Monday, February 15, 2016

New and Used Poem



Bad poems are to be
found by the dozens;
nickles and pennies
and pocket lint
and sucker sticks.

Old phone numbers
adorn your wallet
for strippers long
since moved on to
other states and
other shacks
outside LaGrange.

Bad poems talk to
you like old drunks
with barking ashtray
breath,
four days out of
a shave and shower.

You, Mr. Poet,
used to be good at
this,
used to be a meat
shaft,
used to be
somebody's
glorified face-sitting
machine.

Used.

And now you write
Bad Poems
like the Kardashians
make bad TV
programming
look passable.

Here's another for
the pile.

It's nothing
it's poetry
it's not a living
but you make sense
without cents.

Keep trying
because there is
no more due
to pay.



7 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

So we get a little rust on us. Rust can be knocked off, the brass polished up.

eric1313 said...

Yes. I was feeling a lot of funk lately. Writing in new directions latey, but not satisfactorily. This is OK, but its a step, like all poems are steps, toward where we are going.

Shimmerrings said...

Yep... I like it... and sometimes we sew and reap more thorns and thistle than violets and daffodils...but even I like thistle and the wild things, which contain their own special beauty... pick a few along the way...and love them for what they are...

Cloudia said...

Part of the life

eric1313 said...

But a small part of life. Very small. I owe myself better.

Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

"Bad poems talk to
you like old drunks
with their ashtray
breath,
four days out of
a shave and shower."

Love it.

eric1313 said...

Thanks... Reminds me of one subtle change I want to make...

Barking ashtray breath.