e.e. sheenings
I want to preface this by saying that my friends are brilliant, and although I wish there had been more submissions, I’m blown away by the 2 that did come through!
So here’s the back story:
Unless you’ve been living under a rock (and even then), you’ve probably heard about the ongoing implosion of Charlie Sheen. Love him or hate him, his antics and verbose psycho babble ramblings have made for delectable Facebook and water cooler fodder. In one such instance, I decided to post a mash up of my favorite quote as my FB status:
“I have tiger blood and Adonis DNA, motherfuckers.”
From here, numerous friends responded with their favorite Sheenisms, one which included “Can’t is the cancer of happen.” Another friend, Graham, noted that this sounded like a line from an e.e. cummings poem, which I thought was a brilliant and astute observation. This sparked an idea: What is we wrote our own “Can’t is the cancer of happen” poems, in the style of e. e. cummings. Submitters could either chose to focus their poems on the topic of Sheen and his antics, or completely divert from the subject matter while still using that amazing line.
I posted the challenge online, with a prize promised for the winner. Since only 3 of us had enough tiger blood running through our veins to take the challenge (myself, Graham, and Chris M.), I declare us all winners! Gentlemen, if you email me your addresses, I will send you both a special prize.
Follow the jump to read the poems… and if you’re feeling up for the challenge, email me at sara@iamnotajedi.com to submit your sheenism!
Alabama Foghorn: 12/12/1968
Impossible divinely darling Cans floated from her feet to her waist to her hands up-conveyed thence from her heart to her brain chemically untaxed with thought or strain
of the negater of Can: not. Of a concrete-rough malignant agent she’s a victim now, without repent, of the insidious cancer of Can’t.
-g. coursey
i blinked and cured my brain
because – radical Gibson/Penn calls came to the red phone that lies on my sunlit ego in the rain
can’t is the cancer of happen of the party’s rules you people don’t know magic
i drink red drinks until you live with my brain – not of this earth. bitch. -cj matarazzo
kacey and charlie, brittany and bree went down to the mansion(for a partying spree)
and kacey discovered how her phone rang after tweeting and texting and sexing;and
charlie befriended another porn star whose eyes after freebasing languid were;
and brittany was bashed by a horrible thing which raced upstairs while blowing more coke;and
bree came home to their king-size bed as private as a world and as pleasant as dread
for however we unhinge, however we scant we always must know the cancer of happen is can’t. -s.w. moreno (based on this cummings’ poem)
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