“The badder the better. It might be so bad it’s good.”
—Adrienne Raphel, The Badder The Better, in The Book of Alchemy: A Creative Practice for an Inspired Life 216 (Suleika Jaouad ed., 2025)
“If I allow my boundaries to be violated repeatedly, I am a volunteer rather than a victim.”
—Anonymous, in Hope for Today 311 (2002)
As I shared elsewhere, I am on a journaling journey that I started this past summer. This post is part of a Book of Alchemy series in which I share some of my responses.
I was so tickled by this one, and I really couldn’t wait.
The Daily Prompt
The prompt was to write a “bad poem.” Raphel gave examples of what could be construed as a bad poem and clarified that “bad” could mean many things.
As you may recall, poetry is not my forte, so I’m not surprised my first reaction was one of fear that I wouldn’t complete the task. Then I remembered it didn’t have to be perfect or even good.
I turned to the dictionary first—thanks, Mom!
After reading the definition, I thought it might be better to postpone writing until after my shower. As is the way, a flurry of ideas came to me, some of which I could no longer remember after I managed pull on my robe—a souvenir from the Red Clover Ranch (a story for another day)—and scuttle over to my journal.
Nevertheless, I am happy with the result.
A Quick Note
This is not autobiographical in the sense that I have never (thank God!) had a paramour sell my organs online, but it does speak to a time in my life when I offered myself as a sacrifice before the altar of “love.”
Thankfully, I’m still here to have a good laugh about it.
A Bad Romance or To All the Boys I’ve Ever Loved
Bad romance is what I desire,
A real love to leave me full of despair and ire.
Do your worst—and don’t worry about me (in fact, I’m not counting on it!)—I’ll be fine.
Pet me, pee on me, or extract my
Ovaries, full of microscopic eggs, to sell online.
Either way, every step you take will be my obsession,
My abusive, adultery-loving valentine.
(Sept. 14, 2026)
