The room where it happened (catch that reference)

I have to ask: if you weren’t in Havemeyer 309 last night between the hours of 8:30 and 11pm, then where were you? What could you have possibly been doing that was more interesting, more fulfilling, and more erotically satisfying than the 30th Annual Alfred Joyce Kilmer (Memorial) Bad Poetry Contest?

Whatever excuse you might have is insufficient, but I must pardon you. I must take pity on you, you who were too unfortunate to witness the Bad Poetry Contest with your own eyes, and describe it for you. The contest, after all, demands to be shared with the world.

Before it all began, the audience was given some history and context for the whole affair. The three celebrity judges were introduced: one English professor and two Classics professors, selected through a “rigorous process of emailing all the professors on campus, accepting the first three who said yes, and then telling them nothing about the night,” according to the contest moderator. Then, a Philo alum read a biography of Alfred Joyce Kilmer (CC 1908 and Philoxian Society VP) himself, describing how Kilmer and his friend began to write purposefully bad poetry under a pseudonym and submit it to poetry journals. Although it started as a joke, the bad poetry gained critical acclaim in some circles and critical distaste in others.

In the honor of Kilmer, a man who saw beauty in everything and wrote glorious poems about mundane everyday objects, Philo hosts the Bad Poetry Contest every year. Poets compete to find out who is the best worst poet of them all. This year, after a reading of the winning poem from last year (entitled “Poem Written Approximately One Hour After I Had My Wisdom Teeth Taken Out,”) 21 poems fought for the title.

