the failed poet
talks
a good game.
she says
her poems
are only about
positive things…
encouraging people…
uplifting them.
she says
anything else
is a waste
of god’s gift.
personally,
i like my poems
with a bit more grit
and guts.
i tend to
see the dirt
before the sky.
that’s all
well and good…
there’s room enough here
for both of us
to be wrong.
but, the thing that kills me
is that
she refuses
to look at her work
critically.
it came from god…
then it must be perfect,
right?
i hate to tell her
it doesn’t always
work that way.
i
point her out
because i know
she can’t cut it.
and i know
i can.
and that’s just
stupid
and arrogant…
but it’s also
true.
besides,
calling yourself
a poet
won’t necessarily
make you one.
just like
me
calling myself
an ass
doesn’t NOT
make me one,
does it?