John Donne-zo

There comes a time during every week, usually in the wee saturday hours when i stumble up to bed after a night of drunken debauchery, where I pause, blink stupidly, and think to myself "Oh crap, I forgot to do my blog post again." And then i pass out. I was getting pretty good at forgetting to do them, a professional forgetter I daresay. Thats why tonight is one for the ages, folks. I actually remembered. I even wrote BLOG in big letters on my hand so I wouldnt forget. Thats dedication right there. Unfortunately, I drove all the way home only to realize I dont have my english book. *Insert explative here* While my actions make me want to harm small, furry woodland creatures, its nothing compared to poetry, which makes me want to harm small, furry woodland John Donnes. Donne was a master of metaphysical poetry, but infused his poetry with intellect and wit, weaving paradoxes, puns and analogies into often ironic pieces on human nature and on holy proceedings. His style remains remarkably consistent - while his subject matter may change from his earlier works to his later works, his keen literary sense and passion do not. He also seems to be very genuine in his works, speaking from the heart that is different from many of his contemporaries. I have different levels of dislike for poetry, kinda like the 9 circles of Hell in Dante's "Inferno," except for poets. I definately do not dislike Donne as much as, say, those weepy teenage girls Surrey and Wyatt. Those whiny bastards deserve to be in the lowest circles of literary Hell. Their poems are malicious crimes against humanity, and i better stop talking or else i might make an irrational decision and punch my computer. Although that might be a good thing since the computer at my house has the top-of-the-line Windows 98 currently installed. Whatever, Donne gets a pass in my book as being pretty good...for a poet.