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Antiepithalamia: & Other Poems of Regret & Resentment

4.43  ·  Rating details ·  30 ratings  ·  4 reviews
Antiepithalamia: & Other Poems of Regret and Resentment is John Tottenham’s second book of poetry, a sequence of mean-spirited love poems, paying particular respect to the institution of marriage, and a meditation on the subjects of regret and resentment.

Morbid, bitter, self-pitying… perhaps, but offered in the spirit of giving as a tonic to those who are not blissful
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Paperback, 108 pages
Published October 23rd 2012 by Penny-Ante Editions
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4.43  · 
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Tosh
Oct 17, 2012 rated it really liked it
Marriage is not a splendid form of love for poet John Tottenham. It is sort of a combination of hell and a bad night out. Or maybe the one and the other are the same. Nevertheless "Antiepithalamia" is a collection of bite sized poems that gives the reader a very humorous ride into the outskirts of an imagined state of mind where the need is too much of a bother. The flip side of Pablo Neruda's love poetry, Tottenham serves as the dark prince or adviser to those who find the taste of love... a sl ...more
Kai Szulborski
Apr 22, 2015 rated it it was amazing
This man is the king of being bitter. I thought I was the king but I'm just the stable boy of being bitter. I'm the pigs in the stable of being bitter. John Tottenham rules the land of Frustrationvania with an iron frowning crown. He resents everyone and everything. I only resent some of the people I know! I must find him and become his apprentice.
Rand
May 16, 2014 added it
Recommends it for: escape artists
Recommended to Rand by: me
Twelve steps to lol,
13 floors to gag lolly
twelve steps to pop back
pop out pop up poop
13 ways to live for never
Twelve steps to recur the cur
a gain is less than more
13 steps to be a preposition
Twelve is 13 was 31 was 21
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John Tottenham reading at Odd Fellows Hall in San Francisco (Feb 2013)
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“SONG OF DAWN

I saw the sun rise by accident.
It was a horrible sight.
Annoyed by its splendor, I sought refuge
in a moist pillow, and lay there, alone,
at the dawn of another day,
that brought me closer to another death,
pondering the vanity of my solitude,
the vanity of procrastination,
and the tiresome inevitability of waking up
again the same person.
It might still be possible to change,
but obstinately I remain the same,
hoping that others might take solace
in my consistency.
But perhaps they take no solace in it,
perhaps they too find it tedious.”
5 likes
“Whenever I’m in a relationship I feel as if I’m being unfaithful to myself.” 3 likes
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