The Experimentalist Has Gone Too Far
he says his style is prized and purposeful
besides inventive writing helps us catch
a break from monotony, from real life? he says
hear hear -- is he real or he has gone overboard?
when did criminality pay off, good folks?
I called for his arrest with immediate effect
but his fans would have none of it as if he
hasn't been raping the rules really wantonly
in fact, his enthusiasts howled for my blood
they claimed that they are weary of rigidity
I asked him where he got his poetic license from --
the one he hypes about, but he wouldn't tell me!
the poet finds pleasure in playing with language
calling himself The Experimentalist, he wrenches
meaning, narration and syntax in unimagined ways
by the way, when I write wrench, he writes rench
when I spot a misspelling, he sees an apt, arty spelling
when I tell him it's no longer funny, he calls me a fossil
he brands his poetry a lawless dish of foreplay and wordplay
he says when convention died innovation resurrected
peeps, it looks like The Experimentalist's insanity is sane,
hey, excuse his hooey, the poet has a legion of enthusiasts
surprise, editors and publishers fall over themselves
for his brand of works; wild, wild works they call divine
his punctuation is unconventional, his words are unruly
he pushes boundaries, made-up words and nonsense
'in a bid to keep the fire of absurdity, freedom and fun alive'
doesn't his ballooning record of made-up words, parodies,
paradoxes and oxymorons turn perfect readers into morons?
hear hear, he says, the difference is the same, reading should be fun!
he acknowledges that oil and water don't blend at all but that didn't
stop him from coming up with a portmanteau word: oiater; dear Lord!
he relishes fosic, and this funny combination comes from music and food!
peeps, I give up, let him boil his oaiter and enjoy his fosic, and be ecstatic