Please excuse my lengthy (two weeks!) absence, for I have been basking in the glow of being nominated one of the Best Poets of 2012! In fact, I have the chance to proudly display my accolades!
WHAT? you ask, accusingly. (Why accusingly? Who says I can’t be a motherfucking poet?!)
Around this time last year, I submitted the now-award-winning poem to a poetry contest. To refresh your memory, here is the entire poem, the first of many to be packaged in my book of poetry, I Know Why the Caged Rat Bites My Fingers:
Of course, I thought my outpouring of creative emotion would be passed over like so many quality works of art (goodbye, 30 Rock), but NO. I was SO recognized with emails and offers to buy merchandise in relation to my poem that I wondered how I wasn’t deified sooner.
So over the past two weeks, aside from work, school and having a social life, I’ve been invited to various venue to share my award-winning poetry. (Okay, I harassed people on street corners until I was politely asked by cops to kiss concrete.) Needless to say, the public was not ready to hear my groundbreaking soliloquies on Donkey Kong (the best Kong), dat ass, or Game of Thrones. Again, like 30 Rock, my work was too smart and challenging for a society weaned on slop like Robert Frost or the Big Bang Theory.
So I have resigned myself to dumb down my art for a broader audience–content to comment on things like Kim Kardashian, Beyoncegate and American Idol. And when the next poetry contest comes around, I’ll do my best not to confuse the masses with my hashtag raps. There will be no preaching to my people with hilarious earnestness like an episode of The Newsroom, nor will there be dancing wordplay like a David Mamet script. YOU’LL GET YOUR SLOP.
Maybe I’ll become more acclaimed by the World Poetry Movement, asked to buy more books and pins commemorating my awesome poetry skills, and actually be invited to perform at actual indoor places for audiences. BUT AT WHAT COST? My SOUL, THAT’S what. And maybe another Best Poet pin when I make an order to World Poetry Movement–because they’re, like, TOTALLY legitimate.