oh, such bogus modesty!
a poseur with self-acclaimed gift
obtained thru watching Dr Zhivago
– now how about that!
or figment of imagination
who could tell from the company he keeps
withal he’s pure fiction
and he says gravely
hearken unto me – I’ll tell you
Secrets of the Universe and
explain how to write great poetry
can’t wait ‘til the knell for that travesty
of pigs-ear misrepresentation
– but Secrets of the Universe?
who’d care about trash poetry
if you’d’ve cashed
in on that...
© 23 September 2008, I. D. Carswell