Featured

Twilight Poets Running A Muck

Twilight Poets Running A Muck

Residing in constant competition of a poetic limbo situated around the outskirts of depression and misery; The written Hell of lovers lost, love long forgotten and love never regained – there’s poetry and then there’s the dead poets society.

As a means for delivering the way in which one may be feeling or thinking – but not limited to rewriting history for a fictional flare – when did this trend begin of poets competing against one another, battling for the title of the most miserable and most heartbroken fuck-face of the 21st Century? Happiness and joy may in fact be an acquired taste when it comes to putting pen to paper, and while I wholeheartedly understand the allure to darkness, sometimes I’m left questioning as to whether or not the words I’m reading is actually good material.

Such effort and time crafted by the way of the heart – deep and meaningful yet stereotypical to the cause, or is it simply just a case of fan-fiction affairs written in response to the cancellation of another terrible teen vampire movie? Pull out your best-pressed skinny jeans and run some gel through your hair, tie down your cock it’s about to get awkward. Is it true what they say; Are happy endings a thing of the past? A myth rooted in fiction? Images of false couples designated to the fucking advertisements of a designer’s home catalogue?

I’d like to think otherwise. I mean, if there is no happy ending, is it really worth the ink? Fuck. Poetry. It’s certainly entertaining, and the attraction to be found in the broken heart of the nearest vulnerable puff pillow is without a doubt appealing, but is it even true? Now, I’m not saying all poetry has to be filled with joy, bliss and full-fucking optimism surrounded by crayons and pastel-tone care bears skipping with their cocks out, but for fuck sake. FFS- isn’t that what the kids call it these days? 

Poetry; It can’t rain all the time. But I’ll be obliged to agree if one were to call it a Plague.

You can’t tell the fucking difference. Cue the hypocritical blog entry in the not too distant future, where I embrace the stereotype as if this page didn’t exist.

KalifornicationX

Residing in constant competition of a poetic limbo situated around the outskirts of depression and misery; The written Hell of lovers lost, love long forgotten and love never regained – there’s poetry and then there’s the dead poets society.

As a means for delivering the way in which one may be feeling or thinking – but not limited to rewriting history for a fictional flare – when did this trend begin of poets competing against one another, battling for the title of the most miserable and most heartbroken fuck-face of the 21st Century? Happiness and joy may in fact be an acquired taste when it comes to putting pen to paper, and while I wholeheartedly understand the allure to darkness, sometimes I’m left questioning as to whether or not the words I’m reading is actually good material.

Such effort and time crafted by the way of the heart –…

View original post 228 more words

Advertisements

Categories: Featured

Reply At Your Own Risk. Leave The Dumbfuckery At The Door.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s