HOT DAMN #14 — Not Slam Poetry

LIFE’S WONDERS PRAISED IN SUGGESTIVE, ODDBALL, AND NONSENSE WAYS

As a counterpoint to my usual cynical antics, I’ve committed myself to a weekly, year-long discussion of my life’s joys.  But, never one for the more traditional approaches, I intend to keep things a little off side, a tad outlandish, and always one foot outside of polite company.

//NOT SLAM POETRY//

Herein lies a funny poem / about the stuff I do at home / like eating toes with marmalade / and toasting cake as mommy bade…

I like poetry, I do.

From time to time I even write it.

On the rare occasion, I even do public readings.

But I refuse to perform my poetry. It’s a matter of personal taste, I suppose, but the often overwrought and affected tone punctuated by flailing arm gestures and a lot of yelling . . . well, it just isn’t for me.

Settle down, friends. I see that you’re passionate about something, and you make a good point, but you undermine it with all of your theatrical caterwauling.

Every time I see something like this:

–

–

I’m reminded of this:

–

–

I know. That’s kind of a dick thing to say, given the subject matter of the first video. What? Don’t I believe that women should have the right to speak up with confidence, honesty, and the styled rhythm of a Baptist preacher?

Sure. If they want to.

But it’s such an affected performance that it somehow manages to come off a little hollow.

Again, we come back to taste. Isn’t it all a matter of taste? Yes, I admit that it is. And, yes, I am the guy who prefers Froot Loops for breakfast instead of a kale smoothie, so maybe my taste is somewhat questionable.

Still, I’m here to stand up for the quiet, yet honest reader of poetry.

With me, you need never worry about earplugs.

After all, it is your words that should make the impact, not your volume.

–

Did you miss last week’s entry on HONEST FUNERAL?  Catch up here.

For a full list of all HOT DAMNs, click here.