Yep, all work and no play makes bigfatrobot a dull blog. So, as a remedy, of sorts, it's angsty poetry time ...
What can I call my poem?
My poorly stitched slacks
Now lie on the ground
Torn and legless
My slovenly manufactured shirt
Has fallen off me
Like a cheap male stripper’s faux Navy uniform
I am not cursed with good looks
I am blessed with ugliness
Which provides a good mask for my inner dullness
I am on the dole
That is why I cannot afford a good Chardonnay
I’m hungry
I ate my poem
But I’m still hugry
This poem will not satisfy my stomach’s needs
Because it is cooked on cheap paper and sautéed with cheap ink
They say cigarettes quench hunger
But I have eaten ten of them now
And I’m still hungry
What can I call my poem?
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3 comments:
I think merely I ate my poem... would be a good name. Links in near the end of the poem, is nice and abstract and sounds neat, doesn't give the ending away.
(NB. I also think the "My shoes are too tight, and I have forgotten how to dance" quote from B5 is a good one. Don't trust me :)
This is my poem for you.
Mighty Mikey
Always manly
If I say he's cuddly
He'd get angry
I'm from the country of Haiku, so it's very short poem.
Nice idea Rob - will contemplate the title when my Complete Works are published in the year two thousand and never:)
Thanks Junko:) That's a haiku worthy of Masaoka Shiki! Hope everything is ace is Nippon x
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