again,
how spectacular it all was, and how selfless and handsome
the poet is. I, however, am petrified by disbelief and shock.
My knees feel like they are going to commit a mutiny.
"That was it? That was fucking it?"
One of my eyebrows spontaneously twitches uncontrolably.
I'm also convinced I'm on a tv show. My head is twirling around
begging to find a TV crew with cameras. Except, that's impossible
because, that would mean some how my suffering finally payed off
in the form of a righteous mental collapse of the highest imaginable
order, and I'm not that lucky, ever.
On the way home I have the sudden urge to cross lanes,
and end it all, but then a song comes on the radio I love,
and I remember that there's a joint in the glove box.
The world might feel to me, currently, like a giant
ball of off blazing dookie, but I'd already forgotten
why exactly. What a great night for a drive.
I think before I gas it towards a Hunter's moon in
the cold, clear, Autumn sky. Yeah, I'm a poet,
and devilishly charming, who needs good looks
on a night like this.
Author notes
option 1
Written December 16th, 2003
In a list
A contest entry
- Hurum. (Prewrites Allowed) by Colossal Squid.
301 points, ended September 20, 2006, 22 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 34 of 34
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This piece just makes me love you!!!
Anna
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wow this is very interesting, not your usual point of view but unfortunately more prevalent in life.
I know I can relate to this guy in a way even while disliking his attitude, that's not easy to acieve especially with me, it is usually one or the other...
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Great job.
Very well done. I was captivated from beginning to end and got more than a laugh or two out of this. The descriptions of the people are brilliant, if not a tad bit cruel. I do think you created the shallowest man alive. Funny, I think I know him. Great write and good luck in the contest. -
Beautifu; write
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thank you for entering my contest. i think this is clever. we have all fellt like screaming that is it???? on lots of poetic ocasions and i especially love the end of the poem where it short shifts out of story telling mode and in to poetic speach. very cool. i also like how the charictor in the story turns around a waisted event and makes an enspired poem in the car on the drive home. very nice good luck in the contest.
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I'm a professional writer, I know absolutely nothing about politics, or websites.
Now, if I had my left foot up Paris Hilton's ass, and my right fist up George Bush's vagina I guess I'd have a broader opinion. -
I appreciated your candid response but it says something about AP, does it not? I am greatful that we have such a wide input but I hope that people do not exploit this trust.
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Actually, I have nothing to do with this poem.
I made the entire thing up on a whim. -
limited and calculated
Everything about this seems highly crafted. Even the visual seems carefully planned to illicit a desired response. You seem to care very much that a limited audience feel a certain way toward you. My life experience is one of wars, romance, travel on ocean ships, talking to fat and homely people of all genders and races, standing up to bullies, feeling time slide beneath me like a locomotive feels a set of rails. I cry sometimes (Rosa Parks is lying dead today in the Capitol rotunda in Washing D.C. and my heart aches). My knees have been replaced. I am not better than anyone and no less. I celebrate life and am a part of every bit of it. I even read you poem with care. Good luck, my friend. -
this doesnt sound like you especially the last three lines......who needs good looks on a night like this so you would fancy the fat woman then if you had a joint ......have you evr been with an ugly woman they are supposed to try harder( plus they smell better you know hormones and pheramones or is that a bloke...cant remember womens ) so are a better turn on...i liked this a lot its very readable and good company like a friendly chat my god you are going to kill me for that remark ...i mean i love it....my dad was driving along when someone tried to kill themselves by driving on the other side of the road and smashing into loads of parked cars and just to say missing him....it wasnt you was it? i hate punctuation its so unnecessary everyone knows what you mean anyway. why bother with capitals it only slows you down.
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Wow, I really enjoyed this poem. Your word choice is fantastic, and the poem is very entertaining (almost as entertaining as some of the comments you have already). I love the tone, and I rather agree to your reaction to the poem that is within this poem. This was very well-written, I loved it!
