Saturday, July 11, 2015

Update on a Poet's Public Blobble

Fame at last, fame at last, fame at last. Top of the world, Ma! You may not have got there with me, but we reached the promised land.

Following the previous piece assessing the state of a public Facebook feed of one of the new breed of independent know-all ye poets, Bethany Pope, she blocked, blocked, and blocked some more, because she hasn't the faintest idea of what dán ('poetry') is, or what i am talking about, dearest Reader.
 'Desmond Swords' wrote a blog-post in response to yesterdays status about my frustration over Amazon not making Oprah's notes optional in my kindle copy of a book that I was very much looking forward to reading. It's funny, but the thing that I find the most irritating is the fact that he got my bio very wrong (I've published four books, dammit) and he misquotes several of my friends. Needless to say, this fellow is blocked. If you know him (we had 58 mutual friends) I suggest that you handle him with caution. What I'd really like to know is what kind of person writes 2k word blog-posts in response to a stranger's 50-word status update?

I've just discovered that Desmond Swords also goes by the name All Ireland Poetry Slam. I've blocked that pseudonym, too, after he posted a very long, very weird spiel on the status below this one. Does he have any other pseudonyms that I should know about? This is getting really old, really fast. Like club music, but thankfully without the teen-sweat.

Awh, poor Bef, stuck behaving with the rest of the ultra-confused as if its the 1990s. Inside a social-media bubble and public echo-chamber, where a handful of harmless language experts spread the positivity and goodness their practice of poetry returns, in the kind and supportive discussion of one's poetic retardedness and questionable mental-state. Thank you gods of fame and poetry.

Ira 'Who' Lightman: 'He's a monologuing twerp and always has been.'

Bethany Pope: 'No way was my status worthy of an enormous blog post.'

Louise Larchbourne: 'wow, what is he on? and what is he talking about?' (Poetry, Louise, you know, what you qualified at on Facebook.)

Bethany W Pope: 'No idea. He just came after me again with a pseudonym, so now I've blocked him twice.'

Ingrid Andersen: 'Did you ever reject any of his poetry, Bethany? He's off his rocker.'

(Alas, for you,  Ingrid, no, i never sent a manuscript to any publisher. They never tempted me, I'm afraid. Lucky me, with fourteen years of unpublished spontaneous speculative discourse and the odd poem.)

Kathryn Gray: 'Desmond Swords is a well-known troll who has been around for about a decade.'

Danica Ognjenovic: 'Sounds like you need The Morrigan'

Tim Turnbull: 'Desmond', Bethany. That's who. His ability to fill up threads on social media, forums, blogs &c. is legendary.'

Mark Wallace: 'Back when The Poetry Foundation blog (out of Chicago) had open comments on its blog posts, this guy posted non-stop attacks on pretty much everything.'

Bethany W Pope: 'That's very, very sad.'

Angela Topping: 'I think he's a known trouble causer.'

Richard Copeland: 'I don't know this Desmond Swords character and, after what I have read about him so far, I have no wish to know him. You were right to block him.'

Fiona Pitt-kethley: 'Anyone who writes 2k words unpaid is a plonker.' (aw, luka yu)

Sarah Coles: 'What the very actual?? How horrible.'

Sharon L Zink Freak! 'Is he in love with Oprah?'

Julie-ann Rowell: 'Bizarre, people can be figured out.'

Clarissa Aykroyd: 'Wow. I believe this gentleman is what is known as "a crank".

Bob Gillham: 'I don't read ANYONES NOTES and you know fuck making it mandatory! Surely there must be a way of blocking them... As for Mr Oddity,mtheres a lot of them about!'

Tiffany Atkinson: 'Good grief'

 Neil Fulwood: 'What kind of a name is Desmond Swords? Sounds like a pseudonymous writer of cheesy 60s thrillers with a Matt Helm style protagonist and no respect for woman. Actually ...'

 Kok Wei Liang Hahahahhaah, oh this is comedy GOLD!


'Thank you, thank you, thank you, too kind, too kind. I'd like to thank first my English teacher, Miss Burns. Playing Malvolio at fourteen opened my mind to the majesty and power of the English language and for this, I thank you. God bless, may we all live long and become noble laureates.

