Down Under

I’ve spent quite some time- and could even argue more than I should- reading poetry online. I don’t think much of the prize winning poetry out there and here on Medium.com makes a clear nice image of what poetry is. I mean, don’t take me wrong, but it is a share, a portion of what it is.
I could’ve let it go- as many people do- and regard it as fashion. We all read here and there some sort of fashionable poetry. Some poems are OK, many are horrible, a few are good. Nonetheless, I miss something on this writing social media of ours, that is, toxicity.

There has been a lot of toxicity around Medium.com and in these magazines, to be honest, but it is positive toxicity. I just miss the old-fashioned trolling- and critic reviews as well.

So, it looks like I have the cheese as well as the knife itself in my hands! I mean, my profile isn’t at all a popular one- accounting to the nothing-to-lose side of the story; and it has never been fashionable either! I won a few poetry prizes here and there, but I refuse to consider that my work has been taken seriously anywhere; and I myself don’t take it too seriously.

Therefore, the anger.

I will be analysing a few poems I read online from now on, giving some sense to this masoquist habit. And maybe this profile becomes a bit more serious on the way down this road.

Good luck! (I guess…)