Thu 13 Oct 2005
I went to a poetry reading… once, and a few times even. I went to read, but of course listened, too. It was mostly guys like myself wooing unseen victims with non-rhyming words of love-n-humpin’. Damn, is that how I am, too? Maybe I was hoping that some beautiful woman would hear my heart, my words, and snatch me away from my stinging loneliness. Um, that didn’t happen, and that was in 1993.
I can only conclude that poetry should be defined as “Man’s first attempt at non-violent seduction”.
August 5th, 2007 at 11:13 am
Ahhh, but as a man, you lie to yourself, even here. You think you are merely seducing someone, but in reality, you are the closest thing to a female with an eating disorder. Let me connect the dots, and lift the median on the parallel…
You write poetry because you are an emotional bulemic (we can smell our own! lol), in that you voraciously feast on the incoming emotions and feelings, but later, feel the need to ‘purge’, or ‘cleanse’ yourself of everything you’ve ingested mentally. The good part is that it is a non-violent regurgitative act! That, and there are other ‘purgers’ like myself who read your vomit for what it is… and we understand it. I hope I’m not encouraging bulemia in the traditional sense, but I think you catch my meaning?