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american idol, throw away your sippy cup, and drink from the river

by kitbag

. (Sippy cups are for toddlers, designed to let them sip but a little sip at a time, and when it falls, the disaster is lessened.) totally by accident is this dedicated to TL Sipple, whose introspection offers comfort to more than many. ~~~~~~~~~ *who among us has not begun the journey's poetic, by first examining the mirror that reflects organs internal, flipping the reversible glass over, for all you exposed, it's the curse, the birthing natural,* of the first poem *all your life, streams bustling, streams drying, drought dying, leaves windy flying up, but final poisoned by gravity, come to rest and crunched under your footfalls, but of this did you write, scrivened or scribed? no our first child is of our loins, where real borning does occur. the rest too, but now, and soon thereafter, put aside the me, and write of he and she, the first love, always the second child, for this the nature of the soul and ermine robe, you elected, when you first self-selected* I am a poet, therefore I hit send, *and the diecast, is the first of many hot rods piercing, invading, calling out to you, poet, "set me free, set me free" then when walking in September, the leaves un-glistening, cracking and dirty like an old person who cannot care for them self then you lift your pen, point to the sky or to the earth, no matter which, for both are loco parents in loco, and the truest hardest journey begins, looking outside in, with eyes colored by global truths then and only then the real journey begins, a differing agony to be learned, to see as others see, to write as others have before you and me, and in doing so, this testing travail, will earn you, could earn you, a time grade of pass/fail you are the only judge in this show, the only contestant, what grade will you assign yourself, what standards will you set, until you ask, who are the poets time idolizes?* american idol, throw away your sippy cup, and drink from the river, from the sea, drink deep, until sated, then begin your foolishness readied, all over again poet to please invisible gods, that all can see
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Written by
kitbag
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Written by
kitbag
Published
Feb 17, 2014
Time
3m
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