Where does Rupi Kaur rank among the greatest modern poets?

awful

Women are awful

You guys can say what you want about Rupi, but as a teacher, I have students who have wept reading her poetry through the sheer relatability and inspiration of it. THAT is what really matters. THAT is what poetry is capable of.

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god I feel sorry for your students

(You)

Obvious bait you tard
No one over 25 goes on this shit board

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Way below Nael.

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nice random thoughts there
it would be swell if someone were to actually arrange it in verse and turn it into actual poetry

Yes
YES

It's called free verse poetry you fucking idiot

its called low effort reddit tier shit each single one of us could make in 10 minutes

>free verse """"""""""""""""poetry""""""""""""""""

>muh vers libre
Kek

sounds like a taylor swift song or something lmao

I'm treading you motherfuckers like some damn tractor from agral industries. Yoiu are acre to me and nothing much more. I am master - of the slaves and i swing you so hard by my hands into the dirty dirt with etness mingled in that you will pray to your mommas that they save you from these nightmares of humiliation and submission that my disordered high mind is handing out from th ebackseat of the winning party of history. I am the power that deals the cards and cheats with three times jokers up my sleeves when you weren't looking. I got that feeling that there's more to be found in that cruise coaling cave where the man with the pickaxes disappeared into and where my raidingz are leading when when the time is right and when the moons is ready - a bashing is in for those who stumble my paths through the cave which is a cave older than even i am, i who am the oldest in heart and heart beating rate - even i waver in front of the age of this cave who is carried by electric waves among a dreary and i swear this cave's been inhabitated by megalomaniacs who claim that they own the recipes for alchemist neutralist rituals. Bitch i'm not lying so stop doubting the words of mine, the megalomaniacs are real. You believe it or not, if you don't i will scream oyu a whole new fucking ear - so sharp will the wind zisching through the tetth hit the back of your head.

Alpha megalomaniacs do not waver in front of the ultimate strength which is mine, they posess weapons of individual destruction and believe in the ways of the cavedigger Boob who did so much touh tought shit that all the other cavediggers were about to lose when he got them grounded in their graves. Boob the cavedigger had a few simple lines by which he maintained the high life of his self. The one order was to obey the chosen and to not be flippin on the ruler who is Boob. Boob was tenacious in the upholdings of his laws and so the cult of megalomaniacs was forced to bserve. I entered the cave when the time was right and my minion raiders who wore Uzis and were clothed in military apparel and knew how to play the drums when the moment was ripe were walking in formation around me. When an arrow would be shot they woul dsacrifice themself. They would create a circle of human shields round me to ensure my survival. That's the type of shit i really dig, makes me feel so good. But when we entered the cave shit was quiet. There were bouncing flickers of light from our nightlamps with extended AC Batteries and superb handling manufacturing as to provide healthy and fine wrists for longer times than would be the case with regular supermarket nightlamps. There were flickering screams in the past but we did not heed any warning. We faced the land of dreams as the cave was also known for what i had not told my raiderz was that the megalomaniacs were carriers of visual hallucinations to which they gave physical form - but even harsher were the audiohallucinations which eminated from their shroomdriven brain

>is there anything i can do to make you think, her she

no

>It's not copypasta

huh.

"fucking up bitches is what i life for" the guy who had one eye but 2 hands screamed into the microphone so that the noise levels were shocking to the audience which was sitting with pants at their ankles in a white rice field down in Chna where also many other people were who were unrelated to this event yet lived many times more important lifes and struggled the struggle of those who had to ensure a living on their own. Only a handful of them decided that it was unpleasant to live this way. Sun Tzu was one of them, he was sitting on his stairs and said to the everflowing aether that surrounds all beings - he said: Mother Earth, i call upon you for you have granted us life, but now please heed my call and answer this question, i will in return sacrifice fine lambs and some more to you and honor thy name as it is the law among men who respect the divine beings - Mother Earth, why do all men need to do something? Why do all men need to do something and work for example, why do men need to work? It#s so unpleasant it's so terribly humiliating. I reject all, i reject all mother earth. I do not wish to work, i do not wish to submit and to accept what is not mine and to follow another person's mind." He had gotten heated though his tongue was tied due to the presence of mother earth that he sensed to be close to him. But when he opened his eyes and opened them even wider he saw all of Mankind standing before him like the brightly flickering stars in the night sky. The world showed itself in it's totality but from an ingapable distance and as he had gotten up from his stairs he shouted at them all, eyeing them all and meaning them al: YOU ARe ONLY ALLOWEd to eXISt AS OBJECTS OF MY COnQUeSt AND MY RUlE

