Sorry, I hate the hate poem.

Hey, I think it's great. I only posted the poem because somebody went off track with child molestation and stuff. Don't see that in there.

Why on earth her appearance is important is baffeling? Barbara, you are beautiful! And Lauren is right, Barbara's maturity and grace would overwhelm you, as it does the judges, if you ever have the opportunity to see her perform. I'm just glad she has the gumption to step on to that big, empty stage and share her talent. Yay Barbara!

Barbara also recited Preludes by T.S. Eliot and I Felt a Funeral in my Brain by Emily Dickinson. Her maturity and grace as well as her depth of understanding impressed the judges.

We are so proud of her!

I'm not criticizing the young lady, rather her choice of "poem" to recite. She would have been much better served by reciting something by Carl Sandburg or Robert Frost.("The Road not Taken" comes to mind)

You all are certainly welcome to have an opinion about a piece of literature. But why in the world would you criticize a local teenager advancing to a national competition based on her performance of a poem? Let's celebrate her success and wish her well as she has this amazing opportunity to represent Frankfort, KY in a national competition. Way to go, Barbara!

Hate Poem
by Julie Sheehan

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I'm digging
from under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant "good morning": hate.
You know how when I'm sleepy I nuzzle my head
under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.

See, exactly the crap I'm talking about. How in the world did you come up with that Wapping?? I don't get anything about "sins" being acceptable and child molestation and political correctness out of that.

How the heck did you get that???

I read the poem. It seems to be a satire on the ability of the human race to come up with people who hate everything. It's part of the humanist, politically correctness run amok movement that has taken over our schools and entertainment. You can not dislike anyone for any reason and there is no such thing as sin. Well, maybe child molestation, otherwise, all previous "sins" are now acceptable and you are judgemental and prejudiced if you think anything else. No wonder our world is going down the tubes.