Poet Robot Review

The following is a completely serious review of the entirely serious upcoming collection Poet Robot by E. I. Wong. Check out his writing at https://notesfromanarcissist.wordpress.com/

28495754Hello, Reader

Good reviewers are completely objective.
They leave no trace of themselves in the review.
The only thing you should notice about a reviewer
is their name at the top of the thing.

A good reviewer would never rate a book higher
because it was signed personally to him or
sent to him as a review copy or
because the author “liked” things on the reviewer’s blog.

A good reviewer, of course, gets immediately to the point.
He does not write in a silly form to reference the material being reviewed.
He certainly doesn’t ramble on about other things
like the experience of waking up with an anime blow up doll
at five in the morning that seemed to take the shape of a certain poetic robot
and who promised sexual favors for…well… a good reviewer wouldn’t say what for, would he?
After all, he would never accept sexual favors.
Good reviewers are all virgins, of course.

A good reviewer certainly would point out some of the questionable font choices,
and take into account the fact that a good chunk of the material is available on the author’s blog,
but look at that robot’s eyes.
Don’t you just want to find that robot’s usb port and plug yourself in?
Look it’s saying “heart” already.
What could it hurt?

A good reviewer would mention the parts that made him
laugh,
made him
feel,
would admit that certain sections left him in awe of the, shall we say, Wong?
And would reiterate, even though already stated in the reviewers review of Tin Lion, that the story entitled
“To Describe Blow Jobs Artistically”
is one of the most astoundingly beautiful things arted.

A good reviewer knows lots of fancy terms to describe things.
Like arted. And pretty. And diegetic.
Yes, yes. So diegetic. Such control of “the craft”.
Such poetic chop suey.
These are all things a professional reviewer would say because they know.
What do they know?

That this book is good
and represents the views of San Francisco.

Try Out Hate Poems! I Love Hate Poems!

Hot damn, you feel the power in all consuming words.

Bet you aren’t even thinking,

you think like the light sequence in 2001,

you’re in such a hurry to cough the words out of the back of your throat like their some sort of infection,

BRO:

they aren’t gonna to bite ya,

just slow down and take, a, breath,

On your way through Candyland you always take all the Chutes and Ladders,

So suddenly this thing you call consciousness and we call uncertainty is everywhere and not a person on the pale speck can check it,

your eyes light up because the hare is more fun than the tortoise,

and when you reach the finish line without so much alerting the referee’s that their stopwatch fingers should be primed and their cocktail glasses lowered you confound with – “it was crazy.”

Do you realize that there is a tipping point?

If everything is crazy,

suddenly nothings crazy,

except (maybe) the teller.

Do you understand how words can lose their weight?

It’s not like working out,

when you use a word so to a degree that “it is crazy”, you can see the muscle drooping, quivering and fading away in atrophy,

and the inverse is true… don’t we all wish for a little balance?

I know you want to share that feeling that courses through the landmass of your skin,

I know you’re at most Times nothing less than a cardboard box full of jelly donuts and military grade explosives.

I can always see it in your eyes in how they dart about

life, and the way you stand up and play with your hair,

sometimes I want to tell you that all I see are the big O’s and tight lines and that I can’t understand a word, but I think you know that,

anyway you sometimes say you do.

It’s funny, almost

like you know that you’re going too fast, that these words will never get what you want across, maybe

and maybe that’s why you raise your voice to fill the room spouting “crazy” like a broken sprinkler, over and over,

could it be that the words are just filler,

and that the meaning is actually hidden behind the words in another world

we hardly even realize is spinning just because we can’t see it.

Are you some sort of warlock tapping into the energies of another plane,

or are you just

bad

at explaining things?

***

LOve poems? try out hate poems! I love hate poems.

I’m going to be the best hate poet ever. I’m going to write the sonnet 130 of hate poetry, you dirty fuckfaces.