Esa poema es terrible

As I remain stricken with intense blogger's block, I decided to post some more old poetry rather than leaving my blog blank for another day. This piece (of ____), written about three years ago, is a particular favorite of mine, as it calls to mind what a room full of chimpanzees might produce if they were provided a typewriter and a thesaurus, and then given abundant time -- oh, say, twenty or thirty minutes. Oh, and they should be nihilistic chimpanzees. With hemorrhoids. Okay, so we're limiting our candidate pool -- one nihilistic chimpanzee with hemorrhoids will do.



This chimp should do.
Originally uploaded by Ian D..

"By the Campfire"

By the side of the fire he lays his head;
The remnants of his dinner still adorn
His plate -- fresh caught fish and canned corn.
He relishes lying where other feet don'€™t tread.
Gazing at the starry night, a wistful thought
Encroaches. Could he stay? Let his absence
Spill and blot out all the words of nonsense
That ruefully define the diction of his lot?
His mind ascends on a blissful gust, as he
Ponders the wonders of a hermetic home
Here, devoid of the paragraphs in the tome
Of his life, written so peremptorily.
Yes, he will stay! O joyous evening away
From the painful truth of his reality among
The Others! Here there is no truth slung
Gravely upon his neck, but only day after day,
And time stretching endlessly before him while
The guileless rain washes off the caked history
Of society and leaves the indelible mystery
Of Nature to curl his wayward lips into a smile.

Then, a baleful epiphany clatters over the hills.
He must return. The firm dictate of a Nature who
Will not have him here: he must wade through
The fetid mire of what he was granted, as God wills.



Wow! Great job, Coco! I particularly like how you threw in that line about the canned corn so as to preserve your simplistic rhyme structure. Nothing says poetry like canned corn. Now, was that creamed or whole-kernal?

Anyhow, Coco, you have done yeoman's work with that thesaurus we gave you. In fact, learning only the vocab words you forced into this little poem would be sufficient to ace the verbal portion of the SAT! And as we all know, the key to good writing is to cram as many inkhorn words in there as can possibly be made to fit. You've really outdone yourself here, Coco. Hey, are you even listening to me? Put down that typewriter -- that's not food! Bad Coco!

P.S. In looking for a picture of a chimpanzee I happened upon this little fellow, who is apparently buggering himself. Somebody actually painstakingly sculpted this thing.
Ahem...what, exactly, is that right hand doing?

P.P.S. Upon further review, it appears that the right hand is actually involved in the wholly innocent endeavor of clutching the right thigh, and that I in my idiocy have mistaken the chimp's foot with his hand. That's not to say he hasn't developed certain talents with his right foot, though.

P.P.P.S. And besides, he's a cute little fella, even if he is abusing himself.

Oh, by the way, I believe it was just last night that I swore off these 2am posts. Just ignore everything I say; it'll be better for all parties.