Too Many Words...

This blog post was misinterpreted as an attack on poets and poetry. that is not what was intended. Its an attack on bad poetry and poets.Poetry to Sing to your soul

Holy m*ther of shit! I have the most excellent news to impart to you all! I was sifting through some of my old writings and found stacks of dark poetry I wrote when I was in my early twenties. Looking back its tough to believe I was ever so deep and insightful. This one here was a standout, titled; "Untitled with Wings"

The black rays of the sun penetrate my hollow soul,
I'm always banging the square peg into the round hole.
But not in a sexual way- don't misinterpret that thought,
Stifle your giggles and try to focus on: my life, my pain and loss.
I ever feel that life has been cruel and bitterly terse,
And the only way to expose my pain is of course through rhyming verse.
No one sees my hear beating faintly behind my skins,
Except for maybe Superman or x-ray technicians.
There is a shining darkness living deep inside of me,
How else could it be that I close my eyes and its only black I see?
I know that I am crying but you cannot see my tears,I
know that I've been drinking but you cannot see the beers.
I left them in the restaurant empty like the chair,
Empty like the tables and emptier like the stairs.
And when I call them empty you know that they were full,
And in their fullness: emptiness-and of this they were full.
No one understands my goodness- or ever will I fear
I've scowled and pouted and brooded alone- how could I be more clear?
My pen now is a conduit to the poem on this flickering computer screen,
I thought it best to there identify this as poetry, not like other crap you've seen.
My humanity takes solace, though now cowering in a corner of my bones,
That I can still write so brilliantly although I am alone.

Its hard to believe that I have over four (five!) little notebooks full of this gold (obdisan?). Some of them even have little tribal/celtic line doodles in the margins, which is clinically proven to add 36% more gravitas to a poem. Now I'd love to post them all here in my blog so it could somehow (but inevitably) enrich all of your lives, but my publisher has advised me not to. Or most assuredly will once I find one. So this one poem will have to be my one priceless gift to you all for now. My only hope is that you can all find a good enough tattoo artist and enough free personal canvas to keep this with you forever.