How Shite Can Poemy Shite Get?

 

Oy, you.

Look at ME.

Look at me,

read me, read me.

Keep reading.

I’m a bad poem.

I’m a really bad poem

about nothing,

fuck all.

 

What did you expect?

We can’t all be Infernos,

Paradisos or Purgatorios

written by genius poets -

some of us were written by dotty twats,

some of us weren’t blessed with nice words

like sin or salvation,

and some of us wouldn’t know the meaning of allegory

if it bit us on the arse

with all the savagery of a starving dog seeking sustenance

because it hasn’t eaten in three days

because it couldn’t move

because a bigger dog mauled its right ear

and tried to chew its legs off.

 

I’m a bad, bad poem.

I don’t rhyme, I don’t scan

and I don’t really want to -

scanning is for cissies.

I’m too shallow for metaphors or similes

but I wouldn’t mind the odd yellow smiley or two

to brighten up my page.

 

 

Keep reading me, reader,

you never know what might happen (nothing)

before The End.

 

That wasn’t The End, by the way.

I’m still here, I’m still going,

on and on -

I can’t finish until I mention

the words SOUL and DEPTHS

and BETWIXT and ‘ERE and

………………………………………….

I forget the others,

I forget my own banalities, my own boringness,

and all the wordy shite I really should learn

if I could be arsed.

But I can’t be arsed, and not being arsed

makes me not only a bad poem

but a bad, LAZY poem,

a bad, lazy poem about nothing,

a bad lazy poem that couldn’t hold a meaning if I had twelve hands to hold it in,

but I don’t have twelve hands

because poems don’t have hands,

we don’t have arms or legs either,

or a head,

or an arse;

we don’t fuck, we don’t breed, we don’t suckle our spawn.

All we can be is what we are.

 

Now is The End.

The End is nigh.

Death beckons and soon I will die.

I did a rhyme

in time.

 

The throes of death fling me here, there and everywhere,

but my formatting is shite so you’ll have to visualise it.

 

Now I’m dead. The End.

 

Oh, wait, hang on,

here’s a nice word with magic powers -

RESURRECTION -

if you’ll come back and read me again.

 

 

 

Posted by Dotty Headbanger on June 20, 2012

http://dottyheadbanger.wordpress.com/2012/06/20/how-shite-can-poemy-shite-get/