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Well, It's a good poem. Love the form. Not really sure it has anything to do with my contest. A lot of attitude, which is not always given in poetry. Job well done. Thank you for entering my contest. Much luvs~Crys
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Lol, you're just as petty as I thought you were. Two comments after I decided I was going to be the 'bigger person' and not reply. Well, first off, to the first insult: I'm in ninth grade, and rather satisfied with my username. Thanks. I also don't tend to change things often, so if I still have this username when I'm in tenth grade, so be it. I guess I'll be considered a tenth grade blowjob on acid. I don't think I need to reply to your second comment, because it really is ignorant and petty and all assumption from a dumbassed pothead. So, I forgive you for that. I've also noticed that this picture was from three years ago. Hmm, I wonder what all the years of smoking pot has done to your "charming" looks?
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You're just upset because you got date raped one night stoned by the quarterback, and you look a bit like Beth in the story darling, that's alright, it happens.
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And I in return would like to wish you luck in the catagory of picking usernames that actually go beyond sounding like a tenth grade blow job on bad acid, or shopping for keds you posh lesbian handbag.
Edited on May 01, 8:57 p.m. because ''. -
Dearest Horus,
I hope that wasn't supposed to offend me in some way, because if it were, I'd just have to reply that the only thing it did do was make you look like more of a jerk. Hum, I've seen you around blindly criticizing other's poetry. Now, while in most cases I agree, I must say, you get a bit offensive when others criticize your work, don't you? I would also like to wish you luck with your capitalization and punctuation deficiency, and hope for the best when it comes to your need to type everything in poetic form (even your comments).
[Kayla]
Edited on May 01, 8:56 p.m. because ''. -
Dear kayla, don't let your vulva get the AIDS
Because then you'd have to smoke pot, just to
not sound like a prude bitch. -
Well, for starters, I could blindly hate this story-poem for one thing. That one thing would have to be the end. I honestly don't find the use of drugs a worthy answer to the question. Music, perhaps, but to be quite honest, I'm not sure it's going to solve your problems or help you through your pain. I also have a raging hate of all drugs, above all pot: which is a direct reference in this piece. Ahh, and I find it a bit hilarious that something so insignificant and ignorant can cause you to "end it all". Now, this is obviously a humorous story-poem (even if you didn't make it out to be humorous). I asked for serious poems in this contest, not petty, smartassed poems about falling apart because someone can't write poetry well. Though, I will be grateful that you're not a horrid writer, and go about judging my contest. Thank you for entering.
[Kayla] -
I loved it! Especially the lines:
"On the way home I have the sudden urge to cross lanes,
and end it all, but then a song comes on the radio I love,
and I remember that there's a joint in the glove box."
Awesome. It wasn't at all what I expected, and I liked that about it too. Great job.
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I will not feed your ego, you know you are handsome, I see no need in me repeating it to you. As far as talent goes, I don't really need to tell you that either, but I will. I do enjoy your work because there is no bullshit in it. I like that. Poetry is written for the sake of the write not the sake of the reader. If they blend it's great, if they don't...oh well.
I am happy you seem to have the same philosophy I do about topics. In the intro to my book I tell the reader..."Some are written from personal experience, others are completely ficticious. My hope is that you will never be able to tell the difference..."
BTW...the literary society at ASU is having a poetry reading April 1, you are welcome to be a guest speaker.
POO
and I promise not to send you anymore IM's meant for someone else. The comment I had left for you was sincere. -
... I'm sorry, but this has nothing to do with your first entry...
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Where the fuck has this gem been hiding? This is wonderful!!! And while you are sticking a skewer through Beth, you could do the same with some of the humourless tossers who have commented on this so far. I just loved this for everything it was saying, how it was being stated and above everything else- attitude. This really is a gem
David
PS Title alone should have you wanting to click on to this
Edited on Dec 21, 8:40 p.m. because ''. -
If you meant to irritate and annoy then well done, and none of the characters remind me of me. I suppose that is what you were aiming for so well done. I shall probably go to bed in a bad mood now. lol (only joking)
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Yeah this is the one i thought was retarded. If i picked it for the contest you wouldnt be bitching at me now would you?
