An endless stream of platitudes I string before you
Then I add some rhyme the way all good poets do
I shake it up and mix it too so that you can all discover
how much my hurt and anger is at my ex-lover
I post it hoping there is someone who will hear
the longing in my heart for someone to be near
Tomorrow I will check my in-box to see
who has answered my whiny little plea
This is quite hilarious but the crazy thing about is that you have explained reasons why ppl post their work, get on facebook or ya know check their emails and expect a response they can feed off of within their circle of friends and fellow poets (per say or perhaps)
This is a unique piece from the perspective of that it should be read throughout the internet.
Sorta like those messages that get passed on
through text messages, AIMs, pms etc.
I thought of the person who would say:
"Well I know someone who should read this
and I shoud pass it onto them."
I can barely imagine a 'chat room version'
as definite as this here.
Overall it tis funny but the laughter one gets from reading it does not overshadow truth.
In other words..What Hecate said.
This made me laugh. Very true, if uncomfortably close to home.
But at this point, this poem is little more than an insult to people who write angsty poems. It even seems a little, just a little, petty. It seems like venting. I think, if you care to invest the time and energy, you could bring it beyond that, into a real insight. After all, it's not just bad teenage poets who display their ugliest, messiest emotions on a page for the world to see. It's everyone on this website, everyone who has a Facebook or MySpace account, or a blog, or pretty much everyone who owns a computer. And it's not just bad teenage poets who feel gratified when a stranger responds with sympathy, or wounded when they respond with criticism. It's pretty much everyone who owns a computer. Why do we display the worst parts of ourselves to the world--the parts that rage and rant and whine, the parts that stream endless platitudes, the parts that just have to tell everyone about how much Jamie hurt them, the little-kid part of us that can't stop whining "it's not fair, it's not fair!"? Why do we care what strangers think about our messy breakup? The way we handle these situations is ludicrous but true.
You could take this poem beyond raging at the emos and into spoofing everyone. And you could do it with real empathy and compassion. And if you did, that would be a poem I'd love to read.