may 4th, 2011

horseshit

Talking heads on swivel sticks

yammer incessantly

into my bleeding ears

while I stare ahead,

nodding on cue

like those fucking tchotchke desk birds who drink water.

I am a trinket who serves no purpose,

waiting for someone to leave a window open

so I can fly into a nearby propeller.

I haven't been published in almost a year

and tonight I'm reminded of that fact.

I open another beer and write this angry poem

out of frustration,

out of malice towards contemporary literature

and the art I have chosen to pursue.

I love writing,

god I fucking love to write,

but the apologetic "thanks but not thanks" emails

have been laying eggs in my brain for a while now

and I think they're beginning to to hatch.

I hear the first one poking its legs through

like a smoke bomb seeping through a screen door.

I hear another--

and a few more--

and soon a colony has formed

and I'm banging my head against my wooden desk.

"I'll kill you all I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

I scream, waking up my neighbors who shout back,

"We're trying to sleep here, shut the fuck up asshole!"

"Ah, fuck you!" I holler back.

I start bashing my head with a frying pan,

pausing only slightly to finish the beer in hand

and regain sight.

"I'll kill every last one of you eight-legged freaks!"

I'm convinced they're scared,

hell I know they're scared.

Shaking in their tiny fucking boots I bet.

"I won't give up until you surrender

and crawl out of my ear waving tiny white flags!

Fuck your insincerity!

Fuck your half-assed template compliments!

Fuck your desire to print vanilla poetry!

I'll have my way,

one of these days.

I'll have my way and when I do--

I'll tilt my head over the garbage disposal

and shake all you bastards out into hell.

Go ahead and accept bland bullshit,

you're nothing more than colonies of insects."

Did I mention that I haven't been published in almost a year?