Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

don't want to talk
about
anything
not even make sounds
certainly nothing literary
no doilies or decoy ducks
the stuff in poetry magazines

thought I'd have a legacy
a leg up at least
but
no
will go quietly
because I thought
but I didn't think
they said that
my words were predictable
hiccups after the stuffed-in-the mouth
chocolate
of life

I'm fat on life
but not in an auto-bio-way
and what is undigested
namely politics and religion
grumbles
in the gut
it's not polite

trouble is I whine
I guess
certainly not expressing myself
I have no idiom
but the words
that dance
to use a cliché
with me

even the moans
that you are listening to now
aren't sincere
they are rope
I'm holding on

and so poetry is born
no video
no production numbers

the rope of poetry
weaves its way through our minds
clinging to every notion
weak or strong, simple or complex
words we hear in our heart
we type them because they
need to escape, and once
we let them go they are fair game
for the huntsman or the lover

nice work