Pudge Is A Bad Man
Long before the All-Star Voting thing or Jesux, I was in high school and played one of my best pranks ever.
It was my senior year, and the school's literary magazine was accepting submissions. I submitted a few under my own name. Ironically, the point of the ones they accepted was that imagery and symbolism are nonsense, which was a direct assault on most of the works in the magazine. But that wasn't a prank, I just liked those verses, which happened to be from a song I wrote called Images (live performances by my band available at that link).
I decided (in keeping with the aforementioned anti-imagery in Images) to write the worst poem that I could, and submit it. I don't remember exactly how I decided to write it, whether it was free-from or whether I came up with theme first, but the result was pure crap. I submitted it under a pseudonym, and ... it was chosen for the very last page of the literary magazine, which, as you may know, is normally reserved for the best, most poignant, piece.
When I saw it, I was in English class and I laughed out loud and told a friend what happened. One of the editors of the magazine overheard what I said. She probably still hates me to this day, but man, it was funny.
Without further ado, here's the crappy poem I wrote:
Roofers
It was my senior year, and the school's literary magazine was accepting submissions. I submitted a few under my own name. Ironically, the point of the ones they accepted was that imagery and symbolism are nonsense, which was a direct assault on most of the works in the magazine. But that wasn't a prank, I just liked those verses, which happened to be from a song I wrote called Images (live performances by my band available at that link).
I decided (in keeping with the aforementioned anti-imagery in Images) to write the worst poem that I could, and submit it. I don't remember exactly how I decided to write it, whether it was free-from or whether I came up with theme first, but the result was pure crap. I submitted it under a pseudonym, and
When I saw it, I was in English class and I laughed out loud and told a friend what happened. One of the editors of the magazine overheard what I said. She probably still hates me to this day, but man, it was funny.
Without further ado, here's the crappy poem I wrote:
Roofers
closing in, allowed to fall--Randolph Hsilgne
Night sweeps over the land like the
blanket I pull over my
quavering head.
Things I have done
Dreams
(nightmares)
I have acted out
haunt my soul
shout my sin like so many
roofers,
stepping
dropping things
(nightmares)
on the
roof
(conscience)
sins I have forgotten reform as
debris, falling through the
air-conditioning vent
reminding me
not letting Me
forget
the
(sin)
debris.
"It is the common fate of the indolent to see their rights become a prey to the active. The condition upon which God hath given liberty to man is eternal vigilance; which condition if he break, servitude is at once the consequence of his crime and the punishment of his guilt."
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