Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

Man, I Am Kicking Some Serious Poem Ass.

I don't know if too many people are noticing what's been going on over there in my original poetry blog AKA A Pocketful Of Poesy, but I'm just about to have to rename it A Pocketful Of Kicking Ass On Poems or something! I just dropped seven poems in six hours up in that mug, and the standard of quality is PAR PLUS!

I mean, I know a lot of folks may not particularly care for poems. Particularly, poetry blogs. I know some of you folks out there might have been bitten before. Visited a poetry blog, with your hopes about where you'd expect them to be, only to be bitten by the quality involved. And that bite, perhaps, has left its sting. But if that's the case, I don't pretend to claim to imply that your experience going over and reading my poetry blog is going to be any better or worse than that. How could I? What more or less could you expect from me, but pretty much the same? Poetry is poetry, right?

Heck. I'd have to be some cocky son of a bull-horn, to go touting some kind of exaggerated report of myself about, as if my poetry is somehow more than just about what you've come to expect from the norm of the form. I mean, surely you know already, whether or not you like poetry - don't you? No, if that's been your experience so far, if poetry has left you pretty much cold, well, I doubt mine is going to suddenly ring the bell suspended in your breathlessly awaiting soul, your soul bereft of poetry, your soul just waiting for the right dude to come along swinging that big ol' gong-rope. And I assure you - believe me - I am that dude.

But that's ultimately, that's something you'll have to decide for yourself if you ever want to truly believe it. That's the call you're going to have to make. I can't believe me for you.

All I'm trying to say is, I'm in there kicking poem ass. It's like a royal ass-house of poetry-beatings going on in there. I'm dishing out black eyes to rhyme and meter alike. I'm dusting up all kinds of verse - free name it! I am in there treating similes like they were metaphors. I'm turning the whole very idea of poetry into an allegory of itself.

Don't believe me? Fine.

Anyway. At this rate, I'm going to hit 365 for the year by November's end, and take the whole rest of the year off. And if so, thank God. Because man, I need a break. I can't keep up this pace. It's murderous.

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