Post-Postism

I wrote this poem for my high school English teacher. She made me hate English. But for all her snobbery, it looks like she created a writer despite her best efforts.

At any rate, I’ll let her try to figure this thing out and tell me what it means, since that’s what she did in class anyway: feed us the lines (in the form of gobbledygook, pseudo-analysis, and ragaing feminist man-hating rants) that she wanted us to derive from the texts she rammed down our throats.

Here’s to you, Mrs. Z: you know it all, and damn the rest of us!

* * *
I seem to have written some pieces
That are beyond description
What I think we are stumbling on
Is post-post-post-post-ism

Which is not to say I’ll mourn at all
The lack of demarcation
Between the eras we define
And their eradication

I will say this, because I know
As a post post post post it
I'll try to make my points quite brief
With one last little bit

Of rhyme and reason before I slip
Into post-chaos, and post-anarchy
Without these terms, the critic dies
Relieving the world of a bitter and savage beast