Meth: a Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral

And the Third Best Poet on WdC goes to...

I had a bit of a run-in with a fellow poet here on WdC a while ago. I became upset with him because I reviewed one of his poems...a poem that touched me, and I thought deserved a lot of praise and gift points. The piece popped up in my recommended reading and because the title drew me to it, I clicked without bothering to look at WHO the author was. It was some time ago and I have learned a lot since then about being wary of those superior to myself, along with the expectations I used to have as far as giving reviews is concerned.

As I always do, I put a lot of thought into the words I wrote to him. Regardless of this, after four days of waiting for, "Thanks, mate." I began to think perhaps something I had said in the review had upset him. Eventually, I simply couldn't resist sending a slightly indignant email. And the four-word reply read..."Do I know you?"

Long story short, he explained to me in a slow voice, so even I could understand, that he receives too many reviews and emails to possibly reply to them all. To which I wondered, if my username was Trixy from Trinidad or Candy from Cali, perhaps a response might have been more forthcoming.

But, this is not why I am writing about him today. The reason I am writing this is because once I did do my portfolio research on said author, it became obvious to me that he simply wasn't 'my type' anyway. And this was confirmed by the very bold statement I read declaring himself the third-best poet here on WdC. Now, whilst I can say that he is very good, I do wonder how the hell he came to this conclusion.

I'm not sure if there is a competition held annually in the Ultimate Poetry Championships (UPC) and my not-so-gracious fellow author had fought it out among the best to become third runner-up for that year. Or if this is a peer-reviewed title...a title that no one as yet has asked my opinion on. Perhaps I am not yet qualified to gauge such magnificence and must first win some sort of B or C-grade event in order to move up the rankings and have the correct discipline and skills required to know what a good poem is. I mean, who knows?

All I do know is that when I read something I enjoy...a piece that speaks to me in ways that I can recognise as being pretty damn special, that to me is good poetry. I think the answer is right under my dimwitted nose...I don't have the necessary clique to even BE noticed, let alone be involved in such high-stakes, artistic endeavours. I've always been quite happy to be invisible, and that's lucky for me because that is exactly what I am to anyone willing to decree themselves as third, second or first (and likely up to and beyond twentieth) best poets on WdC.

I wonder how those ratings place in the top one hundred world rankings of best poets on the planet? And over what time frame the judges might look whilst deciding who are the best of these highly skilled and insightfully wordy proponents of free verse (because rhyming poetry is so 1990s...and those who do that are simply imbeciles, without any true artistic merit worth mentioning). Are you hearing the bitterness of a rhymer here? Rhetorically speaking because I know you don't need my answer to know the truth.

This 'us and them' mentality is the clique within a group that I very much doubt anyone would want to acknowledge. Particularly those 'in the know'. 'The know' being, those who are in the top one hundred best all-time poets in the multiverse...ever. And of course, those who WISH they could be, but have yet to do enough crawling up the asses of anyone who might help elevate them up the charts to eventual poetic stardom.

Ahhhhh...if only I could be THAT good? And hooray that I never ever could because I would kill myself if my self-esteem got so low that this became a goal.

But I have to ask...what is the eventual reward for becoming the third-best poet on WdC? Because if that reward is looking down upon the inferior, from the greatest heights, and then harshly critiquing (for their own good, of course) any and all who might dare to present their stupid little poems for review by one so awesome; who probably haven't kissed his, or the even more superior, second and first place getters, asses, with the right degree of worship (or for that matter, anyone who might ACTUALLY be good enough to knock them off their high horses), then the price of fame would be worth every single jealous and envious person who walks away from all the bullshit, thinking...what a bunch of wankers.