Thanks Tim. You're seem to be the only one of this lot enjoying what you write.

Hello, Fulwood Neli, Fuwldoo. Darling, sweetie, 'what kind of a name is Desmond Swords?' 'Not hard'; as forty generations of trainee poets on the fourteen year Gaelic poet-training curriculum (5-17C) used to begin - as Campion tells us - the croan with; or, in English; croon out in singing school the set memorised texts they learnt by rote and regurgitated in front of the ollamh; that, er, you are, hey Sir Neil, luvvie, dearest. A fwitefilleh pwitteh name, Neil, angel, darling, most beloved little boy.

Desmond is my paternal surname, from Macroom, West Cork. The myth in every West Cork Desmond family is that we are the last living remnants of the Munster Earls of Desmond. There's a cluster of us from there and nowhere else in the world.

And Swords, Sir Neil; far from having 'no respect for women' - is, I'm afraid, one's mother's maiden name. A Dublin woman, emigrated to Liverpool aged twelve, both her parents from Bahola in Mayo. She passed away suddenly four months ago next Sunday. And with my paternal grannie-spirit, Winnie Masterson, from Achill island, I'm a three-quarter Mayo quarter Cork soul expressed through the mouth of a daft Lancastrian Spacer.

Joyously 'trolling'/playing with language, in Dublin, dudemanbrosis of the disembodied poetic s/he intelligence. Mind, spirit, the aboriginal voice there, in Nottingham, old boy.

Which explains the Byron template you wrongly project onto the reasons behind one's real name, and is, as my name itself proves, so utterly an incorrect instinctively, er, poetic guess.

You reveal what sort of phantasmagoria's working your linguistic intelligence, and pleasing well-spokenness. 'Ye gerrin mashin wen ye gerrin, duk?' Ah, yes, of course.

As for being a troll, well, the angelic Seren Gray alien claiming i am a well known 'troll' (eye-roll). Yes dear, that's right. Keep plugging away and the faeries will come and join you in Edmonton. And if you're really well behaved they will take you away on an Imram, otherworldly journey. And one of the fourteen genres of tales forty genrerations of poets had to know, so which, of course, you'll know all about as well. Seeing you're such a committed anti-trollist taking stands on important social-media fora issues. And a marvelously well regarded member of ultra-polite society, speaking very little in spontaneous conversational public prose. You can come back and sell us what you saw in your next amazingly profound head-shot. Luv those erudite updates.

A voice the poetry loving public can trust on the question of who is and isn't a troll in the faery language game you play so, er, eloquently, in the many prose screeds of critically experimental speculative discourse and self-reflective conversational global poetry phone-booth business (yawn) talk, that you're churning out there in lala land. Love tha nu tewns. Great tone.

This is not trolling, it is shooting fish in a barrel. I learned a lot writing that piece, accompanied by a poem that came out via the act of telepathic wish-fulfillment and knowing what the eye and ears are doing. Fine. Finally, after years of being a well known troll, i can relax and just carry on without any need of validation from the editorial titans of poetry and publishing here at Bethany's place. Awh.

May you all live happily ever after in the one line model
May you all find success and happiness with your poems
May you all buy wisely and time the absence to fit rhyme
May you speak song sweetly and love life always, gudbai.

Seriously tho, i mean, i spent a lot of time on that piece and it is now a stand alone piece in which Bethany and her friends are only really the excuse for me to shine on my own page and in one's own voice. Any reader, especially doctors of poetry teaching in universites, can see that. Can't you? I mean, c'mon gals, what are the critical parameters to what we are doing here, talking of, er, what we are pretending to do, or actually doing.

Discovering exactly what was taught to the forty generations of forgotten poets few of you could give a rats ass about because it is soo easy to do, learn the fourteen year course and come out the other side a rhymer in Bubbalin tewn.

Adios amigas, don't listen to the trolls that don't even know they're trolls. My name is Kevin Desmond Swords, Ormskirk, Edge Hill University, Conceptual and Experimental Poetry Centre. You should do the MA there. It's grrreat.

Grá agus síocháin. #luvnpeez.

Kevin Desmond Swords

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