MEAN PEOPLE SUCK

Especially when you are

1.  Edgar Poe— and they murder you and through elaborate machinations libel you as a drunkard and a suicide.

2.   Sylvia Plath— and your husband (Ted Hughes) who you adore cheats on you and leaves you with two small children in an ill-heated flat during the coldest winter in years.

3.  Garcia Lorca— and they shoot you and throw you in an unmarked grave.

4.  The 13 poets—and you are executed at Lubyanka Prison in Moscow in 1952.

5.   Christopher Marlowe— and you are murdered in a tavern.

 6.  John Keats— and they say your poetry sucks and you should quit poetry and go back to your drams and pills.

7.  A writer of good rhymes— and you are scorned for being a rhymer by modernists.

8.  A good poet— and you’re scorned because you do not rhyme.

9.  A bad poet— and you are scorned for it.

10  A person who has to read negative opinions on someone’s blog.

6 Comments

  1. notevensuperficial said,

    August 2, 2010 at 2:19 pm

    11. Ezra Pound– and your racist dementia and inveterate irascibility inhibit people from appreciating the beauty of lines of yours like:

    And now the ants seem to stagger
    as the dawn sun has trapped their shadows,
    this breath wholly covers the mountains
    it shines and divides
    it nourishes by its rectitude
    does no injury
    overstanding the earth it fills the nine fields
    to heaven

    • notevensuperficial said,

      August 2, 2010 at 2:27 pm

      The formatting didn’t allow for the lines’ margination, which, in a tiny but relevant way, contributes to their meaning. This fragment is from Canto LXXXIII, which is concerned with the unrealizable peace that is discerned – and incompletely participated with – in natural process.

  2. horatiox said,

    August 2, 2010 at 3:17 pm

    When the persians or scythians are coming (or the harvest for that matter), and Supania’s playing his lyre, telling ancient Homerica tales enchanting the youth (even those of soldiering age), the leaders of the polis (or any citizens) probably felt that Supania should be silenced (or perhaps converted into useful propagandists ala Pound). That was Soc. in the Republic–

    Which is to say life is mean. History and economics are mean. Daffodils don’t have much staying power (actually Pound says something that re Stendhal…that Stendhal rightly or wrongly thought poets ancien regime, tits on a bull….).

    Daffodillies, Supa! waa

    • notevensuperficial said,

      August 3, 2010 at 2:14 am

      Daffodils don’t have much staying power

      “Daffodils” (family Amaryllidiceae, genus Narcissus) are perhaps 100 million years old, having evolved during the Cretaceous period. That’d be something like 85 million years more longevity (so far) than the family Hominidae, which might include you, bore – and if you are a hominid, makes a bet on the lengthier posterity (to now) of daffodils than hominids alarmingly safe.

      That was Soc. in the Republic- [. . .] actually Pound says something that re Stendhal

      Of course, your biological scholarship beggars your philosophical and literary researches, bore – much as Pluto’s atmosphere is ‘warmer’ than interstellar gas.

      • horatiox said,

        August 3, 2010 at 2:29 am

        no, you’re just a….daffodil! And when Socrates says….no more lyrical poets (ie daffodils), you feel compelled to qualify, justify..whine, in short.

        Some of us value Logos, Supa. authentic Logos….even place it above the WF Buckley or Ayn Rand school you prefer. Now, yr favorite passages from the Fountainhead…wow. That might entertain some.

        Anyway, the sh*ts on with you, puto. Eat yr wheaties.

      • notevensuperficial said,

        August 3, 2010 at 2:53 am

        authentic Logos

        That’s the spirit, comatosex!

        No evidence, no argument, no context, no psychosis-independent reference, no support even for lobotomogenic abuse (“Ayn Rand”??).

        Must try harder, putillo – even kids have the initiative and the moxie at least to fake data.

        What “sh*ts” are you talking about? The material you scoop out of your head and throw at the screen right before you click ‘Submit Comment’?


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