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    dots Submission Name: The Digdots

    Author: CynicalxDreamer
    ASL Info:    31/m/7th Level of Hell
    Elite Ratio:    2.46 - 40/100/64
    Words: 469
    Class/Type: Poetry/Venting
    Total Views: 895
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3199

       This is something new. Something experimental for me. I recently had someone try to break down my poetry not for the sake of constructive criticism but merely to be an ass...to make me feel meager.

    So, this was my response.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Digdots

    Its not complicated
    Its not complex
    Writing does not mean thesaurus + dictionary
    Equals poetry
    You can keep it simple...let it freeflow
    You spew verbage at me like an existential arsenal
    Of pronouns, adjectives, and fragment sentences
    This is poetry, its not an arms race
    This isn't a showdown, a slam to undercut your repetoire of description
    Your flare, your creme de le creme of literary depiction
    If you think I'm packing heat, its only the fire from my mouth
    The fiery narrative rolling off my tongue, spewing contextual ideas
    Visionary pursuits into this illusionary war of mental pursuits
    You're rolling up cannons of Frost, Keats, Shelly, and Poe
    Decrying my prose of despair, depression and woe

    My words are not epic feats to immortalize me in a $5.00 novella
    To rot and rest on a Wal-Mart shelf of modern poetica
    I write to give release on the pressure valve of my mind
    To toxic spill the thoughts and ideas
    We're all writers, all philosophers of paper and pen
    Describing the world on Waffle House napkins
    In the words of the late Heath Ledger
    "Why so serious?"
    This is unfiltered, unfettered, uncontrolled word vomit
    Nuclear fallout from the atomic bomb of uncensored thought

    My prose, my words, my vision of the sonnet and narrative
    Pulls not from some attempt for recognition and praise
    It's so I don't blow this shit up like its Taihitti with French Manhattan Projects
    So while you're still reeling, still weapon dealing your novella
    Of counter stroke and tongue flex of venomous malcontenting lines
    My mind isn't funneling your verbage, your attempt to tell me
    Its not a pattern...its not meter....its not rhyme
    This isn't kindergarten and I don't color in the lines
    I live in a world colored by Kool-aid phrases and /4/chan references
    Of magical school girls, Gundam offtakes, and Fisting of the North star death scenes
    Of boom headshots, Desert Eagles and prayers, with a smattering of calls for 'Medic'
    I exist in a realm of 50k minus fucking dkps and Onyxia wipes
    Take my pod rolling and gate camps, my zoomed reticule on your skull fragments
    With a Busta Wolf and 'Are you OK?' in bad Engrish
    Of FAIL trolling, glib comebacks, and suddenly blind saging

    For you to try and cordone me off into 'meter and measure'
    Here is my diatribe of rebellious heiniousity
    I'm not here for a showdown or turf war of prolific theorization
    I am in this place for the breakdown of static formation
    The entropic denial of rudimentary reasoning
    I am here to write, to speak
    And if you're here to shoot me down
    Then come at me with your boomsticks of condemnation
    And I'll counter with mediocre procrastination
    In the form of the simple words of a layman's Voltaire
    Saying "...whatever"

    Submitted on 2009-09-25 10:13:07     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

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