Let's Have A Partita!

Get the respite you deserve another time.

Location: Cantonment, Florida, United States

Well, uh, hmm...

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Good Afternoon, or whatever it is when you're reading this.

Hi, thanks for reading, I appreciate it. Both of you. Now, I have just realized how hard it is to keep up with this. Heck, my emails are hard enough. I have an email from someone that's been sitting in my inbox for two days because I just know it will take me an hour to respond to it (you probably know who you are, if you're reading this, and if you aren't, then THHBBBWWTTT!). Anyway, I wanted to post today just to say I did, and I think I'll upload another somethin' somethin'. Here's a poem I did in poetry class last year making fun of Lord Byron's poem, "Don Juan." It's pronounced Don Jew-in, by the way, had nothing to do with Don Juan, and it was dedicated to one of his critics. I felt that it was a rather sarcastic and quite pompous poem as he used a lot of French, did a good deal of fudging the spelling of words so they'd rhyme, had Roman Numerals separating the verses, and made lewd remarks about the critic. So, I figured I'd give him a taste of his own sarcasm! Ha! Of course, he's been dead for about two hundred years, so... uh... well.

I use his rhyme scheme by the way.

If you want to, just type the French words into one o' them free online translators. I don't feel like it right now.

Ralph Fiennes
(pronounced ral-ff fee-enn-ez)

Lord Byron! You're such a very good poet,
So clever and witty. All other artists must
Bow down to you. Though most don't know it,
you actually rule all poets in the (crust)
afterlife... what happened? I was interrupted wit'
some parentheses. Now this poem is a bust.
I think such literary devices that exist only to make
things rhyme properly make poems sound fake.

Perhaps you and John Cage are getting along
splendidly, as I feel there is about as much
philosophical oomph to to 4'33'' as your greatest song.
Compliments such as these can touch
a nerve if I'm not careful. If I go on too long,
simply tell me, and I'll address your szuch.
At the very least, and certainly last, I have the honor
of being compared to you by critics, in some measure.

Lordy, if that is your real name, I really should
be nicer, after all, you are very famous.
Jealousy is poison, te sachez, and I very well could
kill myself with it. But you can't blame us,
(ok, you can blame me) if I desire occasional good
reviews of my work. Why, a speeding bus
would hit me with less force than one word from
one of these bloodthirsty critics. They call me a bum.

He that rests on his laurels will have pollen on his butt,
as they say. But who is they? And have they
ever sat on laurels themselves? I say, I don't know what
that phrase even means. But it sounds good. Hey!
I know! Perhaps I should aspire to be more like the great
John Milton! Then my writing would surelay
be worthy of a legacy! Although, I'm not sure I would desire
my legacy to be, "misunderstood by people who glamorize fire."

Well, I'm finished now, and I hope that I wasn't too savage,
I really do admire your work, Mr. Byron, I just
Wanted to have a little fun. I just don't like feeling average,
aspiring to be great. Of course the fact is that most
of my writing in life will be done in classrooms. A badge
of honor really isn't necessary. To be thrust
into the limelight is not really appealing to me. I can't
see how how you handled it (you didn't). Thus ends my rant.


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