Rodomontade

Forgive the potentially offensive tone and message of the metaphors, fellow poets.

Pardon this soliloquy

As much as we mourn

 

For your lack of craft.

 

Allow our caste

 

To rant,

 

Preach,

 

Castigate

 

As you've let us endlessly

 

In the past.

 

Adhere like a remora!

 

For this is absolute.

 

No, I am absolute.

 

I am a poet.

 

 

 

 

Be my guest to listen

 

As I monologize

 

My cryptographic version

 

Of your reality

 

That you shall ensconce

 

Within your toothed chambers

 

And swallow with convincement

 

Like a placebo.

 

Let me feed you

 

With grandiose verbiages

 

Such as..

 

Adiathermancy,

 

Satyriasis,

 

Anhedonia,

 

or Love

To excite your existence

 

And amplify your aphasia.

 

You shant understand

 

Like I myself would not

 

But you'll thank me

 

For teaching you

 

A thing or two

 

About something uncertain

 

Nonetheless,

 

Something

 

For certain

 

Since...

 

I am a poet.

 

 

 

 

 

My bombast

 

Not my fashions or my face.

 

You remember them more than anything

 

As we pass each other on the streets

 

You'll say "Hello!"

 

I'll say  "Bonjour!".

 

Off to the market

 

Like some commoner

 

Whilst I ride gallantly on my steed

 

White no less

 

To slay yet another beast in the woods.

 

I bleed with bravado

 

While you beseach,

 

Instead of besiege,

 

All of its pretense.

 

You gaze with awe

 

At how artful

 

My phraseologic convolutions are.

 

'Til ad nauseam

 

And belatedly wonder

 

What it all meant.

 

Christ without the persecution.

 

I am a poet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Billet-doux for a love letter,

 

Apotheisis for glorification,

 

Tuh-mah-toh for tuh-mey-toh.

 

Why must we be adroit at this?

Simply because

Everything's sweeter to the ears

In Français,

In Latin,

Or in gibberish.

 

And we should adumbrate

 

This little habit,

 

Indulge in its pulchritude

Because..

 

I am a poet.

 

 

 

 

I paint you

Picturesque landscapes

Immortalized on frayed canvasses.

My linguiform paintbrush.

It confounds you.

I make art, yes.

But for ostentation.

Inspiration is merely odds and ends.

 

Like Van Gogh would utilize shades

 

To buy his daily bread.

 

Survival through self-worth.

 

Explicit through the implicit.

 

These lies that you smoke like cigarettes

 

Allegorical morphine

 

For you temporary relief.

 

While we plagiarize the thesaurus

And you take it as champagne

It's remarkable how we both win

And rot so tenderly at the same time.

I am the answer to world peace!

Simply genius.

I am a poet.

The greatest that ever lived!

 

 

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Ah, but the pity is that poor Vincent could not have survived on the meager sales of his dark paintings without financial support from his brother Theo. He did not readily accept impressionism but at last gave in and began focusing on pointille' or pointilism. He began losing his mind (probably from alcohol abuse, syphylitic insanity, and other mental illness) about the same time he began producing what are now his most famous works of art. This was about the time he moved into the "yellow house" as well. One of the paintings painted for the yellow house is entitled The Poet; of Belgian painter Eugene Boch. I have a nephew who is a painter and in meetings among the artistic gatherings of his friends, I am often questioned if I am an artist. There are musicians, sculptors, visual artists (his girlfriend is a dollmaker) and various painting tecniques represented at these gatherings. I reply that I am a poet and usually they fall down and worship at my feet. lol This was humorous, mock pedantic and mock bourgeois in a self-deprecating mix like Cyrano de Bergerac making sport of his own nose in the play by Edmond Rostand. A great deal of fun.

[Michael X]

Pardon this soliloquy" ... this isnt a soliloquy by form rules..and the font is really hard to read..
i think you over expanded the form, if you could revise this, it might not be half bad,
focus on line breaks and punctuation, and dont over word the ideas so much. keep it up!

[Spoken]

well the title is definately spot on with description of it's content. I really dislike boisting, but this is well crafted. I have to agree with one thing- french and latin sound much sweeter in most cases. Some great metaphor and 'verbiage'.. quit on point-wraps up the meaning of Rodomontade in a neat lil' poetic bow

[Sound]

Very nice job.

[Lucy Loves Red]

really great stuff

[Lucy Loves Red]

i'm absolutely in love with this poem, andrew!

the metaphors, the allegories!

i just like how you use poets to signify various social issues.i've never read something as contemporary and as honest as this one.

this is all just really really really juicy.