precious life

there’s enough hate on the internet that i don’t feel like i need to contribute to it, but emily’s post from a long time ago about bad poetry reminded me of this little baby. my best friend and i used to read our friends' school's literary magazine when we would sit in the hall between classes and that's when we discovered mark bruce, boy genius. and really, this isn’t about hate. it’s about liking a memory and love for really really bad poems.

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.:.Precious Life.:.
Mark Bruce

I really like this Mike-n-Ike,
Yellow, orange, or green.
It seems to last forever
At least that's what it seems.

Large and wholesome when you start,
The candy seems so big,
But quickly it disintegrates.
You don't know where it's been.

Try to enjoy your Mike-n-Ike from the beginning 'til the end
Its gone before you know it.
But just pop one back in.

Life is like a Mike-n-Ike.
You think it lasts forever
Try to appreciate the little things,
If you know this, you're quite clever.

Life and Mike-n-Ikes also have a difference.
When your life is gone, it's gone.
You can always pop in a new candy.
But life is still gone.

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can we just talk about what’s obvious: this poem is about mike-n-fucking-ikes. poetry should probably never wade into the shallow depths of chewy candies, but this boy takes it to a whole new level. he’s talking about the temporality of life. keep that in mind, we’ll get back to that.

let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. there's nothing too bad here. nothing too great, either, but there’s really no warning that you’re about read the worst poem ever written. i give him points for being sneaky.

stanza two. um…there’s nothing wholesome about a mike-n-ike. and that whole “you don’t know where it’s been” thing? i do know where it’s been. it’s been in your mouth. that’s why it’s disappearing. but who's counting?

ahh yes, right around here is where he starts pulling out the good stuff. “life is like a mike-n-ike.” sure, dude. it’s like he was just chillaxin' with some candy and his friend came over and was all, “so did you finished your meditation-on-the-meaning-of-life poem for english class?” and he went, “shit i forgot” and then was like, “oh look, i’m eating a mike-n-ike, maybe i should just write a poem about it.”

last and probably least: “life and mike-n-ikes also have a difference.” OH REALLY? time to get out the bongo drums: “When your life is gone, [beat] it’s gone. [beat] you can always pop in a new candy. [beat] but life [beat] is still gone.” [beatbeatbeatbeat]