Wednesday, March 28, 2007

“Until there is a law”

I heard there will be a law
that you cannot read bad poetry
in coffee houses or in bars
or on street corners.
What will I do to wait out
the lonely hours?

I need to read my bad poetry
out loud to you. Even better
if you have no desire to hear it;
better yet if you are a complete
stranger. It is more fun to read
bad poetry if you are not expecting it.

Until they pass a law you will find
me on the street corner screaming
my wretched verse. I will lament my
“bitter tear” I will dwell with "the dark
shadows of the lonely” And until there is
a law there is nothing you can do to stop me.

Unless you have a gun or a chainsaw or a broken
beer Bottle. Hell, even a ballpoint pen would
work if you wanted to me to shut up bad enough.
Just jam in into my throat. Once the blood stops
jutting, my poem will be done.