Disillusioned, is the word I use
To show you what I know,
When ponderous poets empathize
With undeserved word flow.

Analysis of purpose made
Dissection of the theme,
This superficial commentary
To hints of depth... Unseen.

The need to  taste a stanza's flavour
To roll it on the tongue,
Like merlot spilt on burning stone
In searing midday sun.

Tossed banalities for empty lines,
Back scratching for the crew
Who choose to curry favour
With the elevated few.

Bring forth the real word smith, I say,
Release the razor's knife,
Carve substance to selection's choice
And breathe this site some life.

Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
12 December 2009