A rupi kaur parody poem is indistinguishable from a rupi kaur poem

What does this even mean?
>eww don't sleep with me
>also don't fuck with me nigga

I like staring at
young girls
with their short shorts
but I'm sure
Rupi Kar
would have something to say about that

It means that John Green is a hack

You only hate her because she writes simple, small, relatable stanzas while you have failed all your life

I got cheated on once
and raped at a party
You'll buy my book because
you've all been too.

Also your logic is flawed.

She is X and Y and you are not X and Y.
>but I'm not A C or L!!!!
Neither is she.
The criticism is that you are bad at what you try to do and have NOTHING to show for it. You can make an argument that she is ALSO bad at what she tries to do, but you can't say she ALSO has nothing to show for it. The worst published writer is still better than the best unpublished writer because they have the confidence to fail.

See? Pure bitterness. If you channeled that energy into trying you wouldn't be such a faggot. But you don't, so you are.

I'm already published but
Rupi Kar
is too
she is a hurricane but
I am a weather vane

all bad
poetry springs from
genuine feeling
to be
natural is
to be
obvious and
to be
obvious is
to be
inartistic

to be or not to be - rupi kaur

You've got *rotates my finger like a crank near my temple (similar to the way I fingered your mother (except it wasn't my finger but a red hot iron))* mental issues. Swallowing too much semen can do that (*whispers* it's the prions!)

This is really poor trolling

Cmon people stop taking the bait

Damn little nigga goin in!!!

Lol. You're a lonely, poor pleb and she's a wealthly, happy pleb. ;)

don't use such foul racist terms, sweety

i got dragged into urban outfitters the other day and they had a copy of that book on a table next to a book about kim karashian, i was like wow

Rupi Kaur is a Canadian poet, writer, and illustrator. She is popular for her use of undercase letters in all her work with illustration, all of which she does herself. Rupi works to transform experiences of pain and longing into anthems of acceptance and triumph.

that's why i don't like poetry in general. i honestly can't tell the difference between good art and bad, or between parody and sincerity. even when i enjoy a poem i feel like part of me is only enjoying it because i'm "supposed to."

i occasionally get this feeling with novels too, but on the whole i can tell the difference between good and bad. for example, scalzi makes me roll my eyes while rothfuss immerses me completely.

rupi
it is time
to go
to bed

Walking on a lone street my face is hidden away in yesterday i stretch my eyes as to see what is there around me and find nothing that frees me from my lack of identity. My face is blank, it's empty, a white spot. But then who am i if i have no face? It may seem asilly question, since one could measure my identity in several ways, but be truthful now: A man without a face becomes that: A man without a face. How people behave with me and i behave with them is determined by my facelessness. Oh what i would give, my lord, as to assume the face of another. WThen atlast i could return to society and stop being the monster that i am. Oh lord, a new face, what joy would you bring me. And then as i was thinking such things, pleading to God, who lives in the sky, i saw a young woman walking past me and smiling right into my face. I swaye. She just walked past me, not looking back. A single smile, like poison, an arrow piercing my heart. It was a smile of pity for a faceless man. I laid down on the street, crouching tiger. I was a faceless man. I fell asleep and started dreaming the following:

A man runs across a mountain and is clothed in NAKEDNESS in his hearts there remains the beating of arabian drums but outside only a swaying penis and his bare skin in the wind of mountains is left! h the sun said and covered it's eyes and the naked man did not care for he was Naked notby choice but rather by animalistic impulse. He had been driven by UNNAMED forces to tear apart his costume and show the world who he was in truth. clothes had confined and defined him. They were in truth a vast negation of his true self: A Naked Man. This naked man ran up the mountain who was a high mountain and steep, reaallly steep. So step that a Mountain Goat named Charles Baudelaire would sometimes jump up with difficulties and sometimes also slipped and then died a painful death, never to be reborn, paying for it's stupidity. But not the naked man ohn no. He racn so fast that he left ashes in the snow of steepnesses. And when magical females would sit and attempt to seduce him he would wave them away, pointing at his penis and exclaiming: I am a FREE man, you shall not negate me THIS night. "what about tomorrow" a thing like a dryad sang to him but he waved his head left an dright with emphatic emotionality. He would soon reach into the very hights and there was his goal. Oh yes, he said: Goal is incoming. Indeed as he ran upsteeps tthe clouds grew ever more thicc and unthroughseeable, there were things to be expected beyond them, like the top of a mountain. And indeed, jumping past supersharp stalagmites who hanged upsides down from the mountain into the hair he reached the top. As he stood there a joyus music filled his body, it was the song of love. And he danced ecstacically: I do not deny thee world, as a matter of fact i will always say YES to you world. TO YOU, only to YOU i will say yes. You my dariling. And as he said it he got out a knife and cut his throat and i wok

