—from A Gallery of Ethopaths
The bookshops that we used to see
Were citadels of literacy.
Classics of grace and wit and style
Greeted your glance in every aisle.
Today, those humane texts are fewer—
A bookstore is a backed-up sewer
Clogged with the bilge the public guzzles:
Health-food cookbooks, crossword puzzles,
Tracts on UFOs, confessions,
Ghosted memoirs and impressions
Of some fatuous politician,
Starlet, drug-czar, or musician;
Best-sellers pumped by frantic hype,
Celeb-bios, mindless tripe.
But the old bookshop’s sad decline
Has its worst symptom in this sign—
Go to the store, make this discovery:
Books on “self-help” or on “recovery”
Stretched in long rows from shelf to shelf
Proclaiming that one’s poor battered self
Can be redeemed, restored, uplifted,
And have its mental bearings shifted.
Composed by a slew of worthless quacks,
Therapists, gurus, or plain hacks
Spouting a daft, dime-store psychology
As valid as ouija, or phrenology,
These books all say they’ll change your life
Delivering you from mental strife
Through mantras, exercise, or diet
Meant to restore your peace and quiet.
If you’re a meek and timid nerd
Who’s never had his passions stirred,
They’ll train you to be a roaring lion
Like Joshua and the kings of Zion.
If you’re a plain and frumpish lady
They’ll make you a hot, seductive, shady
Femme fatale whose curving hip
Will turn men’s heads and make them flip.
If you’re crippled by angst or doubt
They’ll show you the way to climb right out
And up from that slough’s foul dereliction
And face the world with new conviction.
If you’re upset, or tense, or fretful,
If you’re slow-witted, or forgetful,
If you’re a child who was maltreated,
If you’re too dull, or too conceited,
If your willpower’s non-existent,
If your decisions are inconsistent,
If you’re a spouse who has been battered,
If your esteem’s been badly shattered,
If you were sexually molested,
If you’re bulimic or flat-chested,
If you’re a long-term drug abuser,
If you’re a simple, brain-dead loser,
These books claim they can save your bacon—
They’ll show you how you’ve been mistaken.
The things you thought were real defects
Are pure illusion. Check the text
And find out how to shed your troubles
As easily as champagne bubbles.
Such volumes promise brand-new vision—
All that you need is firm decision
Plus twenty dollars for the book.
If you believe this, you’re one dumb schnook,
For, like cosmetics from a jar,
These books say: Don’t be what you are.
A notion far more asinine
Than changing piss to vintage wine.
Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide. He is the editor of the literary magazine Trinacria and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.
I’m sorry for the way things are between us.
I’m sorry that I brought it to this point.
Please forgive me.
I’m sorry too for all this bitterness. Forgive my sharp tongue too.
Indeed I do.
I have written extensively about the poetry of Joseph Salemi, and amongst the moderns he is one of our greats. The attacks against seem to me to be inspired by his value system rather than his poetic ability; I haven’t read Gregory Spicer’s other poetry (in which he may shine), but certainly in terms of this contest, the laurel for powerful, epigrammatic satire belongs to Salemi. But talking of the wider values, I am British myself and deliriously happy that Boris Johnson is now Prime Minister of the UK. We have in the West been overtaken by ‘progressive’ values which are undermining society itself, and which are also duplicitous – whilst claiming ‘liberal’ and progressive values, they really represent a deep form of communism; a hydra that simply will not go away. So it is regrettable to have vitrolic attacks but it is important to stand up for clear principles.
Juvenal, or Juvenile?
Since they have been aimed at beginners, Salami’s lines are those of a bully, métier or no métier, and classical liberalism has rarely overlapped with communism.
“The bookshops that we used to see (we-USED-to-SEE)
Were citadels of literacy. (LIT-er-ah-see) (This is not a rhyme)
Classics of grace and wit and style (Is that “of”, or with?)
Greeted your glance in every aisle.
Today, those humane texts are fewer— Do you intend a spondie here? hu-MANE /TEXTS are / FEW-er
A bookstore is a backed-up sewer (really Mr. Salami? an unsupported accusation?
Clogged with the bilge the public guzzles:
Health-food cookbooks, crossword puzzles, (again this is trochaic with a spondee)
Tracts on UFOs, confessions, (You us abbreviation in formal literature?)
Ghosted memoirs and impressions (Ghost-ed/ MEM-oirs/and imPRESsions) is not iambic
Of some fatuous politician, (I have no idea what this is “of some FAT/-u-ous pol-i-TISH-uh n”? This is not syllabic verse. It’s not even accentual verse.
Starlet, drug-czar, or musician; (Again this is trochee and an anapest) To claim a line of verse is loose iambic you need at least one iambic foot in the line)
Best-sellers pumped by frantic hype,
Celeb-bios, mindless tripe.
