Poemranker [Replying] Thu Nov 21 17:55:48 PST 2024

Replying to a comment on:

(Imagine a single line of text in a circle that you have to turn as you read - the word âHungerâ at the center. You canât determine where to start, so start reading anywhere.) I am hungry You present me a plate of food Sensations arise I see food, smell it, anticipate eating it Volition comes into use I pick up utensils I indulge in the pleasure of eating As my stomach fills, desire decreases My mind turns to other desires New sensations Mental formulations arise

zodiac

25-Feb-05/10:37 PM

Hey, that's a great proof. Start with a bum assumption and who knows where you'll end up? Hanging yourself in confusion probably.

Now let me ask you something: At any point during your realization of this fabulous idea did it occur to you that a lot of people - most of the people in the world, in fact - ARE ACTUALLY HUNGRY? I can guarantee you most of them wish the problem was as simple as "You present me a plate of food" (false passive be damned). And where the fuck is their fucking plate of food anyway? You're sure as fuck not presenting them to it, you're just writing illiterate bumfucking bullshit socalled poems about the most illiterate misrealization of the heirarchy of needs I've EVER SEEN in a long time looking at illiterate misrealizations of things.

AND WHAT'S THIS???!?!?!? After I eat my plate of food I just become hungry for OTHER THINGS??!?! Psychological and SPIRITUAL things?! Well Jesus Christ I might as well just hang myself in confusion right now. I'll just STARVE FROM SPIRITUAL HUNGER otherwise.

Oh no wait. I'm starving from physical hunger first. And where's my fucking plate of goddamn food?

Or maybe you simply thought you were relating to starving people - you know, I know you're hungry for a plate of food to present itself, but I'm hungry for mental formulations, and that's like the same thing, it's a loop see. Fuck you. If you've ever been hungrier than when your Happy Meal takes longer than the required five minutes at the drive thru, I'll eat my own shmaugh*.

In short, I am so sincerely horrified by this poem I dream of it. I'm being absolutely honest, so none of this zodiac's just a big website flamer and hopeless gay introvert to boot. This is wrong, wrong beyond almost anything I've read in 4000-something poems on poemranker, to say the least. If you haven't gotten yet that everybody else to post on this poem feels exactly the same way, please take my word for it and delete this now. Thank you very much.

zodiac

*=that patterned headcloth Arab men wear, otherwise known as a towel.

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