I wrote you a poem…

There are three different types of writers in this world.

At the top of list there are published authors who make their living at writing. These cats are usually at the top of their game and have put in their time to the craft. I put both novelists and journalists in this game. Basically, if they don’t do any other work but write, whether you enjoy their work or not, they are at the top.

The second type are the writers, while haven’t quite taken the step to write full time (or make a decent enough living from it), but have maybe a book or two published. Or maybe some short stories in credited magazines/book collections. Or maybe they freelance and get the occasional article published. But they aren’t quite their yet and maybe have a full-time job (or maybe part-time), but they are sweating to hone their craft and trying to make a name for themselves.

The third, and intentionally last, are the wannabe writers. Nine times out of ten, these consist of wannabe romantics who, when asked what they do, they reply with “I’m a writer.” It doesn’t matter if they are a policeman, fireman or Indian chief because they tell everyone they come in contact with they are a writer.

Guys, I’m talking to you now. Let me clear up any confusion.

No. You’re not a writer. You’re not even close.

You are about as much as a writer as the waitress in LA is an actress. Just because you have a notebook or two of crappy-ass love poems — and, yes, trust me, not only do they suck, but even the women you try to use them on think they’re ghey — doesn’t even come close to give you the right to pass yourself off as an author.

And, while we’re on the subject of your poems…

Stop it, okay? Just stop it.

Nobody wants to read them.

Honestly, when was the last time you went to Borders & Noble and thought to yourself, “I have a hankering for a mammoth book of poems.”

That’s right. Never.

And let me tell you something else. I know the only poems you read are your own. And, coincidently, you are also the only person who willingly reads your poems.

Let’s face it, unless you are a 16 year old girl, poetry is pretty boring.

I know all of this because I was once there. Well, I’ve never been silly enough to claim myself an author, but I did the poetry thing. And, like you, I did it to get laid — or, at least, to get women. But that is a story in itself and will have to wait until another time.

So, let’s sum it up.

1. Writing notebooks of poetry doesn’t make you a writer. Unless you are as big as Stephen fucking King, no one wants to read it.

2. Stop claiming you are a writer. Unless you are making a viable living from your craft, or are busting your ass so you can, writing a verse about the beating of your heart does not make you a writer no more than me recording myself talking makes me a DJ.

3. Stop writing poetry. Poetry is easy. Write a book.

Now, somewhere in this blog (not this entry, this blog), is a poem I wrote. I thinks I even say it’s the most honest thing I’ve ever written, and it is. But the difference is I don’t claim to be a writer (although I am probably more of a writer than half of the poemboi knuckleheads will ever be).

So, again boys, stop with the lies. You are only fooling yourselves.

And, so you completely get it, I will put it in a language that you will understand. I wrote you a poem.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Stop fucking calling yourself a writer

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I think I fit into all three categories. Is that good or bad?

Freak Magnet

I wrote a poem:

I am here.
You are there.
That sucks.

I’m a writer!! I’m a writer!!!!


Poemboi. LOL

In 6th grade I won a statewide writing contest with a poem. It went onto a nationwide contest. I didn’t win that, but I got a letter from Ronald Reagan saying that I was way cool.

I have no idea what that poem was about today, but I’m guess there’s a good chance it was about motorcycles, baseball or Star Wars.

Miss Jodi

Stew’s a poet and don’t know it….



Dude… it didn’t even rhyme. Your poem sucked.

I need to keep up on your blog more, I am late to everything.