To the east the waves were rising an don them was riding a young boy named Mao Zedong, he wore sunglasses, had a slim fitbody, blonde hair, blue eyes, a SIXPACK, yes inded.Mao Zedong was waving the rides as if he were Odysseus true enemy the carrier of the world, Poseidon aka Lord of the Sea as men from other religion called him. He did a backflip 360 and utilized gravity as to jump with his surfboard into Sun Tzu's house. There he landed and transformed himself into a tea kettle. Sun Tzu having been pleased by this sudden and unexpected appearance made himself some time and pondered furtherly on his struggles. How, he wondered could i master the Art of War against Mankind? He wasn't entirely sure though when he thought about it it was just another way of trying to force himself to follow some stupid project when in truth this all went against his grain. "I want a swimming pool" he wrote on a single note and put it on his fridge were images of the Rollings Stones and a selfie with Toru Takemitsu's rotten corpse were also hanging. At that moment a call reached his phone. It was his mother. He picked it up. "Hello, good, good i'm fine? Ho-, in weeks i will go hiking in two weeks. I'm preparing everything at the moment, i'm going to buy a tent tomorrow but

"ahahaha why am i so fucking fat ahahahah" said the girl with blue hair and a swollen stomach to the people who were waiting outside a coffee store trying to pick up TE LINE. THE LINE was a new event that took place in a all national coffee houses loated in Bulgaria. It was a reality TV show where people were filmed while standing in a line, this was then livestreamed on youtube so that people could comment and observe. One of the favourites of the audience, which spanned several one houndred thousand peoples, was Ivo Olgakov, a man with casual sexual fetishes and a conventional perspective on life. What people really liked about him was his speech impediment, he talked very fast and quetly so that it was just some insect buzzing or some incoherent mumblings, at the same time it seemed very important for him to be heard and acknowledged and also he smelled his chances for great success in television and thus tried to often make jokes, which faled because nobody understood them but Olgakov looked so stupid while trying hard to be famous that he actually got famous. Ivo was so opportunistic that he didn't care about why people loved him. He decided to just do whatever's been doing the whole time and some more. Ivo's wife was contra this but her power was limited. In their relationship she was clearly in the weker position and while Ivo was an anarchist communist and a pacifist, so that he denied all justificiation for power over others, he exerted just that over his wife through superior levels of speech and expression and a subtle but effective manipulation of her self-perception. Only she was really vulnerable to Ivos attempts to feel powerful due to only her having adapted to his insectous mumbling and buzzing and so the whole violence of his witty tongue forced her into submission. Olga Olgakov was far from weak and far from stupid but she loved Ivo more than she loved herself. She didn't love herself at all and ate up everything from herself that was served on a platter. Sometimes Ivo would say "I played you like a dan fddle" anmd Olga rejoiced in the joy of having been mistreated and that Ivo had done it in such a vreative and sophisticated way, almost as if by magic, just through words. Olga's mother the baroness Ivana was less satsfied. She knew about Ivos secret secrecies and his subtle subtleties but she was a neoliberal rightwinger, which means that she wanted to bla bla bla. She was an ice cold queen, ruling over an empire of woman as she was the queen of a mainstream consens manucaturing company. This particulars company interest was to manufacture female consent on what clothes were to be worn in autumn. She was quite succesful, as a result tshe was also stonly rich and heavily unabashed by having to pay, say 100 euro for a week of food. Sometimes, when she was daring she would even buy cheesecake from a store specifically designed for prodiving some playful and unique cheesecake. What nobody knew was that Cheesecake was more than jus

>op pic
that's actually pretty good

The ideas are solid but extremely underdeveloped. Essentially prose sentences chopped up with virtually no attention given to form, except in the broadest sense through which it may still --apparently, without embarrassment -- call itself poetry.

you can't compare rupi to nael user, he's on another level

i unironically like this

She doesn't.

>/thread

This is actually pretty good

>Pre-mature ejaculator

What's your point? Does poetry have to take 50x longer to write than it takes to read to be considered poetry?

the force is strong in him

not really about the length, just the effort. there's nothing remotely special about it. why is anyone paying attention to this? it just sounds like a corny top 40 pop song.

I agree that it is pop-ish but I don't agree that all poetry requires (or is qualified only by) slavish effort, especially if it is in the vaguely WCW tradition of being 'immediate', 'instinctive' and 'colloquial' i.e. true to experience. Rupi Kaur reads to me like a typical middle-class feminist whose immediate reaction and manner of processing the everyday is filtered through this high-literate lens of academic leftism. Sure it's slightly political in this way -- pretty centrist honestly and why it is pop-ish because it's not particularly radical in form or content, and it sells well -- but I don't think the correct response is to be political in turn. It's still arguing over this point of centrism and media representation instead of exploring a new paradigm for the combination of academic + immediate. It's not special to us now because this is generally how we experience everyday life.

>phalic/ovarine figure
>"to fill the empty parts of me"
now that's p o e t r y

Everything I've read from her reads like a shitty tumblr post. She's trying so hard to be deep and intelligent but she fails miserably.
And does she have any other problems than average relationship troubles?

dude there's literally nothing there
the metaphors are as unique as bread; there's no attention to form or rhythm at all; whatever it is that she's saying has the same insights as any third-rate pop song

Like I said, it's pop-ish, yes. And like I said, it's a part of the vaguely WCW tradition of immediacy, etc. Form and rhythm isn't the point of poetry in a holistic sense.

people are going to look back and laugh at the these kinds of menstrual blood shenanigans some day (some of us already are).

carlos williams had sensational wordcraft, observant eye and unique perspectives to propel the immediate nature of his poetry
like i said, there's nothing worthwhile at all in rupi: it's braindead and sterile in its futility. like all pop culture, it's the commonplaceness of the approach and content that make it go popular. her poems are ordinary, lack insight or any hint of technique, that's why they're so popular

poetry written for middlingly attractive 18-30 year old women to pretend their life is more complex than it is

ah... a true evolian

get out normie

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

the first and only in the kkkrest.