1. Apologies to Mary Elizabeth Fry. A melancholy, somewhat angry poem, in which the speaker criticized her ex-boyfriend, Jerome, for his preoccupations with her and with death. Notable lines: “You really need to lay off the pot.”
2. A Sonnet in Praise of Ayn Rand. A desperate cry for help from the capitalist paragon of the twentieth century. The poem was, apparently, submitted to multiple campus publications, but rejected because those damn socialists are running everything. Notable lines: “Autos that don’t need to energize, / To crush the state’s anti-tobacco lies!”
3. Ode to the Philosophical Brilliance of My Six-Year-Old Cousin. A compilation of things the poet’s six-year-old cousin had told him, capturing both the beauty and the innocence of childhood. Notable lines: “My dad said I couldn’t use his iPad, so I put my finger on his beard and said, ‘I will shit on your bed when you’re not here.’”; “I’m a slug, I move slowly, and I don’t need math.”; “When I grow up, I want to be a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.”
4. Cow Calling (Based on a True Story). A description of that one time the poet interrupted a bovine mating ritual and found himself face to face with reproductive organs he never thought he’d have to see. Notable lines: “You dipshit.”; “Mighty, mighty testacles sway to and fro. A mighty grandfather cock.”
5. Once When I Was Ten I Called My Babysitter Mom Accidentally And I’ve Interacted With Women Differently Ever Since. A sad tale of a babysitter who just didn’t understand that her babysittee saw her as more than simply a caretaker during his parents’ date nights, memorable for the poet’s use of ironic quotation marks. Notable lines: “‘college’”
6. Word Song (In Three Parts).* A poem, turned in for an actual grade in an actual English class, that consisted of a series of words and phrases that just plain sounded good together. Notable lines: “Adjacent to the rhinoceros.”; “Smut.”; “Photosynthesis.”; “So spicy, rapidly icy.”
7. The Lost Cherry, Or, You Never Bring Me Flowers, Or, Beneath the Apple Blossom Tree You Have Awakened Me, Or, You Guys This Is the Smuttiest Thing I’ve Ever Written but the Bible Is Way Smuttier.* A melodramatic love story (or perhaps lust story?) told entirely in plant puns by a poet who clearly knew her way around the orchard, if you know what I’m pollinating. Notable lines: “He implored her: honey, suckle.”; “I’ve got a big surprise for you … You ready? It’s deez nuts.”; “Should I have put a ring (tree joke) on it? Alas, I never botany.”
8. No And But Slight Maybe Yes. A rather confusing found poem of emails the poet had received from a man whom, apparently, she emails every day with very important questions about a very important organization (sadly, no further explanation was provided.) Notable lines: “It needs to writing.”; “We will aware of his issue.”; “I know it is confusing.”
9. Untitled, Or, NO TIME LIMIT. Not a poem, exactly, but a multifaceted act that took at least fifteen minutes and multiple props. It started with the poet explaining how his graduation just kept getting pushed back because of his inability to come up with a good senior thesis idea. He read off a list of rejected thesis ideas (for his major, American Studies.) The poet also played the ukulele and the ankle bells simultaneously, transforming himself into a “one man violent femmes cover band.” He later performed a song he’d supposedly written in 1917, while living with Ezra Pound in a commune for Nazi sympathizers, accompanying himself by drumming on cardboard boxes. He encouraged audience participation. He debated whether or not to go through his entire 12-pages-long script. And he concluded his act with a cover of “Wait For It” from the Hamilton musical, and what seemed to be an audition to get on Lin-Manuel Miranda’s personal staff. Notable lines: “Wave your hands in the air like you really do care.”; “I have at least as much youthful panache as James Joyce did when he wrote the Wasteland.”
10. Carson, An American Crucible. A parody of “Alexander Hamilton” from the Hamilton musical that focused on the story of Ben Carson, current presidential candidate. This poet played Aaron Burr/a Fox News anchor, and the poet of entry #8 played Ben Carson. Notable lines: “By 14 he claims to be a violent marauder.”; “Took up a collection to put him on Fox News.”
11. My Purpose.* A rather gory poem in which the protagonist takes pleasure in the destruction of his body and his eventual death. Spoiler alert: the protagonist is a pumpkin. Notable lines: “A shock of pain and elation slides through me. This is what I was born for. This is my purpose.”
12. Better Than Craigslist. An advertisement in poetic form for a woman named Emily Cadish who would do pretty much anything, including being your date to the prom, cultivating a good relationship with your mother, and managing your Tinder. Notable lines: “She’ll tackle your problems with zeal and aplomb – write emily.cadish@gmail.com.”
13. Embryo Necklace. Another advertisement, this one for a necklace made of embryos. Not really that much less creepy than it sounds. Notable lines: “You can wear it on Tuesday, you can wear it to the gym.” “Fully formed eyes or your money back.”; “Embryos, I feel like we can all get groovy together.”
14. iPhone. A third advertisement, this one for a pre-existing product: the iPhone. The poem, which took about ten minutes, involved enthusiastic drumming on the podium, descriptions of the most innovative features of the iPhone, and a pause to draw a graph of smartphone “smartness” vs “ease of use.” Notable lines: “An iPod, a phone, and an internet communications device.” Note: at this point in the contest, a five-minute time limit was put in place.
15. The Postmodern Anti-Sonnet 1.* A sonnet that was indeed postmodern and anti, whatever that means. Notable lines: “This pain consumes me like students devour free pizza”; “The angel’s harp is out of tune and softly playing ‘Wrecking Ball.’”
16. Butts.* A poem that, it seemed, could only be performed after the audience made bird noises for a few seconds – and a poem about the colonies of microorganisms that live in all of our butts. Notable lines: “Your butt is like a cigarette butt.”; “Imagine living in a butt.”; “There are billions of organisms currently residing in your anus.”
17. My Body. A diatribe of confusion about the male body. Notable lines: “Do you ever wonder why we have pubic hair? It’s like a cape for my penis that I so desperately do not need.”; “Why male nipples? They are useless. I cannot be milked.”; “I lather myself in vaseline and roll around on the floor, escaping into a reality in which I am a slug.”
18. A List of Poem Titles that I Have Not Written Yet. This poet’s time on stage began with her showcasing a cute dog picture she’d bought to calm her nerves, and a shoutout to this guy, Steve, who she’d apparently met on a farm earlier that day and then brought with her to the Bad Poetry Contest. “Is this a first date?” she shouted. Steve held up a thumbs-up, and the audience cheered. Her poem itself consisted of, as the title suggests, a list of poem titles, as well as some commentary. Notable lines: “My gut bacteria ghosted yesterday.”; “Fuck y’all.”
19. A Series of List Poems. Actually, two list poems: the first a list of rejected New Yorker cartoon captions, and the second a list of old New Orleans cuisine vs. new New Orleans cuisine. Notable lines: “Where does a person go to the bathroom around here?”; “Sorry, can you speak into my good ear? I’m having trouble disdainfully ignoring you.”; “Blackened pelican, blackened drywall.”
20. Found Poem (of Things the Poet’s Friend Charles Said in Facebook Messenger.) This poem was put together by the poet’s friend while the contest was taking place. And Charles, whoever he is, seems to live a wild life. Notable lines: “I have glitter on my penis”; “Super hot ginger … He’s bending over … I’m suddenly craving a pumpkin spice latte.”; “I’m versatile and I have the chlamydia to prove it.”
21. A Poem By My Ex-girlfriend. Another, more melodramatic found poem, consisting of things the poet’s ex-girlfriend had said to him. Notable lines: “It doesn’t sound pretty, you’re not pretty, but it’s real.” “I love you – get it?”

Bad poetry – real bad poetry, good bad poetry – is self-aware in a way that makes it hilarious. It transports its audience away from real world problems by using very real objects in exaggerated ways. In the words of Joyce Kilmer himself, “Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.” But good bad poetry can make an ordinary tree into a great poem.

And the bad poetry at the Bad Poetry Contest last night did just that. I feel honored to be a life-long Philoxian Society member (as all attendees of the event, and all attendees of any Philo meeting ever, now are.)

Note: poems denoted by an asterisk were winners; the grand prize winner was The Lost Cherry, Or …

Photo courtesy of Betsy Ladyzhets