Time for a poem. This’ll be an epic one for sure, the poem to end all poems..a poet’s Waterloo! gotta muster the troop’s, A-Z, on the typewriter-keys. Will our side win? we see’s! maybe it’s another..make a big mess; just like ‘all the rest’ (cetera). Should I..wait for inspiration?? or strike now! Science does not wait, i t makes its budget proposals and away we go! to the moon. Earth’s moon? no! not good enough it has to cost more so they gotta go find a moon somebody/nobody knew about, look at it..a minute, and yell (in the ‘news’), “HEY, LOOKY! NEW MOON..DUDE!!” Trust science, –NO! TRUST POETS (dude). Poets are different from scientists in that we don’t want your money just your time..all of it! and as much ink as we can lay waste to, by the 55 gal. drum, pounding away at our tin soldiers, –SYMBOL’s, a through z, “Klak, ka-Klak..Klikety-Klak!” hurting innocent, white, blankety-blank blank pages, abused, wadded-up on the floor..wrong place and the wrong poet wasting time..everybody’s! a battleground, sore, of stuff the chinese invented; bloody hands rolling them up into the typewriter-roller-carriage-thing-ee..collateral damages, dogs’s of schwarz, –z-z-z: “Here I sit, broken-hearted, –“; yeah! A through Z, er, um, a-2-z, TWO-ZEE’S, THREE-ZEE’S (i HEART apostrophe’s); plus draft some of them other characters, too, at the, at the sroke of a key! (sic) @#$%^&*()_, plus “+”, etc., –issue ’em uni-form’s, there! you’re in, in the poet-army now! now we’re onna roll, to the front, young poet, you go! total poetry, Russian front, Russian font!! When you gotta go, ya gotta go..Eh? shmo?? OY! So..fight my poem agaisnt your poem? I’ll fight your poem standin’ on one foot, fight it with twenny assonance’s tied behind my back; and we’ll see, see whose poem’s better, badder..wroser, –See See Writer, bad to Frost! Jack, Robert..find a meter I double-dare ya; maybe, together, we can start World War Three? Hey! look at all da snow..gee! nothing ventured, nothing goofed-up, right? global warming?? paper holocaust’s. 8.5×11″‘s, all gone to heaven. 0uttasight..g’night! Z-z-z-z-zzzz. Z-z-z-z-z-z-z (et cetera*)

~c.

*That’s Latin, you know, –Ope’s! open that can o’ worms. It’s all Greek’s..’n’ Sikh’s, see? Hyde and sikhs, your Sikhism’s showing. I give up. Unconditionally!! Peace (brother).

Published by scrunchymacscruff

Thank you

Leave a comment

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started