now, more.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

feeling breathing depthing poetry


all i wanted was a stinking iPod. for free. and yes, i do know that in "the little mermaid" of disney fame ursula throats out, "you can't get something for nothing." but that had little to no sway on me, neither was it in my mind when i heard someone say that i could get a free iPod on line. i even saw the physical iPod someone else had gotten as proof to my skeptic's mind. so i myself got on-line to see if i could obtain the precious booty. it all looked easy enough. sign up for a few spam email deals, get 5 other people to do it, and get your iPod promptly in the mail. alot of things to sign up for required more than i wanted to give, so i tried to find the easiest ones to fill out. i came upon the poetry.com "please sign up here" page. another gimmick, yes, but easy. all they wanted was an original poem, an entry in a contest. i made up some complete heavy meaningless garbanzo beans, and went on my way to the next gimmick. in a minute or two i realized it was more involved than i wanted to be, so i quit, felt sad about the iPod, and swiftly forgot the whole thing.

fast forward a month. four weeks. 28 days. alot of hours. my mom calls me with the question, "did you enter a poem into a contest?" "No." was my quick thoughtless reply. Then she recited the words:

diagnostic doldrums
and pinkie finger nail clippings
wisecracking rhubarbs and the pies and their spies
never knew it
was only another far-flung hypocrisy
winging to the space of other-times faces
pretending it was never meant to be
only three
only three

had i written that? garbage? she told me that the poem came with a letter that said my poem had been chosen to go into a ridiculously expensive con-book, and that i was a lucky one, and that i should buy the book. it even had "excellent poem" written in a sorry-excuse-for-a-computer-font-wanting-to-look-like-real-handwriting scrawled near my great work. i guess i really AM deep, and that people really DO appreciate my work. i am neat. but i still ain't buying that book.

2 comments:

my ghostwriter said...

here's the problem: you're not paying any heed to the poem at the debut of this post. let's be honest, you're looking at a life of sorrow, pain, and regret. you'll see.

heathen said...

You have a typo in your poem on here. Isn't it "only hree" or something of the like.