Last month, I went to Comic Con.
It was fantastic, in the old, heady, fantasy-based, rather terrifying sense of the word.
It was also exhausting.
No, I did not dress up as an anime character. I went as an exhibitor.
My friend, to be known as The Grackle, (that is even how I have saved his phone number,) runs, organizes, prints, and hand binds a literary magazine. This entertaining and enlightening romp through a vale of modern literature and literary critiques is called the Grub Street Grackle.
This Grackle, being tenacious and persuasive, decided to sell magazines and promote the brand name at Comic Con. And he offered me a free ticket to help him man the booth.
Being of a slightly nerdy persuasion, I agreed.
But there was a catch. The gimmick was to offer FREE bad poetry.
“Free baaaaad poetry! Step right up and get your freeeee bad poetry! Give us three words and five minutes, and we will give you the WORST poetry you have heard all day. Guaranteed or your many back!”
It was exciting, intense, and exhausting. I give you here some glimpses of our efforts. (Some are done my yours truly, and some by The Grackle Himself.)
Words: hat, peanut, hero
How deep are the depths
of my soul?
They about as deep
as the inside of an overturned
hat, like a really big one,
like, think Abe Lincoln
times a million.
How rich are the contents of my
As rich as the contents of a very
I am my own hero.
Words: ancient, dead, Tardis
Let us go then, you and I,
When the Tardis is spread out against the sky,
Like a walrus, dead on a table.
Ancient in its magnitude,
Rogue in time and space and fable.
Words: guinea pig, insomnia, creepy
Oh, my, oh, me, oh, oh,
I lost my guinea pig.
Now I live
Except for my room mate.
And he’s real loud and creepy.
Now I have insomnia.
Oh, ah, me, ah, oh.
Words: daisy, girth, testicular
I travel the cosmic daisy chain,
Hopping form leaf to leaf,
Flying between elaborate worlds
In my ship, the “Absolute Girth,”
Flying my sails occasionally furled,
And avoiding vestigial, testicular claims.
Words: children, lighthouse, castle
We in this world
are all but children,
adrift in a sea of confusion
with no guide,
Like kings without a castle,
Words: chloroplast, amoeba, eggplant (but a the time I could not remember how to spell chloroplast)
You are my chloroplast,
My darling chloroplast,
You shake my amoebas,
When I’m on an eggplant fast.
You’ll never know dear,
How wormy my cells are,
Unless you blast light at
a magnified degree
through a microscope
at your eye and see.
There are many, many more, discovering in varying degrees the cross-section of idiocy and brilliance. The rest, should you wish to pursue them, may be found at the Grackle facebook page. We wrestled with words like Ramadan, cat, Jayne Cobb, regurgitation (that one was given by Captain America himself!) spaghetti, and carcinogenic.
And I know that there is one I wrote about watermelon and love that is actually almost a decent poem, but I cannot find it. If you spot it, let me know!
The rest of Comic Con was fun too. Crazy, obsessive, and bone-wearying, but fun.