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 thoughts on “I’m a poet, don’t you know it.

        1. Straightforward? You think? True to life perhaps. My sense is that it’s rather like chess, holding a sequence of philosophical thoughts, building and building, to a final potential conclusion. Ow! Just contemplating it pains my hippocampus.
          And entire free-form poem may embody a dozen nuanced emotive notions, and not complete until the final line. Exhausting.

          Liked by 1 person

  1. philh52.wordpress.com/2017/05/18/wordpress-and-the-poetry-tag/

    You managed to hit almost all the pre-reqs for WP poetry. The rhyming was a bit old school. The message wasn’t nearly obfuscated enough, however the tinge of depression it sucks to be me was a nice touch, and not drawn with too broad a stroke, something rare. There’s a longer running joke about this sort of thing, but I hear you, crying out in the desert. (sound of bongos –>) Not for me your cheese whiz world, your shrink wrapped vanities and inanities how much were the shoes you wore posing as if to hug a tree? Not for me I wander free of the Left Guard and the Right Guard I stink therefore I am!

    Liked by 2 people

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