John Donne, the famed metaphysicist, is the only non-modernist poet ever to be universally disliked. Born in 1532, his mother abandoned him at the age of seven after, wishing to compare his love to her to something that would cause him considerable discomfort unless expelled from him, he called her a "piece of shit". He was expelled from eight colleges, yet still somehow managed to get into Oxbridge, where he spent three years only to fail to graduate when everybody changed their faith on the same day except him. Degreeless, he took on a job as a ratcatcher, only to solemnly declare that no man was an island and find himself instantly sued by the Landmass Recognition Accociation. Penniless and alone, he adopted the school of thought that to become happy he merely needed to praise the women he desired in a series of epic poems, consequently describing them as "a flea", "a raspberry", "the phlegm on a baby's nose", and "that thing I can't quite remember that's really sexy, but not in a slutty way", a compilation eventually known to us as The Virgin Suicides. At the age of 22 he used all his savings to hook up with a prostitute, and because of lack of experience ended up getting her pregnant. She unwillingly had the child, John Doe, who grew up in embarrassment and denial. The child never admitted his true identity in public.
John died at 26 when he declared Death not to be proud, only to quickly discover that there are some people it's probably best not to tick off, particularly when they're metaphorical and scythe-wielding. He went to hell after God read the things he'd been writing about him, and filed for sexual assault. While in hell he met Tchaikovsky, who he pissed off redundantly.
Did you know that: