Pre-exam Craze; Rant against irrational Modernism.

BEGINNINGless

moment of spontaneous outflow of emotion,

what are Words worth if--

I admit, nasty stupid pun-- blame

the modernist prose, the sight of block-age.

(ANOTHER PUN! HEHEHE)

Tiresias can't look, yet sees

the confusion, through all,

at the inability-- disgusting core, Matthew Arnold would say-- to voice,

(WHAT does Gypsy Scholar do for you? Does it animate?)

to please? Perhaps, if Eliot's fame was-- no, IS-- so

it does boggle the mind in a most terrible

and irritating way. Discordant noise, jumbling

the mind and freezing over a jaw grinding

its teeth in frustration

HOW SHOULD I STUDY THIS when

it is so meant to create such a terrible mess

and to horrify with a decay and confusion

of perspective and time;

HURRY UP NOW IT'S TIME.

HURRY UP NOW IT'S TIME.

'Well I say you are a fool'

Infertile brain, curs'd with fertile womb

but brain is the root, and so since the seed

will also make the womb infertile

HEHEHE.

HURRY UP NOW IT'S TIME.

exam! Scourge like a cruel master,

cruel schoolmaster, Choak'umchild,

he, ha, hehe,

HURRY UP NOW IT'S TIME

EXAM! . . . . . Woolf's five dots in her

insane asylum room, translates

to me because I need five minutes of stupefaction

as well,

NO TIME. IT'S TIME. IT'S TIME.

Good night, good night (I am tired, I say)

NO, it's exam time!

Wordsworth scowls, saying

I say recollection in tranquility, why

do you not follow my rules

(When he himself did not! Did he not

rebel against the suffocating society?! Running

away to nature? Much better? I think not!

Scourge me not, you are no skylark! Anger me

like Woolf’s narrator in the Room— ARE you angry, Wordsworth

or it that all in my mind!?— wandering in the clouds?)

If I should write with this shuddering

and insanity at my exam, I shall certainly get a zero

Or some other mark

nasty and forever until I am wrinkled like a prune,

no, less: like a raisin. Small, small!!

no, no, no, please.

Foreshadowing is such a terrible thing,

Literature is not life though!

Although, would you not agree it's a mirror?

no, no, no!

Said Philomel too before despair took

her tongue, but not

her substance, her brain

BUT NO WORDS AND SO HER SUBSTANCE UNANNOUNCED

and unmarked, until she turned to a bird.

Fly, fly, let me fly, please--

HURRY UP NOW IT'S TIME.