If you live next door to a crowd of moronic young arseholes Geraldine, feel
free to come on my chat joint and write as many notes to self as you want.

What is a poet but someone who wears a mask to engineer as creatively as one
can, the course of a life in poetry, which is vastly different than having -
on paper - a career in poetry.

An angst ridden life long home owner in surburbia who publishes the odd book
of stuff they label poetry and makes an occasional appearance in the rags
slagging off other people in their pool for not being a poet, in univentive
pedestrian lingo, is not a poet in the sense of a verse-smith living in a
milleau where bullies have got the upper hand in existential reality; such
as in towns and cities throughout England and Ireland.

To outface these knobs creatively as a survival strategy, i would suggest
they are the true poets, and Jane Holland has been trying to take the mick
out of you, and in this board in general geraldine, insidious dictator shed
is in her gulag of thralls she seized from Lumsden a few months back.

She is slagging this board for the level of talk, pathetically attempting to
snoot cock ot coz she thinks the level of chat lower than in her own
concentration camp, where she acts the heaveyweight underhand troll.

I got snipped from there, immediately after a brief flurry of back chanel
communications where i was completely straight wiv her, as i always have
been with everyone in the poetry world. She sniggered at Lumsden with me,
congratulating herself on her coup of getting the usual suspects who were
hardly chatterbox material with any deep insights into poetry, herded like
compliant sheep into her oxymoronically titled Poets on Fire shack.

Treating me like she was doing me a favour, asking me to be less windy, and
snipped me straight away when the new lot came in. You may remeber i got
slung of poem uk for the same thing, for being a poet among a bunch of
pretend hippies who were really bores of the most pointless order, who had
an aversion to me talking of the bardic system of education, of the taking
on of the four cycles of irish myth, which i now have, just passing anruth
or Enobling stream level, around the time i got slung off hollnds site, and
got straight on the Guardian and upped the wordcount to 5000 words a day by
the time they snipped me, for the same thing, talking of bardic poetry and
airing my research.

Not as a know all, but in the natural poetic way, of teasing to coherency
the study and research, and printing the knowledge to know what it is. Make
the abstract concrete.

Every step of the way, i was honest and all these dickheads tried to shut me
up, and now they are cracking on..oh dear, he was right, we are wrong, now
we have to be nice, as he never had a game plan like we did, he was the only
true poet in the mix..

Indeed i even got my own talk shop, without trying, with no subterfuge and
plotting, it came natural, as all my learning has, coz i am genuine, not an
underhanded troll like holland, who has just gone deeper into her prophetess
of verse delusion, messiah level, evidenced by a load of new talk lore she's
been printing up for the limp tongued thralls who constitute her board
subjects..wanting to be nasty to geraldine, acting the big I am amergin
bollix, proving that power corrupts and petty power just fattens the ego, so
herr mein furhess, why not give a kicking to me, leave geraldine alone,
she's got enough on her plate bully a woman who lives bext door to
antisocial males, on her own and outnumbered whilst you write your boring
poetry i find very dull and spout your crap prose of zero poetical
insight...sorry mairead, but bullies get on my nerves and i couldn't give a
ratz ass about what anyone thinks of me sticking up for the genuine poet
geraldine. I have read her work and immediately apprehended it as A1,
holland is a career poet, on papaer only, geraldine has the life in poetry,
lives it, holland is a faker..

Come here geraldine and talk owt yer want and as experimental as you like,
no one here will bat an eyelid. Utter hypocrisy, holland talks about poetry
and the process, yet fails to recognise and worse, actively interferes with
unhelpful negative slaggings in the work of one of Britains most genuinely
innovative voices, proving her interest is not poetry but her own pathetic ego..

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