Poetry is for Suckers

Whoever invented poetry
is a horrible, lowdown,
dirty son of a bitch.
I took classes to learn
how to write it well,
then I spent years
reading the work of others
to improve my own style,
and then I attended
my first poetry reading,
where I stood in front,
pissing my pants as
I read my best poem aloud,
spitting out the lines
so fast that not a single
person in the audience
could understand a word
that I was saying.

Burn in hell,
sadistic creator of poetry.
For the times the jocks-
the big kids in school-
called me a sissy.
For the time the girl
of my dreams read my poem
and called me a pussy.
For the hundred times
every single damn year
when I get rejected
by poetry magazines.
And for the many times
when I slave all night
on what I think
is my best poem ever,
only to wake up the next morning,
read it to myself again,
and realize that it's
just a big piece of crap.

I wish you were alive,
inventor of poetry,
so that I could have
the simple, wonderful joy
of killing you myself.
And if I should someday die
and join you wherever you are,
be ready to run like hell.

all works on this page Copyright 2002 by Paul Ryan

.