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Poem

Thanks for destroying poetry
It was fun while it lasted
Your constant whining, relentless plea
You poets are all alike, filled with hatred
Mad at the world, denouncing lost loves
Heart breaking? Release the white doves
Let me play the violin so you may win an Oscar
For making me cry as I read your disaster
Let me guess, your lost love got married?
Spar with yourself and write it in your deed
“I will not write about the same old creed”
But thanks again for destroying poetry
Seems like you know how to relive history
Here’s a tissue box so you can cry at something
It’s filled with lotion so your little ego won’t sting
Do us a favor and write about the world
Live in someone else’s shoes and not your own
You might find that the picture you are painting
Can be seen by more and not those with hatred
Silly poets, words are for artists
Like that little rabbit you won’t get your feet wet
So run in circles until you get your dictionary
Look up idiosyncrasy and see what it means, really
And when you have wasted your time
Looking up the meaning for most people rhymes
You may then get the feeling
Of what it feels like to sit through your readings
Silly poets, even if you do hate me
I don’t really care because you know I speak the truth you see
One day when you have decided to grow big and tall
You will preach the same to the ones who wish your work to fall
Sesame Street makes more sense than you 
Ask Big Bird for a feather to write down a clue
And while your at it ask him what rhymes with “Roses are Blue”
Silly Poets

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