What's Worse Than Jesus Marts?

...local poetry readings.

I hate crappy poets. I hate crappy poetry, being read by crappy poets crappily.

They're awful. Horrible. Pornographic. Indulgent...and not even two glasses of wine can make these fucking poetasters tolerable.

You wouldn't believe what I had to sit through tonight. Swearing isn't poetry--that's blogging. Using words like pussy and dick--not poetry. Ending every line in a pretentious upward inflection-- still not poetry. Singing your fucking lame verse out of tune--still not anywhere close to poetry.

People, if you're not going to write about death or god, or at least write about sex using clever metaphors, then don't bother writing poems. Just don't.

Of course, I'll be signing up next week for Alberta Street Pub's Broken Word poetry reading. Somebody's got to raise the standard. Yes, I'm arrogant, but I'm good enough of a poet to be arrogant.

So. Tuesday at 7:30 sharp for you hecklers, and those of you interested in knowing the difference between what is and what isn't poetry.

Disgusted,

Cindy