Sorry if my lines don’t fly They rarely do Some get a little air Then topple awkwardly to the pavement You shouldn’t take that as I don’t care Now if I could just speak What I construct and put to paper I could fold it, making a little plane Gently glide it through the air Landing it upon your palm Wouldn’t we have something beautiful there? Most women, at first Fear a written profession of love They want to hear it Loud and Clear But I am a man of few words And even fewer women
Next time we meet I’m going to take all your abdegopq’s And I am going to color them in with gentle tension I will do my best To hide what I am doing Speak softly and say hello And when we are finished With all the necessary pleasantries Your flushed face Will be stained With squid-like ink.
That place I go
It’s true I don’t want to lie to you I hide in my writing It’s easier that way This smooth pen feels Immaculate resting between my fingers It’s just my opinion That words should be pondered Well-thought-out Given the pleasure Of revealing themselves On nice paper From a gently flowing pen
Respect the pen
There is no longer Any room In woman’s heart For a poet Look at what we have Been reduced to A shitty website Where you’re lucky to get 12 views and 2 likes KINGS used to fear A poet’s defaming word Then a poet’s tongue could crumble kingdoms Now I am lucky if I Can pry their eyes from the Jersey Shore Long enough To hear “Oh, that was cute.” I am sorry to say We live in a world today Where we reward stupidity The people our children look up to Are literally jackasses And disease spreading whoremongers If my pen were a .357 magnum I’d write them all into a shallow grave Then light them on fire At least then We might once again Fear the poet