01-30-2022, 07:44 AM
Red hair over the left shoulder.
21st Century blue plaid shoulder pads.
You breathe like sex,
Beth, and are the daughter of the king.
Sing songs of deliverance, no need.
Fair magnus.
Crack a raw virginity in your listener.
A Friday night.
I was having a night off from human beings, and got lonely. I was watching videos on YouTube. Beth Roars videos are always coming up on my screen, so I watch them. I was feeling brave this evening, so I decided to look her up and send a weird poem to her. I decided against that quick. But I saw this when I looked her up:
I assumed right away that I was entering a clever satirical site when I read this:
"Beth Compson Bradford, better known as Beth Roars, comes on the podcast because she embodies the new way creatives need to be creative to make a living.
Things Beth and I talk about:
Self-doubt
Taking tiny steps
Giving up on her dreams"
That sounded rather pessimistic for a serious interview.
But, turns out, it's a real interview. No smartass cleverness involved.
Well, that's said.
I wrote the above poem.
21st Century blue plaid shoulder pads.
You breathe like sex,
Beth, and are the daughter of the king.
Sing songs of deliverance, no need.
Fair magnus.
Crack a raw virginity in your listener.
A Friday night.
I was having a night off from human beings, and got lonely. I was watching videos on YouTube. Beth Roars videos are always coming up on my screen, so I watch them. I was feeling brave this evening, so I decided to look her up and send a weird poem to her. I decided against that quick. But I saw this when I looked her up:
I assumed right away that I was entering a clever satirical site when I read this:
"Beth Compson Bradford, better known as Beth Roars, comes on the podcast because she embodies the new way creatives need to be creative to make a living.
Things Beth and I talk about:
Self-doubt
Taking tiny steps
Giving up on her dreams"
That sounded rather pessimistic for a serious interview.
But, turns out, it's a real interview. No smartass cleverness involved.
Well, that's said.
I wrote the above poem.