(Stanza break?) Oh! wait! you completely ignore the fact that this is a new thought
But the old bookshop’s sad decline (another spondee)
Has its worst symptom in this sign— (again a spondee)
Go to the store, make this discovery:
Books on “self-help” or on “recovery”
Stretched in long rows from shelf to shelf, (A poor description. Do you mean these rows circle arond at the end in some sort of serpintine arrangement?)
Proclaiming that one’s poor battered self (Finally a lityle lose iambic meter)
Can be redeemed, restored, uplifted, (Oh dear, oh dear! strict iambic meter? clip-clop clip-clop.)
And have its mental bearings shifted. (clip-clop, clip-clop)
Composed by a slew of worthless quacks,
Therapists, gurus, or plain hacks (I don’t even have to scan this line to see that it’s off)
Spouting a daft, dime-store psychology (“psychology” is stressed sahy-KOL-uh-jee ending this line in a dactyl and NOT feminine rhyme)
As valid as ouija, or phrenology, (Again a dactyl ending)
These books all say they’ll change your life (clip-clop, clip-clop)
Delivering you from mental strife
Through mantras, exercise, or diet (EK/-ser-sahyz, or diet?) (Three unstressed syllables in a row) this is not any meter I’ve ever read)
Meant to restore your peace and quiet.
If you’re a meek and timid nerd (suggesting of course that all who are meek and timid are nerds)
Who’s never had his passions stirred, (clip-clop, clip-clop)
They’ll train you to be a roaring lion
Like Joshua and the kings of Zion. (now four unstressed syllables in a row… Really?)
If you’re a plain and frumpish lady (clip-clop, clip-clop)
They’ll make you a hot, seductive, shady (meaning “of dubious character; rather disreputable?) isn’t this bad grammar? shouldn’t it be: and/or “shady”
Femme fatale whose curving hip (Another trochee)
Will turn men’s heads and make them flip. (clip-clop, clip-clop)
If you’re crippled by angst or doubt
They’ll show you the way to climb right out
And up from that slough’s foul dereliction
And face the world with new conviction. (Really Mr. Salami? This is a run-on sentence)
(Stanza break) Oh! Wait! you don’t use stanza breaks…
If you’re upset, or tense, or fretful, (clip-clop, clip-clop)
If you’re slow-witted, or forgetful, (clip-clop, clip-clop)
If you’re a child who was maltreated, (clip-clop, clip-clop)
If you’re too dull, or too conceited, (clip-clop, clip-clop)
If your willpower’s non-existent, (WIL-poh-er, is where the correct stress belongs making this another spondee)
If your decisions are inconsistent,
If you’re a spouse who has been battered,
If your esteem’s been badly shattered,
If you were sexually molested,
If you’re bulimic or flat-chested,
If you’re a long-term drug abuser,
If you’re a simple, brain-dead loser, ( An expert speaks)
(Stanza break) This last stanza is anaphoric and absolutely should be its own stanza)
These books claim they can save your bacon—
They’ll show you how you’ve been mistaken.
The things you thought were real defects (clip-clop, clip-clop)
Are pure illusion. Check the text (clip-clop, clip-clop)
And find out how to shed your troubles
As easily as champagne bubbles. (sham-PEYN / BUB-bles, another spondee)
Such volumes promise brand-new vision—
All that you need is firm decision (bad diction)
Plus twenty dollars for the book. (clip-clop, clip-clop)
If you believe this, you’re one dumb schnook, (calling the kettle black)
For, like cosmetics from a jar, (clip-clop, clip-clop)
These books say: Don’t be what you are.
A notion far more asinine
Than changing piss to vintage wine.”
Mr. Swami Salami, I think you’re full of bologna. I didn’t even get into the rhythm or mention the inconsistent stressed syllables in these lines. What is this? It is not metered verse. It is not free verse. It does not conform to any form, or type of poetry. I’ve seen elementary school kids write better than this. The truly sad thing here is for someone with your education and position to use your status to malign and belittle. people who look for guidance and direction from people like you. Instead, what they get is this crap. You and Mr. U. N. Wise are perfect examples of hatters that can only find satisfaction in putting down everyone, and everything you see. You are not contributing to this artform. You are the problem with this artform. It is no wonder to me that in the past twenty years the appreciation of poetry has fallen off a cliff. No! neither I or any others that truly love this artform will be able to save it. Not as long as there are people like you who are intent on destroying it.
neither I or any others that truly love
No!
Neither I NOR any others WHO truly love
People in glasshouses……
Dear Mr. Hagerman —
What do you plan to do? Electrocute me?
Buzz off.