"There's a darkn night of rain out there" said little nigger marco to his white rich friend Caramelo. Caramelo smirked and said: What do you know about nights little nigger. You don't even are 18 years old or something. Like dude did you even ever fuck a pussy or something. Dude. I took like the virginity of 20 people and they were underage." Caramelo was 18. And carameloo gave the little nigger a clap into face and he who had been clapped was fuming with outrageous rage and screamed. you are a GOD DAMN racist Caramelo, i will not stand by you and let me be talked to in this way. Respect is the fundament for a functioning relationship. Respect is what keeps society intact, it's a category of formal laws that are unwritten and yet structure the way we interact and you break them CONSTANTLY but only with me because i'm a nigger." "iT#s not because you re a little nigger but it's because you are not NORMAl, you see?" Little Nigger Marco was in truth 20 but Caramelo the rich white man from Chicago always caled him underage as to make fun of Little iiggers immaturity. I guess it could be said that Little Nigger was abnormal, he did things others did not and often he would look into the sky instead of looking at chanel shopping windows, he also did not like sticking bunnieears on the Mona Lisa or silver plastic stars on some paintings of ancient struggles with gods. Also he would sometimes move exquisitely in tune with some dank music he liked, but also he was not a great fan of Nigger music for he called it too vulgar, too explicit and triablesque. For this little Nigger Marco was bullied heavily but only by Caramelo who was the only person that bullied Marco but was for some reason also Marco's only friend. "Nyuk Nuyl Nyuk u smart little nigga, if you are so cool then how come you are a manlet?" he sneered throwing halfeaten icecream into Little Niggers face. "you are ablack bitch, my dude" Little Nigger Marco was really upset but didn't know what to say, to react now would have just worsened the wole situation and also made him seem uptight. "You god damn little monkey, what are you staring at". White noise sounded quietly in the distance. "I god damn HATE the black population. I write hate posts on facebook that target tthe afroamerican ethnicity. Or rather: minority. hehehe" The noise grew louder. "Little Nigger Marco, when will you finally dip your sausage into some puss sauce?!" The white noise grew ever louder and Marco wasn't even listening to Caramelo anymore, besides what fucking idiot had the name Caramelop. As the White Noise started surrounding him entirely Marco was filled with new confidence in his finger skills and facial expressions but also in his desire for something beyond chanel Shopping Windows, which were the main attraction of people in his hometown. Tick Tock the clock said and Marco heard it. White light, Whithe Noise. Then flow of time and being resumed and Caramelo had disappered. He had been eaten up by the White Noize.

you just lack knowledge of technique

The poems start coming
And they won't stop coming

"ladies and genlteman it is my duty my terrible and haunting duty to report to you that something unelievable has happened. I must fight back my tears as i'm struggling to find the power to announce what i have just been informed of has occured today in the United States of Europe. It is a tragedy of such a great extent and horriblneness that i simply can not find the words to express the grief that is shaking my heard. I wish to call upon god but already know that even god weeps, shaken by what has occured. if all musicians on the world united to create a sad hymn as to tribute the terrible events of this day, it would not be enough. Ever since i had been a child i ha dwanted to be a teleivisoon reporter, ever since i saw this very handsome man on the news channel with a moustache that made my heart pound and hair that looked so above-it-all, that seemed to make this man float, float higher and higher towards a realm of higher beings. How he handled the news, was always in total control of the world and himself, determining wht we hear and not and how we hear it. Being the center of the screen for 15 minutes, catching the attention of thousands of people who were hypnotized by the stream of news that constitutes a communal self in the time of the mass man. I was so deeply moved that i immediately dropped out of school, mind you i was only 24 and just about finishing high school then but i knew that i had to choose radically different ways. The world was in my way, i wanted to access the plain of pure being that i associated with television news, with this state of pure power over reality as endless amount of people perceived it... Yes, i knew what had to happen. I moved to New York and bought myself an apartment, it was a cage with small confines for living and breathing but my god, if this is what it will take then so be it! I started by moderating basketbal games in ghettos, i would broadcast them via radio and soon the communities of minorities would blast the radio stream on the street as their street teams were having games against each other. Those were the good times, i had felt such a great amount of appreciation by the local communities that i wish i could have contributed in this way to the joy of living that these people had, but sadly it is a fact that the kind of people who live in such a freeminded and positive way, valueing community, family, the streets, their roots are the poor folks with little economic hope, so because of that i just wasn't able to sustain my life financially. This lead me towards making a next radical step. I announced via loudspeaker that i was going to quit my job it was a really bi gevent and Afrika Bambata blasted some crazy music as to appraise my performances as the ghettos game commentator on basketball games, and after a street party that lasted 3 days i said a final goodbyie and walked away. My next goal was LA. I was 28 now, still a young lad no? Sometimes you just know it's right outside your door.

