found on a blog; this seems fairly bad

The moon lady was beautiful,
not shy at all that special night,
white, and bright,
and robed in a perfect circle
of bruised and purple clouds.

I stared up at her for some time.
The way that face
gazes down upon this Earth,
it isn’t too hard
to imagine a round-faced mother
doting on her extraordinary child.

Think Again

Think Again

Acrylic on canvas by Unknown (but it is signed 'Richie' - Andrew)
Acquired by Scott Wilson from trash (obviously! - Andrew)

This disturbing work "makes an offer you can't refuse". The chilling, matter-of-fact manner in which the subject presents the severed head to us is a poignant reminder of just how numb we have become. The understated violence implicit in the scene speaks volumes on our own desensitization, our society's reflexive use of force, and the artist's inability to deal with the hindquarters of the animal.

intenionally bad versus unintentionally bad

Attempting to write intentionally bad stuff is an interesting exercise. Perhaps it might result in unintentionally good writing (unlikely though).

Here's one of my efforts from a few years back. At the time, I was teaching the Creative Writing course at UvT (Mark Vitullo, who is in charge of the course, had too many students to fit in his class so he opened a 2nd group; I gladly took the chance to teach it).

My idea was to try to break a good number of writing rules in one short story.....


Never Give Up

A story by Kevin Murdoch

Harry P. Peabody, commander of his own fishing boat, felt very disappointed. He had caught no fish now for a long time. As fishing was his livelihood, his financial security was dependent to a large extent on the number of fish he caught. Accordingly, scanty or empty nets represented a severe financial blow. As we have already said, he had caught nothing now for a very long time and so he was really down. He expressed this feeling to his wife, who comforted him as best she could. She had her own problems though. She wanted to move to the big city and become a teacher because she was fed up with her hard life as a fisherman’s wife. She had said as much to Harry on many occasions but he, whilst he understood how she felt, felt that they should not give up on their fishing.

Harry had a boat. This boat was a very unusual boat. One morning he took her out and cast out his nets. It was a nice day, one of the days that make you feel really good. You know the feeling- you wake up to the sun’s happy face beaming her rays down on you and you feel like everything is gonna be ok. You can pack up your troubles in an old kit bag. Harry felt like this. He felt that his troubles would soon be in the past. While he waited for the fish to bite, he looked at the sea.

But once again, the fisherman returned home empty-handed and disappointed. “Oh not again. I can’t believe it” he said to his wife in an unbelieving kind of way. “Oy rackun ‘tis a rum stayt ov affurs we iz expeerienzin’ moiy dear Harry bat doan you give up” she said in her strong local dialect that not many people besides Harry could understand. She told him that he must just wait till the good times came again.

Sure enough, the next week, the nets were full of fish and they were able to buy a new and bigger boat. From that day onwards, the business prospered. Harry P. Peabody never looked back and his wife’s timely advice not to give up can, in retrospect, be seen as a turning point in the affairs of this down to earth, honest and hard-working couple.

The Tay Bridge Disaster, by William McGonagall

(see http://www.mcgonagall-online.org.uk/ McGonagall is widely celebrated as one of the worst poets in the English language)

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seemed to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say --
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say --
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the people's hearts with sorrow,
And made them all for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay.
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

One of MOBA's 'bad' paintings. The commentary is hilarious, I think

LANDSCAPE #6
DogAcrylic on canvas by UnknownDonated by Elizabeth and Sorn Poeckle, Copenhagen, Denmark

A remarkable fusion of ski resort and wolf puppy -- stoical in his yellow-eyed silence, frozen beneath the ice-capped peak, Dog elequently challenges the viewer to rexamine old concepts of landscape.

MOBA

Museum of Bad Art

Funny website, well worth checking out

In dog roll I am going to post bad poems and stories. Some will be written especially for the blog.