Ok. So, I write. What do I write? Poetry, I humbly reply. Poetry? You call your random verses and stanzas 'poetry'? SERIOUSLY? Cheek, I say! Poetry requires a lot more. (On the other end, a cough can be heard. A cough that vaguely resembles a-p-p-a-r-e-n-t-l-y) One should possess the skill to make the words sway with each other in a continuous rhythm of rhyme and melody. And that skill, my dear, ought to be 'natural'. Ahem, without the inverted commas, please.
Look, I don't like this..this..swaying and the vulgar shaking-of-the-hips of my noble words, just so that i can sell my work to an avaricious reader! I am no prostitute, for Pete's sake! Dignity! Where has that aspect of writing gone? Sadofy in hell, you pompous freako!
Shut up, woman! Don't 'fy' me. Swaying of the words doesn't mean a crude cabaret, not that cabaret is at all skill-less. Try it sometime. I bet you can't even move your wretched toe! Shaking a leg, it seems! Presumption...!
Ahaan? Really? Well, in my defense, I think that poetry is a very personal art! If I do not want dancing harlots on my paper, and if I crave the straight-backed cavalry on my paper, so be it! This whole 'beauty in writing' is such a farce! Defying relativism and all that. I do what I like, I like what I do! Screw you! Oh, yes, I can swear whenever I want to! Don't give me any of that 'aesthetic' shit!
Sigh, well, all right! Do whatever! You babies call your writing 'liberal' and 'all inclusive'. Let me tell you, it's a shame! A stark blot of dark shame on the face of literature! Abstract writing, they say. What a fall, oh, what a fall! Had I the heart of pulp, I would cry!
Cheer up, you bozo, and move on!
No one gives a dime for an old fart like you. Big time. Should I say, period?
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