My Poetry, My Bullshit

"All your writing about pain and suffering is a bunch of bullshit"~Charles Bukowski

Write about my sorrow,
and screw tomorrow,
for what is tomorrow
but a dream or a wish,
the red cape with God
the Matador.
Write about my feelings
and lose hold of the things
that I am.
For who is me?
Whom am I?
Pour out my soul on paper,
for the heart is just an organ,
the mind just a weight.
We give our souls to God,
our hearts to lovers and
our minds to rulers.
Put my thoughts on paper
and get praise and hear the liars
lie their congratulations.
For liars lie and lovers lay
and elders die.
Spill my tears through ink
to be remembered for years,
and get rich then lose
the riches to my obsessions
and addictions.
Is that what I want?
Is that why I write?
YES!
no.
Express my love in words
for my pretty little dove
and swallow the swords she gives
while in the arms of another.
Enlighten you with my rhymes one
last time, then end it, for poets
get s**t, end up dead and
forgotten.
Eat.  Sleep.  Cry.  Die.  F**k.  Lie.
Pray and worship, pay and lay,
the message from the fey.
Conform with my ideas,
change your mind and have you
gaze through the haze in my mind.
Change you, mold you,
the sick joy of this art called writing.
With these letters I'll keep fighting,
push against my culture, my society,
my heritage, like the pathetic hypocrite
I've become.  And we're all hypocrites,
be us poor or aristocrats,
we never say what we mean.
I'll entertain with my contemplation,
keep you on the edge of your
seat
as my words you will
eat.
For poetry is the easiest
for a carnivore to devour.

Reviews

[He@ther!]

A very stirring, emotive piece for sure:) Well written with excellent imagery!:)