literature

Yes, another poem.

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the-Uber-Cheezgrater's avatar
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Literature Text

To Make a Socially Acceptable Novel

From the back of my mind, I extracted a small, pure truth
That contained all the innocence and beauty of youth
I put it inside a soft, black leather pouch
And hid it for three years under the couch
I added a small obscenity, just, of course, for show
Before taking it to the kitchen and kneading it like dough
At night, I kept it close to where I rested my head
Where it whispered to me secrets of all things unsaid
I toasted it over a fire until it was shrunken and crisp
And all juvenility rose from it in a wisp
One gram of normality and two cups of detestation
Was all it took to eradicate every revelation
I dipped it in gold and wrapped it in a thousand lies
So as to make it less frightening in society’s eyes
Together with half a can of malice, I boiled it until hard
And when at last, I took it out, my truth was intolerably marred

As I bound the pages together, I thought back to the very start
When the novel had been woven from the thin strands of my heart
And I cursed all my belongings and all my daily needs
And the fact that a beautiful novel is always the one nobody reads
I cursed myself for my cowardice and my pretentious intent
I hid my face in my hands, but no one heard my lament

I carried it with me to a small restaurant in town
Where its executor was already at a table, sitting down
I gave it to the sweaty man in an insipid tie and shirt
Under whose fingernails I could see small spots of dirt
He looked straight at me with his empty, empty eyes
And we talked about nothing as he devoured six meat pies
After half an hour, he took my altered truth and left
Still sitting at the wooden table, I felt utterly bereft

Approval came by phone call, and I was promised cash
I agreed without hesitation and it was over in a flash
It was published in great quantities and delivered by air
To bookstores, where it was read by civilians everywhere
It sank into the shelves, with absolutely no goodbyes
My little truth dipped in gold and wrapped in a thousand lies
Yup. Another one. Only this one has no rhythm and little structure.
© 2007 - 2024 the-Uber-Cheezgrater
Comments10
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Alex-Blueshoes's avatar
The irony of the matter is, you'll likely sell this to a big publishing company, and they'll change it for fear of people coming to the realisation that they are, in fact, an unnecessary middle man for the distribution of culture.
Then, of course, the soul of the poem would be lost, and thus it's power, influence, and pure, simple design would fade into nonexistance.
The thousands of discarded copies would go on to be recycled and made into more books of poem, prose and novel, all ripped of their soul for the pleasure of the cretinous public.

In restrospect, a tad too far, but my point is made.