The Conservative Cave
Current Events => The DUmpster => Topic started by: GOBUCKS on April 03, 2010, 01:08:03 AM
-
It has occurred to me very recently that the quality of the CalPig's "poems" has notably declined, a situation that we heretofore thought impossible. I'm wondering if perhaps these horrid, miserable, execrable collections of words are part of a strategy by DUmmy C-Peg to force better acceptance of her earlier awful posts. After all, as you read the "poem" below, it's hard to recall "blink, blink, blink, blink" without a tiny twinge of nostalgia. I guess we should just be thankful it doesn't include any of her nauseating efforts at eroticism:
CaliforniaPeggy (1000+ posts) Sat Apr-03-10 12:46 AM
Original message
My poem: Interrupted Song
Watching the words scroll by mesmerized by
them
seeing all the names we’ll never know for people we’ll never know
hearing the melody enchanted all around
wondering who they are where they went where they came from
what their lives mean
or might have meant to anyone who happened upon them
how often do we watch
the names scroll through our lives not knowing anything
but wishing their song might not have been
interrupted
© 2010 MLC
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=105x9318903
I challenge anyone to read that mess straight through without being forced to go back over some of the words. It's rare to come across such an awkward collection of words, or words more deserving of TLB's critique:
Don't get me wrong - her poetry isn't bad. It's awful. It's the kind of thing that would blind God if He had to read it. It's a collection of words that should be machine-gunned down, one by one, preferably out in the desert, with no witnesses, and a nice young girl who could be counted on to claim that she'd been shooting jackrabbits. It's so bad, mirrors crack if anyone looking into a mirror while thinking of one of CP's poems runs the risk of permanent scarring, even blindness, while thinking of it as he peers into the mirror.
Her poetry needs immolation. She needs to have all writing impletments and keyboards, paper, blank walls, toilet paper, paper towels, margins in newspapers, and even the blank part of framed works of art removed from her home until this idea that she's writing "poetry" passes. Maybe medication will help.
NYC_SKP (1000+ posts) Sat Apr-03-10 01:09 AM
Response to Original message
1. Awwww.
That's poignant, CaliforniaPeggy.
DUmmy NYC_SKP has written "poignant" when he meant "repugnant".
CaliforniaPeggy (1000+ posts) Sat Apr-03-10 01:10 AM
Response to Reply #1
We were watching a movie the other night, and the scrolling credits inspired me...
You just never know where the great ones will find their inspiration.
LeftyFingerPop (1000+ posts) Sat Apr-03-10 01:15 AM
Response to Original message
3. Your writing is getting more aggressive
and this is a great poem, Peg.
CaliforniaPeggy (1000+ posts) Sat Apr-03-10 01:18 AM
Response to Reply #3
5. My dear LeftyFingerPop...
Hmm...I hadn't thought of it in those terms, but I can see your point.
I'm just trying out different styles and seeing how well they fit me...
I'm really glad you enjoyed it, sweetie!
The style that would best fit the CalPig's writing talent is the one commonly referred to as "incommunicado".
-
DUmmy NYC_SKP has written "poignant" when he meant "repugnant".
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
CaliforniaPeggy (1000+ posts) Sat Apr-03-10 01:10 AM
Response to Reply #1
We were watching a movie the other night, and the scrolling credits inspired me...
Don't do drugs, kids.
-
aggressive. lol. That is one way to put it.
-
I want to take just a minute here and post a few examples of real poetry in order to have something to compare to. Maybe the primitives have never read real poetry before.
The Raven - by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more."
Nothing Gold Can Stay - by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
The Phoenix and the Turtle - by Shakespeare
Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.