a non-poem


Why can I not poet?
I simply do not understand et.
Should words weave in and out?
Like a limerick once shout
How can words bespoke
With thought emote?
Do I breathe with space
And openly chase
A sentence onto other
How can it not Rhyme?
Its not right in my head
Its well written yet not read
I don’t geddit
I’ve triedit
And damnit
Still tryingit
What I need is a manual
A disasterous document
A xmas bi-annual
Air removed oxygen it
Like the soft boiled egg, bottle and candle trick.
Words have weight
I get that y’see
I write them all day and they
Very often write me.
I know their power
The control over others
But it matters not one dot
When it takes less than an hour
To spill anything out
And claim from the heart
Brain dribble of words
And lie that its art.
When in reality: empty
Devoid of effort and thought
And everything i’ve never been taught
Its’ nothing
I wanna express with punch, point and value
Be clear, resounding, unique and now you
Know of my effort
I’m immediately judged by
Pass Merit or Distinction I
Care not, I will just write what I will
And you’ll be lucky if I mention
Whats worthwhile
So just read and please listen.
I’m not painting scenes
I’m not wooing hearts
I’m not trying to convince you
That I’m somebody smarter
Than what you’ve seen
A thousand times
Before me.
Its not art, its not a canvas
Of a million brushed lines of
Well written prose
Its just a mid afternoon tea break
Whilst the printer is broke.


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