Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

cast your replies upon me
and i shall return poems
ten fold,
to garner even more,
my insecurity demands it
love me, in a variety of ways
hide me, within accolades
even applause would be nice
but never, ever seems enough
i have whore-mongered for art
a tart in poet's garb
a pretender on a bender
drinking it up and spewing it out
like cheap suds on friday night

my words spill out
and sometimes drool
while other times
they are as clueless
as i am in understanding
but who really knows
who amongst us cares
what anyone else's words
do to the reader that takes
the chance and reads the
words in hopes of discovering
a moment of hope or joy
mixed in like arugula in the salad
called by the writer - poetry

why couldn't I have written this?

Damnit! I love it!

ah vanity, thy name is constantine
the roar of the greasepaint and
the smell of your own greatness

dogs work for praise and reinforcement
even rats seek their rewards for a maze well run
ok, let me begin

each of your syllables is like syrup
you are an athlete of words
your wisdom surpasses understanding
fans stand in line to smell your turds

the literary world stands aghast
when the wind of words hits your mast
and fills your sails with self-approval
I share your delusions. did I mention that I love you?