Invoking the Spirit

Poetry is dead so I'm invoking the spirit

Systemically fearless written to smear it

Lines satiric like pirates I commandeer it

No ticket no inherent permission, I'm illicit

And I know that you hear it, sometimes systemically fear it

Adherents to appearance prohibit things not inherent

To "high spirits", concepts incoherent like a parrot

A gimmick stamping morality tickets for bigots

Sometimes I can't tell if I'm a critic or cricket

Or just the nearest pirate breaking the weak on their demerits

The cowardly words, those lyrics spit from cowardly spigots

I know you're there..... I won't write without yous

You've been invoking my spirits

And they have nothing to lose

Reviews

[KTizzle]

"Poetry is dead so im invoking the spirit" I do not think poetry is dead. More like buried underneath some that might be. There is great talent on here. One has to be it and find it.

You really called some people out in the third stanza. I really did love the last line of it where it says, "sometimes I can't tell if I'm a critic or cricket." Sometimes we can't tell if we're being original or blending in with what others say.

I especially love the last line because it's so final and ends powerfully.

Lovely write again. Thanks for your friendship. I would never had looked at your poetry unless we were so.

Thanks for posting!

[Writing Angel]

i like it..honestly as you say that poems are "The cowardly words, those lyrics spit from cowardly spigots"
as every poem interest within different readers as i must say the only other thing i like is you are not plastic. take that as you may as neither am i

[Davidgeo]

Baby doll we are flesh. Not one of us is plastic. We don't rebound we readjust, intelligently.... with an infinite amount of variables. The people you see as plastic are just well guarded. Or well adjusted.... choose your own adventure.

[Davidgeo]

with your flesh

[thecavaliar]

' no one here a poet. Not really.' True from what I've read so far, then again, I've only read your vituperative (look it up dummy,) scribblings.

You ought to take a peek in the mirror occasionally.

[Davidgeo]

How in the f**k do you think I can see the herpes growing on my a*****e? That takes some serious mirror work bro/sis... you should know, you're from macedonia

[Davidgeo]

just in case you're still confused... I do a lot of cuckolding mirror work.... b***h.

[Davidgeo]

Vituperative.... "bitter and abusive"////// Hell, f**k, AND yes... I had to look that s**t up.... Awesome word brother face... Apt and, well, it's just apt.

[Elise Anton]

Poetry is not so much 'dead' as 'adjusted'... Anything thus adjusted does not 'one size fits all' contain. Adjust enough to appease everyone and you are left with one question. Repeated ad infinitum : Am I a poet and I didn't know it?

Great words. A reminder...

[Davidgeo]

No... no one here a poet. Not really.

I know it's not dead a*****e, it's a little creative hyperbole.

Social media creative writing sites are designed for people who want the appearance of being writer..... they come here and purposely avoid the things that develop creative self awareness. These people are zombie writers... they have no spirit.

[Elise Anton]

Clever comeback. I could have almost written the second line myself lol. Or maybe I did write it. Hmmm

Do not give too broad a sweep friend... there are those still interested in pursuing creative self awareness here. They just get lost amid all the noise...

[Davidgeo]

I've read a whole lot of folks on this site... even the ones who block me, gotta log off to do it but it's something I still do. Honestly, no bullshit --- 9/10 is either contrived pop culture or counter culture emo s**t or just f*****g awful writing. I'm an average writer, not even really a writer at all I guess, but I look like a good one here... that should tell you something. Being the most attractive waitress at a truck stop Denny's don't mean s**t. This place is a Denny's....

[Davidgeo]

...........

[Davidgeo]

How's your cat face? How's your pirate ship?

[Elise Anton]

Where's my bluebird?