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FAQ: Why is the term: "Poetic Scout" an Oxymoron?

Though the following is not a poem, it links to poetry and personal experience, so enjoy nonetheless. This blog is in dire need of some comic relief, wouldn't you agree? ;)

Why is the term, "Poetic Scout" an oxymoron?

I learned this from experience. No sooner had I been persuaded to join the army of scouts and tacky uniforms than I begun to have the growing urge to quit and get the hell out of there!

Poets do not belong in scouts- this is just a fact of life.

You cannot expect an absurd, artistic, and obediency-challenged poet to blend in with the flow of people who all dress and march exactly alike. What is the point of lifting your feet off of the ground at the same tempo as everyone else in the group, when you could concentrate less on your feet and more on your surroundings? A poet is distracted by the chirping of the birds and observes snowflakes gracefully falling to the ground. Just when I have an ideal start to a poem stuck in my head, I am disrupted by drum rolls and

"March! March! MARCH!"

The beautiful songbirds disappear, and I am lost in a haze of loud chants, constantly repeating themselves,

"Left, right, left!"

At the moment in which I feel like yelling, "shut the hell up!" to all those around me, I resist the temptation as I realize that this would be pointless as no one would be able to hear me over those noisy drums.

This is how the poet becomes even more absorbed in her own shell. Socializing in the scout group does more damage to a poet's intrapersonal personality than it does any good. Most poets have strong moral values, and do not wish for their judgement to be ignored or disrupted. The rest have gone out for a drink; what does the poet do? She stays behind, sticking to her own beliefs and is considered a drag. This quickly morphs into the domino effect. A rising number of people steer clear of the poet, as they think of her as a dull knife in the drawer.

Poets possess many good qualities- and one of the greatest of them all is that a poet is not afraid to resist peer pressure. In fact, poets and peers are like oil and water. Peers do not let our values budge a centimeter.

This is good in most cases, but in the scout team, it is a nightmare.

This mostly has to do with the fact that all scouts must wear a tacky uniform, with a tie and all. Everyone knows that navy does not match with jeans, and that grey skirts went out of fashion thirty odd years ago, so why in the world is the uniform designed so hideously?

A resistance to wearing the uniform is treated like a disbelief in God in the scout community.

"You're not wearing your uniform! My goodness, do not dare go out in public like that!"

There is so much more to rant on about, but I will stop there before this turns into some sort of anti-political speech.

In conclusion, to put things bluntly, if you are a poet and wish to be a scout, you are not an oxymoron, my friend.

You are simply a moron.



PS. Badges? What the hell is up with those. Let's all take pride in the pieces of cloth sewn on to our out of style uniforms.

I'm out.

Olga T.

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