Poetry for squares
Decahedronists
Advanced nucleitic
Nautical neopods
Despots,
Fractal living
Geometrical
Alphaphonistical
Ego sucking
Linguists!

Butterflying the words!
Bold words, quick dashes
Pants and poesy
Pants and poesy
Pants and poesy

Poetry for squares
Isn’t any
Good!

Poetry needs balls,
It needs rhythm, it needs
Magnetism!
It should shift you and shape you!

Create an algorithm
That takes you out of your
Daydream nation!
Your washing machine teen dream
Your I fear Satan, and he is a lot scary then you think
Your thurston,
Wanting more, moore, mooore!

What happened to the poets
who spoke with broken beer bottles
who drank and spit, and fucked
a lot?

What happened to boozed and bruised
Faithful to only the pen
No woman, no man could contain

The storm in the bottle!
When did poetry lose its
           Shape?

e.e wrote in lowercase–
Jack never shut up.
Burroughs was a sharpshooter.
Bukowski would punch you for reading this.

Sylvia was beautiful
and Gertrude was beautiful
and flowers are beautiful.

But I always liked Emily,
We would have gotten along really well.
I bet we would have been friends.
I can only imagine
Her, proud that she was published
In some teen-magazine

Pin up for poetry.

I just wish I had guts to
lay it down like she did.
She did not stop for fame
Fame kindly stopped for her.

She was very sad,

She would be still.
But us prescription thinkers
She would find comfort in
Us.

She knows the poets.
She knows the ink in veins
poets.

The scribble minded sonneteers
And the tempered rhythmics.

She would love hip-hop
And she would love rock and roll.
She would play 45s of Bright Eyes
and listen to the sad singers on stage
And find it beautiful I’m sure.

Yeah, she was a thinker.
I wonder what she would think
about you or about me.
about life, or about
this poem.

About fame?
Poetry Inc.
Withdraws. Copyrights.
Rejections. Academics.

Would she be one of those poets?

I would like to think she wouldn’t be.
I like to think she would be more like me,
writing for if she didn’t she’d die.

How many poets today write like that?
Who need poetry like a fuck or a drug.
Not many anymore.

We are a dying breed.

 

Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.