The Lindsay

If there was a Stupid Poetry section, this would go there. There isn't, though, so here we go. This was written spontaneously in the chat.

L is for Lucky. Lindsay is lucky.
I is for Intelligent. Lindsay is intelligent.
N is for Noodles. Lindsay likes noodles.
D is for Dilbert. Lindsay may or may not read Dilbert.
S is for Staring_at_ceiling. Lindsay is also know as Staring_at_ceiling.
A is for Acrostic. This poem is acrostic.
Y is for You just lost about 30 IQ points from reading this... sorry about that. >.>

*dies*

- Mattstor!!

Woo! 30 down um...how many more to go?

*Calls little penguin in charge of IQ points and is informed that she didn't have 30 to spare*

...Oh no...*shrugs* Oh well, plus I've read this over about 7 times so that's...*counts on fingers* Um...a whole lot of missing points. But come on, it's my name, how can I not love it? lol

*high fives Matt* Awesome!


Lots O' Luv,
The Lindsay

*thinks the I for Intelligent may be a mistake*

Again I've been tricked out of IQ points...

I like this! It's all part of the great enigma that is Lindsay. Awesome!

It didn't strike me as particularly poemish, but then, what do I know?

Peace, love, chocolate,
Muffin

Great job, it's not stupid at all. Keep up the good work.

Haha, that's cute. The spontaneity adds a little something to it that makes it worth the loss of 30 IQ points. It's really amusing. =P Not bad for something that was written on the fly in a chat, though that could be the less intelligent me saying that. I somehow doubt that though.

I think it's a little goofy, and while it's not, like, stellar, award winning poetry it was a really amusing little poem. The only line I didn't like was the last one; somehow, it didn't fit with the rest (which is excusable, considering it's overall spontaneity.)

Dilbert is the shiz. I like noodles, too.

This is a post modernist masterpiece. Its deconstruction of literary artifice is seamless, its evisceration of the poetic establishment, quite chillingly heartbreaking. While these masterful subversions of the media are reason enough to laud this lyrical gem, it shirks even it's own genius for the simple song of human love, of the beauty of knowing those little truths of one another. What is bliss but to know which way your beloved hangs toilet paper, feels the rain on their eyelids, or likes noodles.

Fine Festive Fun, Five stars.