[lit-ideas] SUNDAY POEM

  • From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: "LIT-IDEAS" <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • Date: Sun, 8 May 2005 13:47:30 -0500


I have ten pens.
None will write.
Moralists all.

My computer requires no imprimatur.
Sitting here white-screened, not caring 
if I curse or worse.
But, dear friends, like my pens, I'm afraid,
having been waylaid 
by gansta words
more often even than by Kurds
in Cadillacs.  

Rap music embarrasses me.
Even in the Bahamas
I sing Gregorian:
Te Deum laudamus.
while pumping Lydia
praying like a Victorian
I don't get chlamydia.

I really should get a new shirt.
This one sports an ink spot
as large as a coaster. 
I look like the poster boy 
for Luckless Fucks.

Last stanza, this.
That, I've decided.  
For it's a take-charge kind of guy
am I, a self-made man. I'm the one, 
the cause be of me -- Cosby's ire
at poor blacks lit a fire.
"Unless you changed your own diapers,
you're not a self-made man," snipers
Michael Eric Dyson.

OK, so that wasn't the last stanza,
something more, a bonanza!
needs to be said
to all the dead 
self-made men.
This then: 
Sorry, guys, 
turns out 
it was just another bunch of lies.

Mike Geary

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