Disgruntled Are the Once Gruntled Poets
The Gods created music
so poets would not have to talk.
The dramatic or moody warblers
stood forth.
Now we had a sing-song mouth
for the scribes.
You’d think that both singers and writers
would be content to plaster the page and air
with these heaven-sent arts,
but
no,
poets sulked, grew sullen
their egos swollen to an eighth degree.
None could not be silent,
And so they invented ‘slam’ and ‘jam’
and every which way
to yells at us -
as if anyone gave a damn.
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