The Serious Poet
She told me, “I am serious poet”.
Then took another picture for her Instagram.
Apparently the world needed to know what she was having for lunch.
She was very hip to talk about her importance and to take another half dressed bathroom selfie.
She sat next to me and I never noticed when she at last vanished into the crowd.
I never knew her words.
And I assume the rest of the world wouldn’t recall them either.
I cut jokes wrote about the perverts and weirdos that surrounded me.
And sometimes I wrote about other people too.
I didn’t have a Instagram.
I guess I wasn’t a serious poet.
I lost no sleep that night.
And the following night either.
The woman I spoke of gained fifty followers for showing her ass.
The world was filled with idiots ever to eager to feed the delusional fools ego.
I didn’t reach for my cell to capture life’s every moment.
I preferred to reach for a beer instead.
Yeah, have seen a few like that floating around. And reaches for a beer or something.
I love it, Brother John, so damn true! The real poets like us get tossed to the wayside when it comes to people like this. That’s what happens in a society where we’ve become accustomed to making stupid people famous. What really gets me is that we poets used to be held in the highest standards of society. Philosophical teachers that everyone looked up to. Now any joe blow or jeny ho can get on the interwebs and do something ridiculous or show a little skin and become a world-wide phenomenon, and it sucks. Outstanding poetry, my friend.
Cheers, brother,
JDCIV
poets work so hard to live in a cul de sac…..thanks