• Join The Fed
• Advertise with The Fed

• About Us
• Contact

In This Issue

• Get Your Freak On, Dorks
• (Almost) Rejected by Israeli Security
• Beaten by the Retard: Adventures in Drama
• Letters to and from the Fed's Maxima and Co.
• Columbia Hipsters Are So Shallow You Think You’re in High School
• Are You a Terrorist? The Government's Shocking Answer
• Failed Terrorist Herbie Bin Laden Marries Jewish Wife, Dabbles in Scientology
• Poetry.com: Your High School Poems are Waiting for You…
• Bottled Water: Bigger than Jesus, and now Semen Free
• Revolve magazine: The Seventeenth Seal
• I Passed the Oral but Failed the Urine
• Horribly Hassled Hermaphrodites Harangue Humanity
• Trial and Error Your Way to Perfect Genital Design
• Shot Down! : Rejections Made Simple
• Your College Essay, but with less Suck
• New Twenties Bring Back Tired Old Monopoly Money Jokes

Lots of middle schoolers and high schoolers write poetry, and that's because their little souls are full of torment and woe.  Most stop because they are shamed into stopping by some kid tells them poetry is for pussies or dorks.  But some continue, either because they have genuine talent or because their souls are full of torment and woe.  For the first type, a few rejection letters won't deter them.  After all, society often doesn't recognize a true genius during their lifetime.  But the second type isn't in the poetry business for rejection.  This poet wants pity, approval, and love.  For this poet, there is Poetry.com.

I first discovered Poetry.com when I was taking a writing class back in high school.  One day a fellow student announced that one of his poems had been published online.  I was thoroughly horrified by this news, seeing as I was a much better writer than him.  The web site where he had been published was Poetry.com.  "They've published over 5 million poets, and I submitted my poem to them, and they accepted it," he beamed.  Well, there was no way I was gonna let this little brat with his penchant for all caps out-publish me.  And so I entered the vortex of Poetry.com.

This is how the web site works:  Poetry.com invites you to submit your poems for prizes ranging from $500 to $20,000.  On the top of the entry page are pictures of smiling culturally diverse people holding checks.  (They may be culturally diverse, but everyone has a $10,000 check except for the black lady, who has one for $1000.)  When you submit a poem, it is automatically posted on the web site.  Some, such as my classmate and myself, may interpret this as being published.

Encouraged by this quick acceptance, I checked back on the site occasionally, entered the Poetry in Motion contest (basically like refrigerator poetry on the Internet), and waited to hear if I was that month's grand prize winner.  I soon received an e-mail from Poetry.com, not to tell me that I had won lots of money, but rather that I had been selected for publication in their book: a beautiful one of a kind, leather bound volume that only cost $40 plus shipping and handling.  That was when I started to get suspicious.

I had noticed that the Poem of the Day featured on the main page was often less than brilliant.  Now I decided to search through the Poetry.com archives for the names of some poets whom I respected and admired.  Much to my surprise, none of them had been published on Poetry.com.  So who were these over 5 million poets?  Just a bunch of pretentious amateurs?

I ignored the e-mail about the book, but I was alarmed and dismayed to find, a few days later, that they had sent a letter to my house.  And my parents had seen it.  The conversation went something like this:  "They want to publish your poem in a book?  That's wonderful!  Congratulations."  "But I don't want them to publish it."  "Of course you do!  That's stupid.  They want to publish your poem!"  "Well we shouldn't get the book."  "We have to get the book!  They're publishing your poem!"  "But it's a scam.  They don't publish any good poetry.  They're just trying to con you into buying the book."  "They're publishing your poetry!  Your poetry is wonderful!"  And so there is an expensive book of bad poetry somewhere in my house with a name like A Stream of Imaginings or Journey to Infinity.

From then on I determined not to have anything to do with Poetry.com, but they weren't going to let me go so easily.  Over the next three years, I received hundreds of e-mails and pieces of junk mail, inviting me to attend their poetry conventions.  At this convention, they say, your poetic achievements will be honored when your poem is read in front of poets from 58 countries, and you will be presented with the Outstanding Achievement in Poetry Silver Award Cup, a magnificent work of art valued at $200.  Upon examining the web site, though, one discovers that everyone who registers for the convention will receive this wonderful award, and all you need to do is pay $500-$600, plus airfare and hotel accommodations.

I can only imagine how these conventions turn out.  two thousand poor struggling poets shell out all the money they've managed to save up from the last six months of their Barnes & Noble salaries and fly to Orlando, where they wander around asking people where they can find the poetry convention.  Eventually, a guy in a Donald Duck suit slyly directs them to Pleasure Island.  Hopefully the weekend isn't a total loss.  Once they realize they've been duped, the pain of the experience should provide material for more poetry.