Turning Rocks
Probing and pushing, plumbing the depths,
Reaching down into hidden, forbidden filth,
Scraping at the bottom for rancid dregs,
Seeing what lurks in the darkest recesses,
Dragging it from below to self mortification,
Viewing the underside of my own psyche,
And hoping I never stoop so low.
Reaching down into hidden, forbidden filth,
Scraping at the bottom for rancid dregs,
Seeing what lurks in the darkest recesses,
Dragging it from below to self mortification,
Viewing the underside of my own psyche,
And hoping I never stoop so low.
4 comments:
I really like the way you write. Why are people like you on blogger, and not in some library somewhere signing autographs for your latest poetry book?
Simon - Lol, i suppose there is not much difference really, me being so transparent and yet murky of thought.
Sam-girl - Hello :)
I think you'll find that poets and poems are very hard to market, barely financially viable, it's not a medium that sells, if you go into a book shop the poetry section is generally very small, and once you take away the 'classic' poets even smaller.
So, as a crap poet (not that I think of me as a poet) I don't have much of a chance, and I lack drive and ambition in that direction. So, if you really like the pieces, just keep popping back here :) or have a browse of my site, you can pander to my vanity just by letting me know you've read some of them :)
poetry sucks.
at least in the eyes and opinions of the average joe public.
think they prefer mars bars soaked and cooked in chip fat.
CJ - Yup, there's that aspect too.
When I stopped writng just for me, and started blogging etc, I told a few folks at work, and thus have received a certain amount of banter about it all, admittedly not as much piss taking as I thought i'd get, but a little, I should think I'd get a lot more if some of them would actually read some...though, having said that, everyone that has read 'em likes the dead animals...what an odd world we inhabit...
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