However, I had kind of a cool idea for an angry poem today. I wanted it to be long and epic and full of rage. I wanted it to articulate a kind of creative fury through the use of clever punchlines. What I ended up doing was sort of mashing together some awkward rhymes and giving it a re-read and bursting with shocked laughter at how hateful it was. It doesn't convey any sort of feelings that I actually have, I just wanted to remodel Emma Lazarus' The New Colossus. But as you can see, it managed to contort itself into something my great grandfather, raised in small town Texas at the turn of the century, would probably have beamed at. Have a look-see:
you know what
take back your tired your poor your huddled masses
your fat asses and assholes your cops and robbers maggots and tadpoles
the wretched refuse junkies and users domestic abusers
wretcheder and refuser
there's enough teeming on our own shores
take them back
we don't need yours
So ya, not long at all, hardly clever (To be honest, I'm pretty proud of the concept and I insist on its brilliance), and just off the rails in terms of hate. Not anger, hatred.
Anyhow, it is what it is. Of all the things I could have posted after such a lengthy sabbatical, it's not quite up to the standards I feel I've established for myself but now I'm rambling to an degree even more embarrassing than usual. So take it or leave and a bunch of other dismissive cliches. I hope I can pop in to give you something far more glorious in the near future.
Might have to change my name,
- Sad Blogger
