Comment on Destroy This Poem by niedec
When time will still my crippled hand,
and winds blow dust and ashes fly...
when silence coats the barren land
which boils under angry sky...
when all that could be said's been said,
and all the we have done is done,
when underground, some billions dead
start decomposing into one...
When God and all His angels count
When God and all His angels count
each eon that has passed us by,
each holy voice will then cry out:
"why wouldn't Niedec's writing die?!"
When I asked for more, you gave me much,
a wondrous write that I can't touch.
I've read your words a dozen times
and not responded for lack of rhymes.
a wondrous write that I can't touch.
I've read your words a dozen times
and not responded for lack of rhymes.
There sat a lone mute in the corner;
You forgot," I continued,
we would watch as he mouthed every word,
A dozen times over, reciting each line,
but with never a syllable heard.
His hair, it was riddled with cobwebs,
His hair, it was riddled with cobwebs,
(or spiderwebs, given his state):
a macabre little creature
eyes glassy and hollow,
recessed in expressionless slate.
We asked him his name, and he jotted
We asked him his name, and he jotted
on the back of some page that he had.
MY NAME IS DARK RIDER, THE POET!
MY NAME IS DARK RIDER, THE POET!
"DLMC" he wheezed as he laughed.
"No deaf-mute am I, my companions!"
He rasped
"Just a man of much thought and some time...
"No deaf-mute am I, my companions!"
He rasped
"Just a man of much thought and some time...
I've been reading this poem for some
forty-odd years,
and I haven't yet thought up a rhyme!"
SoI turned to this pitiful vagrant,
SoI turned to this pitiful vagrant,
with a world-hewn gaze in my eye:
'twas the look of old driftwood
long cut from the sea,
and my stare like one chosen to die.
"YOU FOOL!" I shouted,
"YOU POOR, WRETCHED BASTARD,
Why waste life on one piece from my tomes?!
and my stare like one chosen to die.
"YOU FOOL!" I shouted,
"YOU POOR, WRETCHED BASTARD,
Why waste life on one piece from my tomes?!
You forgot," I continued,
as I tore up his page,
"I had titled it
'DESTROY THIS POEM!'"
"I had titled it
'DESTROY THIS POEM!'"
Foolish lad, it makes me sad,
to see you act the buffoon!
Shouting, "You Fool!"
with a twitch and a drool,
like a howler monkey first seeing the moon...
But, DESTROY THIS POEM? You leaping Gnome,
I'm afraid you did that on your own,
yet it gave you a DD,
which goes to show, I can see,
that on dA, the persistent puppy gets the bone.
to see you act the buffoon!
Shouting, "You Fool!"
with a twitch and a drool,
like a howler monkey first seeing the moon...
But, DESTROY THIS POEM? You leaping Gnome,
I'm afraid you did that on your own,
yet it gave you a DD,
which goes to show, I can see,
that on dA, the persistent puppy gets the bone.
If you could read
what I had said,
with utter, careful comprehension,
Perhaps you'd see
that what I wrote,
was empty of all ill intention.
To explicate,
I illustrated
I illustrated
what I found an irony:
that you would waste
your time and pa-
tience struggling to
reply to me,
when every comment
when every comment
we have made
is to a poem
about avoid-
ing any and all fame and fortune,
pleading that it were destroyed.
And so I wrote
And so I wrote
within my story,
how I did as I'd intended.
I grabbed your copy of my poem,
I grabbed your copy of my poem,
and lightly cursed you as I rended--
not in insult, but chastisement,
as what poem is worth a life?
I meant to show
I meant to show
that you had fo-
cused on a task not worth the strife.
So as I end this small synopsis,
I'll repeat another time:
So as I end this small synopsis,
I'll repeat another time:
If you find yourself in eons
by still searching for a rhyme,
Please take note that
by still searching for a rhyme,
Please take note that
I once wrote a
poem against all poetry.
Words are nice, but
Words are nice, but
life is nicer.
Heed that advice,
Heed that advice,
and you'll be free.