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Yah, okay. Its a good thing you're a poet because I'm feeling somewhat edgy tonight and I'm tempted to whip out the Spleen of Christ and wave it around (back up Pilgrim, I need room) and I may just whop old Beth up 'gain the side of her plump little face and send her whirling into grandma - SCORE! 10 down with one ball! And I got one more left...
This is a metaphor for this cozy little environ eh? That nice poet gentleman is really Everyman, every flipping "poet" (yeah, it'd be in italics, 'cept I can't do italics because my eyes are spinning backwards) in this little contained universe where the "oohs" and "ahs" are from shallow ponds of single celled amoebas masquerading as intelligence scum coating the surface of the blessed holy water. We need to bus in a load of SubGenius Storm Troopers and by god, you'd see the pond water scatter faster than Iraquis before an attack helicopter.
Or am I wrong and this is just a sweet story about misconceptions and expectations not met and the realization of self worth?
Whatever. -
Yet again, the comments entertain me.
You forgot to mention those horrible little cheese cubes, next to the fruit. The ones that are either soft and sweaty or dark and crunchy on the edges. -
Haha, I think you should stand up and take a bow. You've made a lot of people see themselves in this poem,and they don't like what they see very much do they? So they attack you,for pointing out to them what they don't like baout themselves. I think it's rather amusing. hehe.
The songbird poem was great too, hahaha, I remember winning a contest when I was 7 with a poem similar to that,except I described horses! Overall, a big thumbs up.
. haha, I loved it (but that guy is fine enough to ignore his pathetic poetry and adore him anyway) yea,maybe I'm just shallow.
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i liked this piece. the way it told the story, bluntly yet not overly confronting. cleverly done. some of the images you gave were pretty good too. well done, and good luck to you
Strength and Peace
~Tal~ -
This is interesting yet so very rude, Im not sure how to take this but I would hope this isn't you. It's not bad but it's just not my thing. However poetry and writting is an expression and Im sure the point was to offend and upset. So I say your writting did the trick which means It is good. Anyways I give you a thumbs up, not on the content but on the mere fact that you accomplished making me the reader feel what you felt or wanted me to feel
wont you return the favor -
You are a clever writer. I would love to read a novel written by you. Your poetry can be offensive, and even some of your comments. But a writer you are indeed. Very graphic imagery, and very entrenching thoughts and feelings. Keep sharing. We need "your kind" in our midst, you do keep the reader on guard.
Much Love,
Renee
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I made the whole thing up. I'm actually none of the characters. Thank you for your time and opinion. I'm always fascinated by how people respond to certain material and style aproaches, and the way they filter information by thinking about their past and merging the three together. Mine (what you suspect is mine) yours (what we assume is yours) and the story.
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That makes two of us.
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I might say that this comes as no surprise to me . With your obvious intellect you created what could be interpretated as a form of narcissism .....you managed to snub the overweight , the elderly and even what should be a " copain du coeur " , being that someone took pride in what they wrote and read it to an audience . In this case poetic license and inspiration was found in a songbird ( you call it mundane awareness ) Personally I find nothing mundane in nature and the worship of it in poetry form .
I must admit that I did smile at your satyrical sense of humour , but maybe it would be better used in a less critical response to others , I.e , their looks , their age and yes even their writes <-----if they are of a somewhat more simple style then yours . But then again , who am I to take the audacity to tell you how to write . Respect for the written word , no matter what the inspiration .....is what I try to strive for .
Reenie
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I will certainly applaud this poem! Just for the sheer audacity of being so conceited and condescending! But really, it's been a while since actually had such a good laugh.
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