Sure but as our language changes so will the reception to Kaur. Commonplaceness doesn't necessarily mean 'not worthwhile'.

Why do you hate women?

>Commonplaceness doesn't necessarily mean 'not worthwhile'.
It actually does. Her poetry is kitsch

>tfw a 6 year old is better than Kaur
>tfw a 6 year old references Joyce, Blake, Jarrell, Evola

Yes sure but kitsch doesn't stay kitsch forever.

they'll use her shitty poetry on inspirational dollar store calendars some day

>It's not special to us now because this is generally how we experience everyday life.

exactly. does the term pedestrian mean anything to you?

I know a PhD poetry graduate who thinks this is hot shit, she's completely brain dead about local poetry though. Even educated people can be without taste

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No, but a lot of precum leaks out. And when I say a lot I mean a lot. I have no idea why this happens but it is certainly irritating, and all the more so because I can't make my jizzy underpants a cause celebre and get my shitty poetry book onto the canadian bestseller lists.

Nael has potential

wew

Fuck this reminds me of someone really specifically. Blake?

>be nael
>20 years from now
>dad died from lung cancer 6 years ago, mom very recently passed away aswell
>gray april day
>cleaning out dead mom's house
>only one box of stuff left
>find a folder in it labeled 'nael - pre school, 2016'
>discover an old poem, apparently part of an anthology
>whatisthis.hypxr
>read it, smile at my innocence, think about my younger self
>memories of mom and dad starts showering me, feels hit me hard as trains
>filled with melancholic nostalgia, decide to try and look the anthology up on the hypernet
>hypergoogle my name, the poem and the anthology
>bunch of random links, go to second page of hypergoogle
>see this weirdly named site, it's an old website, not a hypersite
>rupi kaur [...] 6 year old outperforming [...] great work by nael
>w-what
>click on >>warosu.org/lit/thread/S9539229#
>see my poem
>bunch of anonymous people praising me and my innocence
>lost all ability to detect irony because hyperreality is real
>they're actually analyzing my poem, they liked it
>read posts saying I outperform everyone, great job nael, love the simplicity
>check date: 20 years ago
>wow
>already in a very emotional state, tears now start running down my cheeks
>sit down on the floor, think of parents, my youth and these kind anons
>stay on the floor for a long time
>suddenly hear birds chirping, look out the window
>the sun has fought its way through the clouds, front lawn and street looks beautifully serene bathing in sunlight
>take a deep breath, smile and get up
>put the folder back into the last box, pick it up and exit the house
>get in my hovering car
>as I make a move to start the car, my eyes linger on the folder with the poem again
>feel a sudden immense sense of joy and gratitude
>tears start flowing again, but out of happiness this time
>everything will be alright
>thank you Veeky Forums, I say out loud to myself
>wipe face with my hand, smile and drive away

Milton 2.0 coming through

I honestly thought these were just posts from an insane girl that we all laughed at but then I actually saw her book in the store. I couldn't believe it.

Isn't this the poet that /pol/ tried to troll by making fake versions of her poetry and as usual they failed?

She's a big talent.

I wept when I read Eliot and that was actually moving. This is just self expression. It is not art. It belongs on a poster, not in a library.

Man this bitch has got the most major daddy issues I've ever seen in a human being. And I've seen some serious cases of that, let me tell you.

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Most of those don't even sound like poetry at all

Godly

This is why I'm glad I'm not a woman. Imagine actually having thoughts like this.

Unironically pretty fucking good

Remove the second half and it will be alright

goodfeels

I actually like this

She is brown.
She is lesbian.
She had a period once and posted it on instagram.

this is a man who will ignite the aesthetic movement that finally destroys western nihilism.

Someone post the girls poem who was also six about her mom not loving her or wanting to see her

>primal bestial fury vs. a spoiled girl whining about pants
+1 desu

Whoever made this fake seems to have very poor eyesight because they didn't notice the watermark on the image they used.

Damn, that's actually pretty impressive. I like the economy of it.

I hate how most of the people talking about her just go "FUCKING WOMEN" when modern male poets are just as bad and her gender has nothing to do with this. Retards

Same here, and I live in Europe

Does the image "They're Singing a Song in Their Rocket" seem very Pynchonian to anyone else? Maybe I'm just thinking of the limerick soldiers from GR but the mental image I'm forming is of a bunch of people very happily singing some happy tune and holding hands while their rocket flies into the sun.

Are you a girl

>implying rupi kaur is a poet

Please I can't find it

like an
arrow
the moon flies across
the sky

it brings
darkness

>mfw a person who only operated on 2 layers of irony posted on my imageboard

I actually support everything she says...uh oh

>she makes my body forget it has knees
wow, so deep