I’m a poet, don’t you know it.

Poetry that doesn’t rhyme,
Taps my brain, takes too much time,
To figure out the weird, strange beat,
The double meaning, the awkward mete,
I’d rather just go read some tweets.

~~~

I work too hard, all damn day,
writing code, beyond dismay.
So complex, it sucks me dry,
that in the end, my only cry,
simplicity.

To read warped thoughts, of twisted nuance,
lead me here, or drag me there, once,
I fathom the layered meaning,
I’ll gain the insight, glowing, gleaming, an
atrocity.

Give me simple, give me plain,
feed me pablum, my mind is drained.
Don’t make me work your hidden message,
sad similes and allusions presage a,
monstrosity.


15 responses to “I’m a poet, don’t you know it.

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