A Poet Dreams

It's goodnight from me and it's goodnight from him

Tis a sad  day for poetry,

the day the writing dies,

I sense a malaise,

a maleficent, malignant undertow

washing through words and rainbow dreams,

a thousand poets joined as one,

and still the same s**t, bullshit,

bromide blues, high school 2:02

readers of words without comment

receivers of praise without reviews,

a moral obligation, shat upon,

a friendly welcoming hand shake,

I like your work, please like me too,

give and take and take  and give f**k all,

bored with the unknown unseen battlefields,

It's got f**k all to do with me,

Tis  a sad day for poetry,

the day the writing dies,

The man they couldn't hang

dragged his heels in the sand,

laughed a mirthless laugh,

said; let's try this s**t again,

The End !

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

shallow returns on poems, make for shallow graves for poets to lie in.
when responses have little substance...the words choke on that...how do we know if we ever can get better without finding out what works and what doesn't?

j.

[gram linski]

Exactly j, you think it's a simple piece but the underlying pathos suggests W.T.F.