Of course this is just a variation on the Langston Hughes poem, "Evil," which I love.
This poem reminds me of my personality to the max. As a girl (with strabismus and pink glasses, as depicted in the picture), I was always the one persisting in some irritating enterprise ad nauseum . . .
So now, as a theoretical adult, I keep thinking I am going to take a break from parodies, and I think I can.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
But I won't make any promises.
6 comments:
When I see parodies of poems you write
among the reams of earnest darker zines
I like to think you’ll keep writing them.
There’s too much taken seriously.
I hope this is recognizable but just in case: Birches – Frost
Thanks Laura! And thanks for the parody! I love it.
I hope you keep writing the parodies. They're terrific.
Happy New Year!
Cheer up, Nin. There is no giving up parody, only the long ardours of waiting for it to strike again.
For a convicted parodist, genius can lie dormant and brooding for weeks, even months at a time, and then, just when you've sunk to the depths of your lowest morale-notch, like a bolt from the blue -- you are once again touched by its noodly appendage...
Thanks January!
And that's really funny, Tom. Where do you find this stuff?
Yes, parodies keep on keeping on. I find that the dumber the parody, the happier my mind is to repeat them over and over.
The parodies should continue. The self-portraits as a child also. Curtis
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