Rejected
REJECTED
For the Slam Contest
I wish I could say
I‘ve been published for pay
But, not a penny's been placed in my hand
This poet remains a pauper
Estrange from the Promised Land
What was once out of reach?
For those of plain speech
To poor to own paper or quill
Without education and documentation
Their poems were regarded as swill
Today nothings changed
Except for the names
Of the poets of proper learning
And they write in a rash, of babbling trash
Only fit for the fire that’s burning
You might think their duration
With high education
Would help them to understand
One needs not much, to stay in touch
With the likes of the common man
So without PhDs
I’m unable to please
The ruck of the publishing Mecca
And I soon realized there‘s no Pulitzer Prize
For an author that’s writes a vendetta
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
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