'Tis a terrible thing to watch the descent of a talented (?) artist into madness. Oy.
classmates sharing tidbits indeed! why doesn't it include poetry, my future that is, may i ask? do you not understand the complexities of my verse? or are you adverse? indeed! what if Poe faced such rejection? i daresay he'd have gone mad. aha! that's it! you think me mad, don't you? oh, diabolical twist of fate. dear reader, do you not see? she thinks me mad! she thinks me off center! she suspects that i am in league with some diabolical force from which a vortex sucks the lifeblood. her critical barbs sting like a vampire's filthy tooth. oh, woe! she has set the rats against me. she viles my name. she does not want another rhyme to slither from my fingers to keyboard, to relieve pressure from my teeming brain. she is loathe to kindle within me the creative spirit. she stoops to conquer. she all but snuffs the flame of my candle or blows the snuff from it's little anatomical box between thumb and forefinger, so that she might see me sweat with withdrawal not from the drugs alone, but from the very essence of creation itself!!!call you? huh! why would i want further abuse, obtuse one? nay. i shall wither as so you wish: in my dark and dreary frame of reference, a portrait of the artist as a madman, sepia toned, and alas! caught like a spider in the vast david mitchell network.Oh, you'll be sorry, Ms. Lafferty that you were responsible for the day the poetry died!is this mad enough for you?oh, you make me so mad!
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15 comments:
this is some of the best poetry of Western Civilization
It is a sad, sad thing you do driving this anonymous poet anonymously mad. Sure deep emotions inspire some artists, but taunting them as you do! What do you think, you have poetic license to do this?
Jeanne, didn't your mother ever teach you anything?
Of course he lashes out! You make him so mad.
I sit here in the wee hours of the morning, chaneling many of our former high school classmates, even though they aren't yet dead. They crowd my head, push and shove my thoughts around, as though they were in a NYC transit car. I've silenced them all. I will not stand for rude chaneling.
You are in league with Daniel Webster's devil.
Where is the civility of yester year?
I am chaneling somebody here: She says about this lashing out, "Why it's six of one and half a dozen of another."
My, that's profound!
Davey Mitchell's mother is also lashing out, but only because her son hasn't thought about her for nearly a decade now. She says she can read his mind, and that all he cares about is that stupid Network of his. "Like he even had a friend in those days. Pinch me, if I'm alive, will you?"
Please don't provoke other tirades from this sensitive poet! Do you want him to cut off his ear? Or perhaps walk into the sea? And heaven forbid if he owns a rifle and admires the Hemmingways. You just can't leave people alone, can you?
Oy, you are so mean spirited. Would it hurt to fake a few random acts of kindness?
Jim's right. This poetry is brilliant.
tomc is one of those rare critics who got it right. thank you tom for seeing the correct slant of this poetry.
I am recommending a new book by Joyce Carol Oates entitled "Wild Nights." If you read the Poe Posthumous segment of this work, you will see that the misery poet is on to a great thing in his poetry. My God, he is channeling Edgar A. himself!
Have you noticed that these comments run in sequential order? Wouldn't it be wonderful if life did that?
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