Monday, May 14, 2007
Every so often, unpublished writers get under ones skin, especially if they jump around, throw up tufts of earth, turn various colours and generally do a Rumpelstiltskin in front of you.
You want to say, why, you young whippersnapper. I was already published while you were just being born.
And your trendy sexual polarity?
Heh. My family was already homosexual while yours was still in the trees. :)
So you make the mistake of republishing your old work, just to show enough length. You hope, to win.
And so you reproduce your old short stories, post them. Two weeks go by, and,
Must be something wrong with your machine. No email. No comments.
Surely, there is something wrong. Blame it on Blogger. Maybe the security on your site is too high.
But another week goes by and it looks like you're the guy in the singles bar waiting for the women to come to him, instead of the other way around.
At the end of the night, cartoon image of a skeleton having a beer and a smoke.
So with all this in mind, I will republish an old poem of mine.
Hope the results aren't as bad as last time.
I have certain images of a lady's big-headed cat that I din't like very much. It's out of an old country song. Seems that down there, in the alley, a boot came down and drove the cat out of sight.
At least that what seemed to happen to me last time I plagiarized myself just to produce a blog.
My old poem reminds me so much of these know-it-all "rats-in-the- slushpile" lady bloggers who seem to have more attitude than actual ability.
By Ivan Prokopchuk
Through the labyrinth of soul
Up through the maze
Down to the dregs
And sideways, left, right
But always returning to centre.