Tag Archives: Poet

The Dangers of Being a Pretend Poet – Traveling Internationally

The dangers are legion, but when you travel internationally foreigners mess with your mind. The problem is, however, when you’re in their country, they technically aren’t foreigners.

Here’s an example, I was in an Athens bar, and I asked the bartender where the Acropolis is. He said, “Which one?” So I said, “Hey man, don’t mess with me, I’m American!“

Now, you can get away with that in Barcelona, because the Spaniards will just pull out a squirt gun and spray water on your shirt. But in Athens, the Greeks will pour Ouzo on your head and try to set you on fire, so I profusely apologized and then told him, “I’m Canadian.” That solved everything, and we spent the rest of the night mocking Americans.

By the way, acropolis doesn’t mean what I thought it meant. An acropolis is the highest hill in a city, so nearly every city in Greece has an acropolis.

Tengo Leche, International Affairs Editor

The Further Dangers of Being a Pretend Poet

The thing about writing poetry is
no one cares that you write poetry.
I found that curious at first.

Then I joined a writing group.

And the thing about a writing group is
no one cares that you write.
I found that curious at first.

Then I read what they wrote
and I'm no longer curious.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

The Poet Taster

Why does Homer's Muse disdain me?
Why won't nymphs touch my flute?
When heroes sail the wine-dark sea
why do I stay home and salute?

When will I know love from lust?
Why do both turn my brain to peat?
Why are lies the only words I trust?
Why is mud the only pie I eat?

My miserable muse is a mouse in a cage
who refuses to obey my command
and when I touch the cold, chaste page
it slaps the dry pen out of my hand.

Wicked muse, eat your stale cheese
but blow your foul breath on another fake,
allow my feeble tongue to unfreeze
for I've forms to fill and calls to make
and I'm nearing the end of my coffee break.

Luvgood Cap, Editor-in-Chief

A Tribute to Unknown

So many people have created stunning works of art, and we don’t know their names.  So many more people have created crap and because they are impossible to shame, everyone knows their names.  In terms of literature, some of the most interesting and inspiring works were written by history’s most prolific author:  Unknown. 

It’s Unknown who wrote the Old Testament, as it’s called by Christians.  Jews call it the Torah, which means Jesus Christ!  Quit coopting our stuff.  You do this all the time.  It’s also Unknown who wrote Pearl, Sundiata, El Cid, The Epic of Gilgamesh, Fifty Shades of Grey (The Geriatric Years), Beowulf, and many more works that put bone and flesh on the human condition.

We don’t need social media to inform us that Fame is fickle. We don’t need more grieving parents to remind us that Equity and Justice have never lived here. Time strips away everything we treasure, so it’s a blessing these works have survived in any form.  Even if the poets’ names are lost in the dank cellar of Antiquity’s library, their voices have survived . . . thus far.  Remember poor Sappho.  Her name survives but callous Time has denied us so much of her voice. 

Gladiola Overdrive, Chief Editor – July 17, 2017

Thoughts on the Dangers of Pretending to be a Poet (Part 3)

The dangers are legion, but this post pertains to mockery.

The harshest, obviously, is from your parents. “You are wasting your time and embarrassing the family,” my father says. Then he adds. “No one reads them anyway.”

“How can my poems embarrass the great Carp name if no one reads them?”

“Your unread poems aren’t the embarrassment. You are.”

My mother is gentler. “Muckypants, can you really be a poet if no one reads your poems?”

“You read my poems, Mom.”

“Oh, yes, that’s . . . right. Of course, I do. They’re very . . . quite long, aren’t they?”

“Well, I think they’re only as long as they need to be.”

“Oh, bless your heart.”

As anyone from Roanoke will tell you – if someone says “bless your heart,” you just said something stupid.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief