Darren Mallett Poet Iambic Pentameter

Yet Untitled

This poem is a mental note to myself about something that happened a few weeks ago. I was attacked at night by two unknown guys and woke up in a hospital bed a day later. The guys jumped me for no reason; they took no money, no belongings only my hat. It was simply sport to them. If you read this and are offended by the content, I apologize; we all have our outlets and means to keep us calm. 

------------------- Darren

Pity the pathetic, pretentious Lout. 
Uncouthed by the hands and flesh that clothed him, 
Failed by the cold sweat and semen sacrificed 
To breathe life into such a low, Coward. 
How far does the Cretin's small mind expand? 
Surely he cannot see the same colours 
The sunset always casts upon my eyes? 
How could he know any pleasure at all 
Whilst still being cold, calculated, closed? 
He cannot smell life from a woman's flesh, 
Put soft, spring flowers in her silken hair, 
Or feel the fires of Summer in her eyes. 
He cannot appreciate the green grass, 
For its shade is brighter than his future. 
Pity the pathetic, pretentious Lout, 
Greedy, careless in pursuit of prestige. 
Respect comes to those who give respect, 
Happiness to those who spread happiness, 
Pain thrice-fold to those who spread it at all. 
Pity the pathetic, pretentious Lout, 
Who's knowledge sees no more than virgin red. 
Red, your favourite jeans, a dark ruby; 
Darkening with every stomp of your face, 
Soaking the wet, blood-red, hatred seeping, 
From the foot of a man unknown to love. 
Pity the pathetic, pretentious Lout, 
Who's only mark on this beautiful world, 
Is surely written on his mother's face; 
Disappointment, anger, revolt; disgust.

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Darren Mallett December 2, 2015 at 8:22 PM I appreciate the input! The 9 syllables is indeed intentional though, it's an abrupt line, meant to break the regular flow of the poem. My intention was that the reader reads the poem in their regular voice, but this line in particular should almost be spat out. Thanks for the close reading though!

November 22, 2015 at 11:51 PM I think this is a great poem, and I sympathize with you on this, as my father had went through this, but instead of his hat, they stole his shoes. However,"Respect comes to those who give respect" is only nine syllables, so I'm not sure if you can change that, but I'm just putting out my thoughts. :) Have a nice day! Darren Mallett December 2, 2015 at 8:23 PM I appreciate the input! The 9 syllables is indeed intentional though, it's an abrupt line, meant to break the regular flow of the poem. My intention was that the reader reads the poem in their regular voice, but this line in particular should almost be spat out. Thanks for the close reading though!