Ration Reality

hyperbolic excellence

Adventures in High School Poetry: Big Fat Filthy Happiness

with 4 comments

I found an old high-school notebook with a poem scribbled in it. I don’t recall writing it, but it is my handwriting. Judging by the attempt at meter, I’m guessing it was meant to be a song.

It’s bad. Very bad.

Upon reading it, I wished I had a time machine, so I could go back to 1994 and murder myself, to save the world from this piffle.
Instead, I’m going to share it with you.
Aren’t you the lucky one!

Remember, you’re laughing with me.

Big Fat Filthy Happiness

You were born for this.
Without your calloused knees,
you’re worthless
and the life (pain, dirt) seeps out of me.

You were born for this.
Unless you’re willing to bleed,
you’re worthless
and your filth slays me.

My whore in the dirt
The lady in my bed

Every winner takes a beating.
Every saint needs sodomy.

Eat away my fingers,
wipe away my dirt.

Own it – Own it – Own it
You’ve broken me.

Ok, kids. What have we learned from this?

  1. Anything inspired by Marilyn Manson’s Cake & Sodomy is going to at least as bad as Marilyn Manson’s Cake & Sodomy.
  2. Angsty youth who write poetry should be beaten until they have something real to write about.
  3. Persons who barely passed freshman english should not attempt meter.
  4. Songs should only be written by those who can actually play an instrument.
  5. When in doubt, pretend it’s a metaphor.
  6. High School notebooks should be burned in a well-ventilated area, lest you choke on the ashes of stupid.
     6a. Stupid is too a noun, stupid!
  7. Failing that, blog your teenage ramblings for the whole world to see.

There’s plenty more where that came from.
I recommend you unsubscribe while you still can.

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Written by The Bagel of Everything

May 28, 2007 at 9:05 am

4 Responses

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  1. haha believe me I have some similar crimes against poetry locked in the closet. Bit like watching a car crash, if one can be nostalgic about a car crash. But to be fair this is probably better than my embarrassments. It was probably Radiohead and Ginsberg that caused my downfall. I thought I could just spurt out any random crap and it would be poetry. Wise rules too – I’m sure there’s plenty of people on blogs publishing this stuff without a hint of embarrassment. But it’s all a learning curve, and before I get on my high donkey, I reserve the right to go disasterously wrong even now. In such cases, you can assume I’m being ironic.

    peterandthehare

    May 28, 2007 at 9:37 am

  2. Better than anything I wrote at that age. I was born 15 years too early. My poetry would fit nicely with some emo band’s music.

    Matthew

    May 28, 2007 at 4:42 pm

  3. I reserve the right to pretend parody in all jokes that do not go over. :)

  4. […] the soles of your solid black Special Edition Converse All-Stars. Start your rallies off with some bleak, grammatically obtuse poetry. Trust me–your nomination hinges on this important […]


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