A Loath Poem

I hate love poems.
Or maybe loath.
Loath, is right.
That sort of feeling
That disdain and disgust
That can only be described by
Loathing.

Poems pointed at the
Hearts of lovers and the
Lonely.
To easy.
Much much to easy,
Yet, so very popular, so muchly…
Loved.

Praised for being
Just what they are.
Praise for nothing,
Rather than for something,
Anything, anything at all.
None recognized for
Being good,
Or bad,
Or anything other than…
Lovely love.

To easy.
Much to easy.
Love poems are little
More than wasted words
And hardly art.

I hate, no.
No no.
Loath, love poems.