Three woman stand in my room as i walk in from work. "Wow what an EXHAUSTING day of work, i just had! But who are you?" The three woman chuckled and waved their breats subtly and giggled and said: Sire, your phone is ringing. Do you not wish to pick it up Hihihi Please sir pick up". I smirked with tinges of insecurity and felt a bait shaky. I magined these 3 girls to be naked, and felt a stirring in my looin as an author of books would now write. I had an erection. The woman giggled and laughed and pointed with their fingers and said: Your erection is plain to see, we know it's standing for us, you and me. But Sir, hihihi, sir, the phone is ringing do you not wish to pick it up." I was dazzled, frizzled, couldn't really think. These bodies, they were top of the notch. They were the toppest of the notch. "Little godesses" i said to them with a goofy smile on my face. "I think i'd rather spend some time with you. I have to say though, i just came back from an exhausting day working in the factory of my company, who exploits me without blushing once! As to relax would you mind if i were to take of my clothes? surely young godesses like you are not too shy of a naked man, enjoying the little spare time his masters have provided him with?" The three girls giggled and chuckled, they whispered to each other. They were all three blonde. and all relatively small in terms of hight but not in terms of... sexual attraction. "Sir, what about you pick up the phone first and then we consider if we mind seeing you naked or not hihihi." said the blonde girl, "yeah sir, we really urge you to pick up that phone hihihi" said the blonde girl. "FINE. FINE! OK! i'll pick up that fucking phone." With a face of sexual frustration and precum leaking out of his peehole the man turned around and walked into the other room. "Sometimes you know it's right outside your door, sir, hihihii" SHUT UP the man screamed feeling humiliated. He walked very slowly towards that door but it was not becuase he wanted to rather he had a needle in the feet of his and it hurt whenever his feet hit the ground or the floor if you wish to see it that way. The man was sick of his life. "I'M GOING THERE. I'M ALREADY GOING OK" he shouted this because the girls were giggling for he was so slow. "I can't do it faster. I'm already triyng my best." he said while shuffling slowly towards the door behind which was the telephone hich was not ringing but demanding to be picked up. The girls chuckled and whispered. "I CAN'T DO IT BETTER THAN THAT. STOP LAUGHING AT ME. I'M DOING IT AS FAST AS I CAN." the girls now laughed hysterically and started to put off their clothes and wiggle their asses at the man who did not dare to turn around espite hearng what was gooing on. "Sir, hurry up, pick the phone up!§" they said giggling widlly. "You're not being fair here. You'RE NOT BEING FAIR HERE. I AM A FACTORY MAN. I CAN'T PERFORM ALL THE TIME JUST TO PLEASE YOU. I'M DOING IT AS GOOD AS I CAN. MAYBE THERE ARE BIGGE

My nigga how'd you know???

This is fucking good.
Both the poem and the actual quote are actually good.

John Green is definitely a cuck but he's clearly not a hack

disagree, the parodies always have an obvious mocking tone and usually use reddit tier memes

Piano playing Lisa Schrottheimer has pale hands who light up like milk in the shining moon when she waks with sadness in her eyes up the street towards her home where angry joe and cautious cathy were waiting for her to arrive as to serve tasty dinner with vinegar andoil too. A man walked past Lisa saying: Absolute purity is what i must reach. I must be a cristal entity, growing ever more clearer and pure." Lisa was frightened and started shaking unctrollably. She said "w-w-w-woa-aah. woooa-aha-ahhh" and started running with pale fingers up the street and then into her house where she started crying hysterically and threw herself on the floor hammering wildly on it and angry joe was shouting from his couch for her to get her shit together while cuatious cathy watched fearfully from the distance trying to observe how things would develop before she intervened. Lis awas shmashing around wildly saying curse words as if posessed by evil demonic entity named raush, who was said to have lived in this area 2000 years ago before colonists from the east had arrived. the deomnic entity had it been the stranger so obsessed with purity? had he passed on his spirit into her? Transmission THROUGH EARS maybe it said in the files of some deomologists in a secret government facility down the earth with security cameras observing the facility staff AT ALL TIMES. Lisa was flailing herself around, a whirlwind or such things. "THIS IS THROUGH THE FFUCKING ROOF" angry joe screamed and farted into his couch silently as to not be caught in doing so. He wasn't thinkin much of it. "CAUTHIOUS CATHY TAKE CARE OF THIIIIS" he screamed growing ever more angry at Cautious cathy being oh so passive and cautious. "STOP PUSHING ME, IT WOULD BE DANGEROUS TOINTERVENE NOW, WHO KNOWS HOW SHE MIGHT REACT?! THERE ARE SEVERAL DOZ... there are several dozen ways in which she might react and some of them are potentially dangerous, to your, her or mine wellbeing. As such i recommend a cautious approach to this situation." Now Angry Joe got up and walked with determined and extra loudly steps towards cautious cathy. "im sick of your bullshit. take care of her. Now." he whispered with a tomato red face and big nose and testoterone and adrenaline doing their work in his body. Cautious cathy was frightened and with swift agility escaped Angry Joe and ran up the stairs into her room which she locked. Angry Joe ran past her hammering at her door. "OPEN NOW YOU FUCKING FREAK. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. TAKE CARE OF OUR DAUGHTER YOU GODLESS BEING". "I will not talk to you I WILL NOT TALK TO YOU... while you are so angry, it is potentially dangerous and may lead to harm, short term or long term either physically or mentally, potentially. I recommend you to calm down and observe the different outcomes of which some are dangerous and then readjust your course of action, your strategic movement for this kind of situation." Lisa had disappeared, swallowed by an invisible being. "OPEN THE FUCKING

