To A Very Small Minority Of Po-thetics Who Postulate.

To a very small minority of po-thetics who postulate.!!

I have no use for pompous pilferers
boasting of their prowess under
the title "poet" when they blabber about
God-like skills that exceed all others
they are simply butt heads looking for a hat
to cover the huge crack in their theories
with a vanity published book under their belt
they are the leaders in waste lines
they rest on their laurels condemning
all who write below their standards
much like the Standard urinals that we piss into
every thing flushed from their soul is indifferent
they are yellow journalist of the most bitter dregs
forced rhyme is like forced sex to them
it's o.k. as long as they get their tiny point in
they use other's weaknesses
to make themselves appear bigger
each is a true Judas of the literary world
claiming many pieces of tarnished brilliance
most die unwanted and alone
hung up on themselves in a poet-tree
they betray the goodness of what's write
they are easy to spot, their comments are
cons descending, that harp and mock
they ridicule and boast, and exploit
using four letter words like condoms
to cover anything more creative that might
actually be of some benefit to others
but rest assured they are not what they seem
legends in their own mind they rant on
amidst the masses who discount their pulp
ignorance of them is bliss
some post photos of themselves
then change the picture that disturbs them
because they are unable to change themselves
their comments are the Drano that flushes
much of their insecurity from their bowels
they are made whole by expelling crap on others
but poetry is an expression of the soul
not the aggression of an as-soul
so if your work is slandered by
a maggot pretending to fly
by winging garbage
in the pretense of critique
let it feast for
it is just an inflated ego
leaking self praise and eventually shrinking
to a mere comma in others lives
a brief pause that meant nothing
remember even those who
think themselves beautiful
and scorn others to appear better
touting their looks and
their glory and their conquests
eventually wind up alone and wrinkled
with faces resembling a sac
that looks much like a scrotum
but emptier, and infertile
producing little that creates
anything more then a grunt.

~~~~~MFB III