Mr. Hagerman is spot on regarding The Nutty Professor’s bullying behavior. Anybody with any practical, real time, street level sociological experience can plainly see it. Hagerman’s testimony is important because there are plenty of online poetry resources where burgeoning bards will receive supportive criticism without the counterproductive smash mouth attitude that has crept into everything lately as hinted at in Big Jimbo Sale’s remarks posted above, and which only serve to help prove that this website’s primary purpose is political and not at all focused purely on poetics.
The only thing classical about this website is it’s trivium placement of poetry as a subset of rhetoric.
There does seem to be a minority of talent here that genuinely places poetry first and I respect them. The trick is to distinguish who is who.
Making that matter a simple one is the bulk of Salemi and Sale’s verbosity which is shamelessly naked political rage hiding behind the thin veneer of alleged classicism. I don’t mind that so much since I’ve done my fair share of the same but please allow for a dissenter’s voice. I cheerfully admit that I am still a rookie with poetry and so I was initially drawn to this forum hoping to find some neutral territory for learning, but there is no neutrality here and the proof is built into the very first theme mentioned on the list of themes for submitted poetry. It may as well be Fox News.
That being said, I will probably most likely purchase the hardback version of the journal. Why? Because I hear that Mr. Tessitore’s work lay upon it’s pages and because I think, like the old Chinese, that a good binding is “classical”… just not on a lady’s foot.
Mr. Tessitore’s work lay upon it’s?? pages
Not a good look for an argument, in major part, based on detail.
It is important to be supportive of people and their efforts, for we all start as beginners and are on a learning curve throughout our lives if we are serious about achieving all that can be achieved. Equally, it is important not to get personal about other people’s work, since that undermines the validity of the judgement, certainly in the view of neutral onlookers. Everyone is carrying a heavy load, so we need to be kind, as Philo of Alexandria commented in the 4th century. I take on board some of what Gregory Spicer is saying, but whereas I think that Joseph Salemi’s poetry is genuine satire, I have to say that Gregory Spicer’s is really just abuse in rhyme. The difference is the wit: how the meter, rhyme and connotations combine in their unexpected juxtapositions. I could demonstrate this in a lot more detail but I wouldn’t want to be ‘verbose’. Abusing people doesn’t help. The last time I heard the expression ‘Big Jimbo Sale’ – which incidentally brought memories that made me smile – was when I was 14 (that is to say, over 50 years ago) in the school playground! Let’s keep it cool; let’s avoid the infantile – it’s simply silly.
George Orwell begins his excellent personal essay “Shooting an Elephant” of 1936 with:
“In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people—the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.”
At least Orwell got to kill the elephant.
Yes, Eric, the desire to be important has misled many. It’s natural, perhaps, to want it, but let’s refrain from trying to grab it by being obnoxious – that is, by being hateful. Let’s be fair to people and give them what they are due – indeed, I take the view that most people have some quality, most poets have some skill, that is worthy of commendation. As I have said many times before, I don’t always agree with your conclusions but I like your contributions since you always have an interesting angle on things. And btw, I really like Orwell as a writer, although I disagree with his political stance. And PS – nice one: Orwell’s real name was Eric Blair, so your heteronym is quite apposite here.
One of the common techniques of the political left is “gaslighting” — the tactic of charging one’s opponents with the crimes that the left itself commits regularly. This technique is perfectly illustrated in Spicer’s pathetic attempt to defend his position in this dispute as that of a poor little beleaguered soul, a young novice seeking only to find help with his poetry, and wanting nothing more that to be “a dissenter’s voice.” He longs for “neutral territory.” The arrogance of his lying attitude staggers belief.
No one has ever tried to silence Gregory Spicer. No one has attempted to censor his posts. His material has been published, and discussion and critique have followed it. There have been sharp exchanges, to be sure, but he has not been banished or forced into silence. To use leftist terminology, this has been a “safe space” for him.
Can Spicer say the same about the vast majority of other poetry websites and venues, where the slightest hint of conservative or right-wing opinion will get a poet kicked off immediately? Where the merest variation from orthodox left-liberal views will generate a flood of furious complaints to the webmaster, resulting in the offender being blackballed forever?
And yet Spicer has the cheek to complain that this website isn’t neutral. We are explicitly anti-Communist and anti-totalitarian, and many poets here are both religious and politically conservative. He doesn’t like that, so he has taken it upon himself to make trouble. Almost all of his posted comments on various threads have been designed to express contempt for non-liberal views, or to start a fight.
Consider the plain facts of how this particular thread began. I posted a section from my “Gallery of Ethopaths” dealing with bookstores. It had no political content at all, but was merely a satirical complaint about the general mindlessness of “victim-culture” in American society, and how it had generated a flood of stupid self-help books. The follow-up discussion thread was perfectly civil until some anonymous poster (on July 17) ranted about how my poem was “condescending” and “elitist” and lacking in compassion for the “weak and lost.” This went by with some minor comments, until on July 23 (six days later) Gregory Spicer posted his insulting and semiliterate pseudo-sonnet attacking me personally. I then replied with my first flyting — which had NO POLITICAL COMMENTS AT ALL.
