That Feeling

Here comes that feeling again
This time while listening to poets on Youtube
Their names are not important
Only that feeling
Of endless (envious) enormity
I have a stream of conscious too you know
So I’ll Imitate the mad ramblings of Steven Jesse Bernstein
And pretend that somebody gives a shit
That somebody will buy this and read it to their children
Throw out their TVs
And write some words of their own
So that somebody will give a…
Shit
Poetry is shit
We wipe our asses with prose and demand short stories
Novels and things we can understand
So I’ll write a novel and maybe someone will find it
As they walk through my grocery store
And pick up the latest hard backed shit
By
Their names are not important
The feeling one of hopelessness
My shit next to their shit
Dream of my heroes
Whose shit don’t stink
But could if given somebody else’s nose
Oprah won’t touch it
And so a nation turns its nose up
The ass of every figure on a magazine
Performer on a stage
Spokesman on the radio
Picture in the paper
Am I getting through to you?
Or are you tuning me out?
Because this feeling doesn’t come with an inspirational tag
What I’m trying to say is that as I listen to the words of those renowned
Those with talent
And those we care to share
I imagine a flaming pile of shit
And here I am fueling the heap

05-24-09