I admit it: I'm a sucker for bad poetry, particularly intentionally bad poetry.* Such a fan am I of that lowly art form that I even devoted an entire page to it on my (poorly designed, badly-in-need-of-updating) Cosmic Relief web site. Originally this page appeared as an entry in my BLP (book-like-product), Cosmic Relief. That Bad Poetry page, as well as the web page, was inspired by the (unintentionally) awful offerings typically seen in New-Age/New-Wage free publications:
What's a true Community publication without the creative outpourings of local poets? Metaphysical and wholistic-type freebie rags are famous for their willingness to open their pages to those in the local subculture who have been touched, slapped or sucker-punched by the muse...
The web page is an expansion of the printed version, with a call for contributions from other awful poets. And indeed I have received a few contributions, and will publish them as soon as I get around to updating my CR web site. But yesterday I received this gem that I just had to publish here as well. Why? It should be obvious: it's about ME. How could I not share it with you, Dear Ones?
Enjoy.
And if you would like to share some bad poetry of your own, even if it's not about me, please do not hesitate to send your contribution to me at cosmic.connie@juno.com (subject line: Utterly Appalling Poetry).
Cosmic Connie
by A. Poet
Constant as the
Northern Star
I delight in your
Whirled
Twirled
Musings
From afar
With
Ya
Knobbly knees
Ya
Give me a
Seizure
As I
CELEBRATE
The
Now-ness
of
How Things
Are
A. Poet is a pseudonym for His Ascended Galactic Radiance, 9th level Lord of the Photon Belt, Leader of the Council of the Wise Lamas, Bringer of Justice, Bearer of the Sacred Flame of Sirius and the Sacred Sceptre of Arcturus, Emissary of Healing Light , Sustainer of All that is Just and Good, Emanator of the Golden Harmonic Vibration of Zuzz.
* And then there are the unintentionally bad poets, whom I have also found quite inspiring.
2 comments:
Eyes gazing upon her
Silent in her cerulean repose;
What Secrets lie hidden
Beyond the borders so secure?
Shall I wonder, struggle to behold,
Or merely cast those phantom images behind my eyes
Into solitary reverie, and thus, go blind?
Lovely, Rev! And it gives a whole new meaning to the Hitchhikers Guide credo: "Don't panic, and bring a towel." Thanks! :-)
Post a Comment