The fat was in the fire then, and Spicer now had the opening he had wanted all along — namely, to connect the dispute to the currently raging political and cultural wars. When that occurred, I naturally responded in kind. Gregory Spicer got exactly what he hoped for –a political fight that he could use to wreck or discredit the SCP and its website.
The truth slipped out inadvertently, when one commenter sympathetic to Spicer claimed that I had started the fight, SIMPLY BY POSTING MY POEM, which he called “a relentless and gratuitous provocation.” In other words, merely giving voice to a non-orthodox viewpoint on a cultural matter is a culpable act, and something that is rightly subject to vituperative response. Somebody expresses a politically incorrect opinion, and a chorus of accusers is then orchestrated to attack and vilify him. This happening all over the United States today, and is being done deliberately by people like Gregory Spicer and his allies.
And now, when the dispute is winding down, Gregory Spicer piously whines about how the SCP is not neutral, and shares the unspeakable views of FOX News, and how horrible it is that the website publishes Salemi’s evil poetry and critical views, which are designed to irreparably damage young people, etc, etc, etc.
This is pure, gaslighting hypocrisy. Spicer has a political mission, which is either to shut the SCP down, or to terrorize its poetic contributors into following a left-liberal line in all submissions and commentary. He wants the website to become acceptable to his Antifa buddies in the People’s Republic of Washington-Oregon.
Of course he will now deny this, and spout more bull about how he is just a poor little novice poet looking for a neutral safe space, and how he wishes the SCP would be more “diverse” and “non-judgmental” and “open to differences.” Yeah, sure.
I do enjoy the histrionic elements of this thread. At times I am reminded of Oscar Wilde’s plays.
If I combine Mr. Salemi’s and Mr. Hagerman’s epithets, along with Mr. Burch’s, I could go by Mr. U. N. Wise—the Mad Hatter! I like it.
And now to be assailed by Mr. Sale—ah, the winds are blowing. Perhaps, like Odysseus, we can set sail for grand new adventures. Still, disagreement is not hate, nor is criticism obnoxious. Without either, good New Millennial literature cannot flourish. Yes, Mr. Sale was the first to note…Eric Arthur Blair. And though I have no idea about Mr. Orwell’s mundane political stances, I can think of no one as penetrating as he was in reference to the politics of the 20th century—no one. [But politics, after all, is only one of the many enterprises of the human spirit.]
While it is true nearly all writers have some skill that is worthy of note. It is also even more true that nearly all the poems @ SCP are not of much note in the great scheme of things—mine included. World literature is so old, so vast, and so huge that it is very nearly impossible to add to its great store anything new that is at the same time the equal of earlier weightier works. The challenge for all poets who are serious about their craft, in addition to being innovative and traditional, is to face both the future and the past while living to their utmost in the present. And though we all fail—I am reminded by Oscar Wilde’s quote: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars”.
The old silver back alpha male repeats himself by whining about the whiners. Next he’ll be telling us that the Beatitudes are a leftist conspiracy. All his poetry, his comments that rail against his oh so horrible students, and even his admiration of other poems that convey the same sentiment are solid proof of his misanthropy. Look up the word in the dictionary and you’ll probably see a photo of his face. He simply does not like anybody that he perceives as weak or imperfect. I bet the meek inheriting the earth is a euphemism he uses for the early burial that he desires for all of them. I called the bully out and now he whines about it and will continue to do so by calling it his poetic voice, his alpha voice stalking the beta voice every time. Just check out his comments on some of the other threads if you don’t believe me. It’s anthropology 101.
Please crack no grin on my behalf
I prefer no shattered faces
And muster not an anxious laugh
For plugging graceless parley spaces.
Indeed it’s tough to access couth
When budgets will not pay for tea,
But if you laid off cheap vermouth
Your sober manners would be free.
It’s possible, oh yes it is,
For conversation to be nice
Without cocktails made to fizz
When poured all over fancy ice,
And do not think that you lack charm
Because you fetish monster trucks
Or that you had to sell your farm
To harder working Latin schmucks,
But there’s no excuse for lashing out
Because you made poor decisions
By way of witless twitter shout
At snotty liberal derisions,
So, why be so deplorable,
When decorum is explorable?
Now I think I will find a gutter…and look at stars.
Instead of finding a gutter, why not just recite your impenetrable verse at the Howl At The Moon Festival in Vancouver? That seems to be more your speed.
There are still waters running very deep in Mr. BDW, and his sense of humor!
Dr. Salemi’s “electrocute me/buzz off” response – a touch of brilliant wit.
really liked this poem Joseph. It’s spot on.
Thank you, Enzo.