Archive for September 25th, 2007
This is the World’s Smallest Violin Playing “My Heart Bleeds for Ya”
Written by John Erianne on September 25, 2007 – 7:09 pm -Some months ago, I received a submission from this guy in prison. All of the poems were handwritten. No return envelope. Normally, I’d just toss the poems without reply. However, because I get a lot of submissions and letters from prisoners, I just assumed the guy had never read my guidelines and was just ignorant about the whole business of submitting manuscripts. He was obviously a beginner. His poetry obviously bad. I took pity on him and wrote him back (using my own envelope and stamp — aren’t I nice?). I explained to him a number of realities and gave him a piece of advice that he’d do well to follow if he were to continue to submit poetry to literary journals. I also informed him that I wouldn’t be so nice to him in the future should he ignore what I’d told him and submit to me again. I would toss his work without reply and would not indulge him.
So, over the summer while I was undergoing my treatments for cancer, the submissions piled-up. I was in no physical condition to bother with them and am only now reading and replying to them. Among the submissions that came in over the summer was — you guessed it — from that self-same individual. He completely disregarded what I told him and was absolutely insistant that I deal with him on his terms and disregard my own. Needless to say I am not happy. I considered simply tossing his efforts, but then I thought, before I do that, why not post his nonsense on this blog and let others read it. Fuck, if the man wants attention and comments … let him have what he wants. So, without further ado, here’s Douglas Frey:
John,
I have enclosed 5 poems of varying lengths. This one is separate and the others 4 are in a second envelope . . . My work is handwritten because I am incarcerated . . . All of my poems are actually individual chapters taken out of my diary . . . I do my journal in poetry . . . it remains the only way I can deal with the wreckage of my past . . . I do not share my work with many people but the ones that have read it are usually shaken . . . Though the content is dark and sad and hard-hitting . . . hopefully . . . the way it’s presented meets with your approval . . . I should tell you . . . maybe you care, maybe you don’t . . . but I only write when I’m inside. Never when I’m free . . . and I only write on things I’ve personally experience . . . Addiction, Abuse, death, betrayal, pain, ect . . . Those words cost me pieces of my heart and soul . . . their finished form and the pictures they paint are what reminds me of what I could of been and what I have become . . . please repect this work . . . it’s real and it’s what keeps me sane . . .
With Honor, Respect, and Code
Douglas Frey
(Good Lord! At this point I’m checking the locks on my door. But it’s not over yet. Let’s read this poem he sent.)
Posted in Shits and Giggles, The Last Word, Wannabes | 2 Comments »
