My Little Joke

It was a day like any other day. The sun rose, I went to work. The sun set, I returned from work. To my computer I went, drained from a long day of making burgers and absorbing unhappy customers. As is my daily routine, I logged on to my favorite writing website, a great community full of brilliant writers and great, honest feedback. Okay fine, not so true, but it is my favorite writing website.

Truth is, I really did love that feedback back in the day. No matter the piece I posted, and no matter the quality of my work, I seemed to always get a “Good Job” and a “Can’t wait to read more.” message. Every now and then, maybe 1 in 10, I’d get a real response. The kind that actually demonstrates some base knowledge in the ways of writing. Such a blow to my ego those responses were.

And as such, in the beginning it was good. I wrote much and received much praise. It was definitely good.

Along came my dreams of publication. A little tick in the back of my brain at first, soon growing into a much more substantial nagging.
Time passed, I grew restless. I wanted to know what people actually thought of my work. I was getting angry. The most telling of any of the angering reviews I would receive was in response to poetry.

As one might imagine the most commonly written piece one might stumble upon in a writing community is poetry. Every god awful writer on the face of the earth thinks they can write and understand poetry.

I’ve written a few poems in my time; it’s a good way to express something in a short and heartfelt manner. I don’t hold any delusions that they’re any good, but I like to write them and figured I’d go ahead and share them with the literary community on my favorite website.

How the hell do you think a guy like me with no practice who just ripped out a couple stanzas is capable of writing the brilliant poetry that I’m told that I’m writing by the idiots on this website? I wondered that very question. Maybe I’m the reincarnation of Wordsworth and I don’t even know it.

I was struck with the beauty of this possibility. Just think of it. Me, a brilliant poet. Words shall flow and I shall be berated with praise. (Cue the violins.)

In the midst of my self praise and planning for the future, I realized that there was a truly great possibility that I might not be the reincarnation of one of the greatest poets of all time.

I realized that I must know for sure. The question of whether I was worthy of my praise arose, and I felt that I must know for sure what the case was. And as such, it came to be that on that very day, after I had returned from work and the sun had set, I hatched my brilliant plan. Oh such brilliance. (Here’s where the organ comes in.)
I LOVE SUMMER

Blood curdling screams of horror and love
Surrounded by thousands of happy, everlasting bunny rabbits
Squashing them to my amusement and dismay
"Mother!" I cried

A well of darkness flows unkempt
Igniting the flame in the sea of my soul
Molesting my fantasies into nightmares
Belying the powers that are unknown

Chasing the end of a colorless rainbow
Illuminated by the candy rope in the tunnel
Rabid kittens gnaw internally
Meowing softly to the music

My scabbed heart sweats pus
A diuretic page of my thoughts
Expressionless chickens mock me
Efficient chaos ruling nothing

Indecisive 'societies' of war
Vanity lies in the grooves of the make believe
Shards of thought, slicing deeper
I love you too, Pippin

This is my beautiful poem. Oh yes, as I hope you have guessed this is a completely meaningless bullshit poem. Read what a few people have to say about this though.

"This is a simply lovely poem."

"This is so great!"

"This really touched my heart. Your summer reminds me of some of mine."

"speechless"

"This poem is full of sense torturing power. Some of the lines give the reader such emotion that they are forced to twist their face into emotion. Your style is unique, almost random, yet at the same time a shallow thinker could almost make sense of it. You rythm is good, it flows 90% of the time. As for the other 10% I don't know....the way yo rhyme is also unique. It's not the cliche, 'mop on top of the pot' kind of rhyming either. Well done, I really liked it (and I'm not saying that just to win the contest). It seems to tell of things that aren't possible, things that shouldn't go. A rainbow isn't colorless, chickens cannot mock you, much less do it without expression. It has a strong subliminal message, sh, don't let them figure it out...Have a nice day and Bravo! Keep writing!!"

"OUTSTANDING!!!! I cried after only the second stanza. I felt this, strongly. I love how you mix firghtening images of love with loving images of fright. Genius, pure genius. Is this being published? I'm putting this on the review board, you sir are a god."

"A puzzling piece, however I love the ambivalence of the words within. I get the feeling the speaker of the poem is searching for something worthwhile within the "efficient chaos", and that he/she feels wrong within the world (the chaotic situation the speaker describes being a metaphor for the world today). A struggle for identity perhaps...Interesting piece."

"This sounds extremely haunting. It will probably give me nightmares. It sounds like a patchwork of many broken dreams stitched together. Depth and darkness, short and sweet - just how I like it. The conflicting ideas in this poem are very scary. "

"Wow, I don't know what the people who rated you so low were on....but that poem is AWESOME!!! :) I really liked all the contrasting images, especially "Chasing the end of a colourless rainbow." It sort of shows that sometimes, the things (and people) we lust after are really superficial and won't help us to become better people or find meaning in life. The first line, "Bloodcurdling screams of horror and love," is a great opening, it conveys just how painful life, love, and pretty much any extreme emotion can be, and this theme is very effectively summed up in the last line, "I love you too, Pippin." I'm a writer too (obviously, lol), but I don't think I could ever write something as good as this poem. Keep writing, you have a wonderful gift :) "

"Strange poem. The conttrasting images have a wonderful effect.
I do have some questions though. In the first stanza, who is "squashing" the bunnies? The screams?"

"Igniting the flame in the sea of my soul" is a very interesting image, like fire on water. I REALLY like the line that comes after that.
There are a lot of parts in this poem that leave the reader wondering. An example: "Meowing softly to the music" -- what music?
I definitely don't understand the last stanza at all. It doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of the poem. It doesn't paint an eerie picture like the rest of the poem.
This poem reminds me of a Salvador Dali painting "

"Interesting use of words not normally associated with the "darker" side of the soul.
My scabbed heart sweats pus - this particular line really made me shudder - which is a good thing ;) - as it shows that you really got under the skin and made me "see" what you were writing.
My only criticism is the second line which is a bit stilted and doesn't flow as well as the rest.. but overall, great job."

"While I loved the word choices and the conflict/contrast of rabid kittens and screams of horror and love, I just had no idea what you were trying to share, here. Expressionless chickens mock me, for instance. Expressionless, silent . . .how can they mock? Anyway, I gave it a four because I enjoyed reading it and found the word choices awesome in their power and imagery, but I felt like an idiot because I had no idea what you were trying to say."

You may not believe me here, but I must say that these are all real reviews of the poem from real people on a real website. While some of these seem as if they might be a bit patronizing, it is clearly evident that a good portion of these people liked this poem. Now, I'm forced to ask this question. Why the hell would they do something like that? I guess it's just the possibility that this poem seems like it should be good. Someone reads something they don't understand and they assume it must be good otherwise they'd understand why not. Woe is the world that cannot recognize when something's a flaming piece of crap. Oh well, at least I got my answer here, eh? With the exception of a few very intelligent persons (and trust me, I let these people know about my ruse and they thought it was hilarious) the bulk of the public that read this had no idea what they were talking about.