Bad poetry is like dry scalp- you want to scratch it till it goes away.
I felt that way this evening as I stood, squinting in the sun, as a man ranted dismembered words full of angst at the sky, like a rudderless rebel. It amazes me how ubiquitous and banal some of our “accepted” poetry is. Publishing means nothing except a bias supports your cause…at least in his case. Raving words do not a poem make, and if his is the face of the accepted poetry of the PC world, then I say we take it back- reclaim the culture.
When wickedness, rage, and vacuous verbosity are the poetic norm, the culture of poetry is cancer-laden. It is up to those who have a heart supporting right, supporting a good heritage, supporting life, instead of the culture of death. It is our responsibility now to counter and consume the cancerous growth, replacing it with a poetry for the people, by the people, and of the people- not a godless rebellion bent on the destruction of all that is good.