"our next tune is named minasoko no machi, it is by one of my favourite composers though i do not know his name. Once i walked... now i won't tell you this story nmow." said my dad with a face of cosmoligical constellations to the crowd playing on is piano. "You are redudant" a fan screamed not too loudly but hearable. "oh yeah okay i am, whatever" said my dad who was still playing the piano. Another guy in the audience started insulting the guy who called my dad redudant and they both had an argument but reached a consensus and then hugged and high fived and the guy said:"While i may not agree with you, can understand your position. I think this is just a matter of perspectives. I liked your way of discussing it thought so let's just agree to disagreee." and they both hugged and the other guy.

"Okay guys what about we play some melancholic japanese tune now." my dad said to his band and then the bass dude walked up to him and said: you got a smooth face, man." my father walked towards him and said" Oh yeah? I gotta asmooth face huh?! and the bass dude said:Yup" and my father hugged the man "yeah man, really smooth" and then hit the bass dude really fucking hard into the stomach who collapsed on the ground. "My father laid on top of him fixing him with his limbs and then starting to bas that bass dudes mouth in really smashy and heavy. "Yeah i'm a man with a smooth face huh?! Yeah? yeah that's true, i'm really fucking smooth you fucking faggot." "Dude, i really like the way you smell. You smell pretty good. It's pleasant to my nose" the bass dude said and smelled some more. "oh you like the way i smell huh? yu like that? does my little dudew like that?" and my father started tickling the bass dude. "do you like that?" "yeah man iihihi" and my father tickled him some more and then started kissing him passionately. "i like your saliva basss dude" he said and licked his tonge really fast and kind of doggyish.

"ARE YOU GUYS FAGGOTS OR WHAT" someone from the audience screamed. My father got up immediately, pointing his fingers atht euaidence as if he was a searchlight, going left and right. "Who said that. Who said that. Show yourself" the dude who called my father redudant motioned that ithad been him. The guy who had questioned the redudant guy before sassumed a neutral position, knowing that he himself judged such erratic and insulting behaviour but understanding the arguments and justifications for the other person behaviour and thus accepting it, deciding to not influence what would happen ext. "It was me, sir. So are you faggots?"
"Hey man, are we faggots? Hey bass dude? Are we gay huh?" "Yeah man, we're really gay man." Bassdude said and started making tongue motions at the guy from the audience. "I'm not gay man. I'm not fucking gay. You're a faggot or what?!" My dad walked towards the bass dude and stared at him. "I asked you. Are you a faggot or what?" "Yeah dude i'm a really bad bad faggot man, eat my dick u cumslut." He wipped out h

as a millennial, i'm suspicious of anything that requires knowledge to enjoy

My least favourite

racist to chinks

Emerson once strolled through the Louvre without stopping to look at a single picture.

...

Bitch please like you dont have that one person that you wanted so badly that didnt give two fucks about you

Tell me more please

how do poetry creative writing professors react to Rupi Kaur-eque poems?

They jelly like u niggas

goodreads.com/book/show/23513349-milk-and-honey?ac=1&from_search=true

>looking at the reviews
>first five or so are women shitting all over it
>first 5-star review is an Asian guy

wew

tell me more about your bruised ego and romantic failures

are you even black? it's embarrassing to see kids talk like this

Yes. Just because I don't constantly conform to the intellectual negro stereotype doesn't mean I can't get simple on some basic ass chump niggas.

>rain men

I don't know more. I gleaned that from a Guy Davenport essay and it just popped into my brain and is more lit-related than Rupi Kaur.