~for mark john junior~
the spigot turns counterclockwise,
oft I wondered why,
is it the magic way to make
things rise...
'pon occasion, the water shuts off,
turn left to right or vice versa,
no juice no bath and life starts
to stink, especially under armpits
and you think
how many love poems does one soul
in his lifetime possess,
and can I do better than my last...
if at all
sometimes you stare at a blankenship
ocean adrift, pirate hijacking victim,
no grub, no paddle or map,
but an empty water bottle
baffled you ask it
to point north,
laughs at you, asking,
"am I a compass,
or you,
a complete ***,"
a seismic groan out loud,
registers on
Florida's hurricane wind watch
how come this to be
meteoric loss of metaphor bridging,
search the Internet for the ******
of poetic inspiration, and an
error message delivered:
"plagiarize, or better luck next time sucker"
patience, football, thy women,
will in time realize the artful truth realized:
"Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes; art is knowing which ones to keep"
Scott Adams (creator of Dilbert)
so
go forth,
make mistakes plenty,
keep some good,
the pink ones fyi, my fav,
look that quill in the face,
and give the lazy ******* some lip,
reminding it,
it gets paid and ink drinks,
by the word