If you want to know what a Gamma male is, consider what sort of nominally male individual responds to being blocked on social media like this.
O that novel on my shelf
by him who chose to block me,
Who signed it o�er to my self,
in belief that it would rock me,
who called me friend and colleague then,�
in the hopes I�d write some praise,
with fine excerptable blurb,
that might his royalties raise.
But alas! Alack! That book
of Heinleinian flavor,
with ray gun blasts, I ne�er took
an afternoon to savor.
My author pal got online
with Hugo-baiting rancor
o�er books both poor and sublime,
with allies like a canker.
My friend whose best wishes lie
beneath his byline banner,
unpersoned old humble I
in well-worn Facebook manner.
Now that novel on my shelf
by he who has ejected
reminders of my base self
who politics rejected,
do I keep it there to read
or prize as a memento?
Do I pluck it like a weed
and sell it for my rento?
Do I say that madness reigns
in crusades so demented?
Do I satisfy with words
that hurt feelings were vented?
I don�t know, and yet that book
sits still in my library,
teasing me with every look,
idle, sad, contrary.
In my garden of friend�s works,
I cannot bear to weed it,
even as it cruelly lurks,
where I will never read it.
If your response to reading that is: "I wonder how many cringeworthy poems that loser has written to various "miladies", you've grasped the concept correctly.
Ode To That Signed Book by Him Who Chose To Block Me
O that novel on my shelf
by him who chose to block me,
Who signed it o�er to my self,
in belief that it would rock me,
who called me friend and colleague then,�
in the hopes I�d write some praise,
with fine excerptable blurb,
that might his royalties raise.
But alas! Alack! That book
of Heinleinian flavor,
with ray gun blasts, I ne�er took
an afternoon to savor.
My author pal got online
with Hugo-baiting rancor
o�er books both poor and sublime,
with allies like a canker.
My friend whose best wishes lie
beneath his byline banner,
unpersoned old humble I
in well-worn Facebook manner.
Now that novel on my shelf
by he who has ejected
reminders of my base self
who politics rejected,
do I keep it there to read
or prize as a memento?
Do I pluck it like a weed
and sell it for my rento?
Do I say that madness reigns
in crusades so demented?
Do I satisfy with words
that hurt feelings were vented?
I don�t know, and yet that book
sits still in my library,
teasing me with every look,
idle, sad, contrary.
In my garden of friend�s works,
I cannot bear to weed it,
even as it cruelly lurks,
where I will never read it.
If your response to reading that is: "I wonder how many cringeworthy poems that loser has written to various "miladies", you've grasped the concept correctly.
No comments:
Post a Comment