Untitled

April 24, 2010 at 6:39 pm 2 comments

so much depends on
my having something to say
I have nothing to say
So I say nothing,
see?
How long can I keep it up I wonder
before my readers get bored.
I’m bored.
This is me bored
with my inability to say anything.
It feels like
like
when you’re sitting on the toilet
groaning for dear life
but nothing comes
so you curse the guavas you devoured
pull up your pants
and prance around
uncomfortably
like this poem, which has
somehow
sunk to discussing bowel movements;
honestly, what passes as art these days!
Such a shame.

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Entry filed under: Poetry.

Awakening my skin

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Viny  |  April 24, 2010 at 6:55 pm

    The twist and irony that is enshriend here is well artistically designed, great write.

    regards,
    Viny

    Reply
    • 2. thekeenobserver  |  April 26, 2010 at 2:45 am

      Thanks Viny – always nice to get feedback!

      Reply

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