May 30, 2008
“The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Fifth Annual Horrible College-Student Poetry Competition: And the Winner Is…
It’s well past time, dear reader, for us to announce the winners of our glorious Fifth Annual Horrible College-Student Poetry Competition. Before we get under way with the kudos and acclaim, however, we would like to make a few remarks as a prolegomenon.
First, we should thank all those who entered our humble contest. As our official contest judge, Anonymous, can well tell you, there were some really execrable bits of verse entered this year. Really, really wretched stuff. Accordingly, Anonymous, though a poet of the ages, had great difficulty choosing our winners.
Ah, but he had some help. Michael E. Lopez, Esq., the supremely talented winner of the four previous Horrible College-Student Poetry Competitions, did not have the opportunity to defend his laurel crown, and thus took on the role of Anonymous’ Official Helper. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” were delighted to behold the handiwork of the clever Mr. Lopez. And surely no one knows how to write execrable collegiate balladry as well as he.
This means, of course, that we have a brand new grand-prize winner for this year’s contest. Oh, how exciting! Given the horrid entries we received, you should not be too upset if you don’t find your entry amongst the victors. After all, this may merely mean that you actually write good poetry.
Without further ado, then, let us turn to the best of the worst. Naturally, all the errors found below appeared in the originals.
Fourth Runner-Up: “sonnet of (equaliteez)” bai (Quincy)
how R U racist? let me kount teh wayz
U R racist cuz U R (white)
U R racist bai dai n nite,
U R racist cuz U fite
teh ones who teech (equality).
U R racist cuz U dwell
on mai lak of skilz at spell(ing)
U R racist cuz U talk (white)
ai reelee can(not) stand the site,
uv U talking (white)...
ai seez U, (white), az uh sheet,
KKK reddy 2 beet... (me)
(white) az AmeriKKKa!
U R racist cuz U deny teh (truth),
the fundu(mental) equazhun...
Gee: Someone’s received a B- in his African-American Studies class, eh? Even by the wretched standards of bad collegiate doggerel, that’s some bad stuff.
Third Runner-Up: “My Fluid Country” by C-Mortar
When I see puss draining from a scab on my arm,
I see the damage caused by America.
When I see blood coming from an absess in my leg,
I see all the innocent people killed by America.
When I see the discharge from my vagina,
I see all of the women raped by America.
When I see the snot running out of my nose,
I see all of the crying children orphaned by America.
When I see the ooze from the sores on my penis,
I see all of the gay men marginalixed by America.
When I see the fungual discoloration of my toenails,
I see all of the free people not given a living wage by America.
And when I see all of the problems my body has
But I have no national health care plan to help,
I see that I, too, have been victimized by America.
Oh, that’s pretty delicious, is it not? We mean, come on: How many collegiate verses have you read that don’t include the line “When I see the discharge from my vagina”? Not that many, we’d wager.
Second Runner-Up: “No more salad for me, Mom” by Phoenix
The guilt, the guilt
weighs heavy on my shoulders
Pushing me down down down
where i rightly belong.
How long – lo! so many years
have i masticated, chewed, gobbled, and munched
Proudly and yes, even arrogantly
murdered my green friends at the salad bar.
The shame, the shame
does not the cereal have rights?
does not she want to go to seed
and see her fruit grow up around her?
i, murderer me, am complicit in a
the subjugation of all green things
to my plate and my palate
the pant kingdom should rightly rise up
That, dear reader, is really grand. It just screams “Alexis became a fruitarian last week and she pines to strangle the world in her sanctimony.”
First Runner-Up: “Truth…AFIRE!” by C. Monsoon
In this fractal mind I hear the rumourings of your winsum heart
Through a crystal dark like a lilt it wafts as fine smoke is wont in thin air
But I have not the time right here in the here & now
For truth is but afire!
Truth … afire!
I throw myself against the Trojan-like cadderwalls
Of a castle dark, a fortress so wicked and strong
Silent trees cry for me where they have fellen as a songbird bravely sings
By a toxic brook in the brokin air-fowled wood
They know all too well the inner inate darkness of the black corprit soul
But I say cry no moor for a lyric-like spirit beckins me
For this wayward son will carry on with genesuss rising
And he will journey on and revere revelry in blissful oneness
But is there no place yet left to hide while truth is all afire?
Truth … afire!
Now terry not must I go now even as I must, yet, yes, go I must
For I know that I am but a few edgy permeations away
Along the wayward tangent to the blazing eyes of a tortured friend
An “ami” as one is wont to want to say, while truth they burn afire!
While truth they burn and it is all … afire!
[NOTE: Next verse recited stoic’ly, almost Gaelic’ly, like in the movie “Rob Roy” or “Braveheart, with one lone mournful bagpipe weeping from behind]
The dogs of a chicken-hawk war run blindingly on!
Their fateful howling screams a den of fearul shame!
Can they see not the havick they so retchedly reek upon us all!
And that they’re woeful day of wreckn’ing is writ large upon them!
While their currish tails all but hide their rancid fowl deseats?
Will we stand most righteous against the patricianarchal neocon hordes?
Against the hatemongrills, the warmongrills, each mongrills all!
That would dog-wag us into unjust genocide with their hateful doggerills?
For in their primate fear can they not see the truth afire?!
The truth all burning …all … afire?!
Nigh be of fright my bonny friend of good hope ( the one I am wont to call “ami”)
For in our hands we hold the holiest of the holies of peace, diversity and tolerance
Our ship sails on the night tides away, away, from the inane outer darkness
To a much more better day at times where no truth is burning all afire!
Where no truth not wont to burn is not … afire!
Yet even now theres truth t’is burning … all …afire.
TRUTH … AFIRE!
We think Mr. Lopez summed up this poem best: “The problem with this poem is that it’s almost good, it’s so bad.” Yes, we entirely agree.
And this leaves us with the big, big winner:
The Winner of the Fifth Annual Horrible College-Student Poetry Competition: “Vegetarian Predator” by The Hairy Beast
(1) She stands on the quad or
the quad stands on her. They march
They see but they don’t see
all that I see. Why should they?
They don’t know her.
(2) The wind tumbles the sheet across the tar
Stained with tears of rain.
Red and black black and red. It flips and flops.
The face of the hope we wait for.
3) She tapes another to the wall
of the student union. It tries to stick
Then is rejected like the other.
Gives itself to the fickle wind.
4)And the others walk on indifferant.
But I see
And I know her.
She is the we we are waiting for.
Oh, that’s just spot-on, isn’t it? It reeks of a quasi-literate 19-year-old pathetically attempting to use every big word in her pathetic vocabulary to write a pathetic poem! Amongst a sea of awful poems, this one is truly wretched.
So congrats, the Hairy Beast, for taking home the gold in our Fifth Annual Horrible College-Student Poetry Competition! You have made Philip Larkin shudder.
But can the Hairy Beast make it two-in-a-row? Or will Michael E. Lopez return with a vengeance? Or how about some new pseudo-poet?
You’ll have to wait until next year’s festivities to find out. Ah, the joys of living on our lovely planet. No wonder so many folks turn to our humble “weblog” for delight, amusement, and horrid verse.