I fucking hate my poetry. I love it, too. It's so bloody banal. It has been said that poetry reveals what is in your heart... Or was ir your soul? Whatever. My heart must be filled with weird, comic, lovely, shite. It has also been said that poetry is so subjective, that it is difficult to accurately judge. So... Why am I judging my poetry?
Because I'm a harsh judge of my own self. If that sentence was any less well-written, I'd win an award. Go on, reward me!
This here, right here,
is a poem,
written by a peon.
And this paragraph is useless. It's two sentences, berating themselves. Look at them fight. Okay, four sentences now.
Are ya giggling? I did. I often wonder what goes through people's heads. You see them wandering around, endless globules of meat. I'm on a bus, at the time of writing this, and folk are coming on with hard looking faces. People outside are wandering about, looking flustered. An adjacent pub is packed to beyond capacity. How is that relaxing?
I'd much rather sit at home, glass or hundred of wine, warm and comfy in my seat. I've never really liked pubs. I went through a phase in my late teens to early twenties when I had money, and I frequented pubs a lot with my friends. There is one thing I do like about pubs, and that's the variety of them. Some are rock themed. Some are karaoke themed. Some aren't themed at all. Some are havens for old men. Lecherous old men. Some just exist.
I suppose they do reflect society. Everyone has a niche. Whether that niche is straightforwardly pedestrian, or a bit more strange, is up to the individual. It's certainly interesting to look at.
I'm not a fan of people. Shock horror, I'm an introvert! I'm trying to be less so. There are a few people at a Pagan moot that I like. Mostly because they're my kind of nutter.
Speaking of nutters, I went out today to do shopping. Black Friday. A tradition that was brought over to Britain. We basically robbed it from America. Folk fighting, scrapping, rioting. It's stupid. It's a ploy by the shops to get rid of old stock. We used to have January sales. We still do, but it seems Black Friday has taken over. Why do people go nuts for bargains? It's so avaricious.
Avarice is what is wrong with this, oh, so perfect world. If people just were thankful for what they have, no matter how little that is, we might be on our way to something better.
Time to get off the bus and shop some more. I love gift giving, but hate the hassle. Oh well, it's worth it for making people happy and seeing them smile.
Kittylove
Andrew =^.^=
Because I'm a harsh judge of my own self. If that sentence was any less well-written, I'd win an award. Go on, reward me!
This here, right here,
is a poem,
written by a peon.
And this paragraph is useless. It's two sentences, berating themselves. Look at them fight. Okay, four sentences now.
Are ya giggling? I did. I often wonder what goes through people's heads. You see them wandering around, endless globules of meat. I'm on a bus, at the time of writing this, and folk are coming on with hard looking faces. People outside are wandering about, looking flustered. An adjacent pub is packed to beyond capacity. How is that relaxing?
I'd much rather sit at home, glass or hundred of wine, warm and comfy in my seat. I've never really liked pubs. I went through a phase in my late teens to early twenties when I had money, and I frequented pubs a lot with my friends. There is one thing I do like about pubs, and that's the variety of them. Some are rock themed. Some are karaoke themed. Some aren't themed at all. Some are havens for old men. Lecherous old men. Some just exist.
I suppose they do reflect society. Everyone has a niche. Whether that niche is straightforwardly pedestrian, or a bit more strange, is up to the individual. It's certainly interesting to look at.
I'm not a fan of people. Shock horror, I'm an introvert! I'm trying to be less so. There are a few people at a Pagan moot that I like. Mostly because they're my kind of nutter.
Speaking of nutters, I went out today to do shopping. Black Friday. A tradition that was brought over to Britain. We basically robbed it from America. Folk fighting, scrapping, rioting. It's stupid. It's a ploy by the shops to get rid of old stock. We used to have January sales. We still do, but it seems Black Friday has taken over. Why do people go nuts for bargains? It's so avaricious.
Avarice is what is wrong with this, oh, so perfect world. If people just were thankful for what they have, no matter how little that is, we might be on our way to something better.
Time to get off the bus and shop some more. I love gift giving, but hate the hassle. Oh well, it's worth it for making people happy and seeing them smile.
Kittylove
Andrew =^.^=
