Someone called me a thinking poet
I call me a stinking poet-
Not a poet at all-
A brew stew of mucus
Puke froth substance
Putrid.
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-
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I'm getting old
More stupid
I puke
I keep poopin'
And the age isn't helping
Though I know as
A vet an a ex g.I. Joe
I'm unfolded like a bag of grapes
I've been through rage
Watched costly war tapes
And my mind
Is a plate
Of words
I just spew.
Someone give tape
To this old farmer
And shut my mouth
Before I explode
Like I'm hot
Glue.