creative writing

e.e. sheenings

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Q: What do you get when you mix a celebrity spouting self-truths, the power of social networking, and some people up for a silly little creative writing challenge?

A: Charlie Sheen-inspired poetry, written in the style of e.e. cummings!

So here’s the back story:

Unless you’ve been living under a rock (and even then), you’ve heard about the ongoing implosion of Charlie Sheen. Love him or hate him, his antics and verbose psycho babble ramblings have made for delectable Facebook and water cooler fodder. In one such instance, I decided to post a mash up of my favorite quote as my FB status:

“I have tiger blood and Adonis DNA, motherfuckers.”

From here, numerous friends responded with their favorite Sheenisms, one which included “Can’t is the cancer of happen.” One responder noted that this particular line sounded like it was lifted from an e.e. cummings poem, which I thought was a brilliant and astute observation.

This sparked an idea: What if we wrote our own “Can’t is the cancer of happen” poems, in the style of e. e. cummings? Submitters could either chose to focus their poems on the topic of Sheen and his antics, or completely divert from the subject matter while still using that amazing line.

So far, there have only been 3 brave enough to submit. Read their poems below and, if you’re feeling up for the challenge, submit your sheenings using the comment form below!


Alabama Foghorn: 12/12/1968

Impossible divinely darling Cans
floated from her feet to her waist to her hands
up-conveyed thence from her heart to her brain
chemically untaxed with thought or strain

of the negater of Can: not.
Of a concrete-rough malignant agent
she’s a victim now, without repent,
of the insidious cancer of Can’t.

-g. coursey


i blinked
and cured

because –
radical Gibson/Penn calls
came to
red phone
that lies
on my sunlit ego in the rain

can’t is the cancer
of happen
of the party’s rules
you people don’t know magic

i drink red drinks
you live
with my brain –
not of this earth.
-cj matarazzo


kacey and charlie, brittany and bree
went down to the mansion(for a partying spree)

and kacey discovered how her phone rang
after tweeting and texting and sexing;and

charlie befriended another porn star
whose eyes after freebasing languid were;

and brittany was bashed by a horrible thing
which raced upstairs while blowing more coke;and

bree came home to their king-size bed
as private as a world and as pleasant as dread

for however we unhinge, however we scant
we always must know the cancer of happen is can’t.
-s.w. moreno (based on this cummings’ poem)

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