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“Great Pretender”
Your lines, they got no steam.
They reside in low places.
Waiting for credit they didn’t earn.
There’s no life in them.
They can’t compete.
Floating flaccid and flavorless.
Chewed out gum,
stuck to the bottom of a gnarly Chuck Taylor smelling of burnt tungsten and dried oregano.
Pretension worries but doesn’t sweat.
Poems need sweat.
It’s as if you lived and learned nothing.
No passion.
No life.
A litany of envy, thick.
A paucity of hope that you could do well if given a chance.
But the thing is, though,
you were given many chances.
You chose to say you were something, rather than work at being it.
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4 responses to ““Great Pretender””
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I’m so vain, I probably think this poem is about me.
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Definitely might be about y…naw still more m…naw, it’s about the others out there; cold fronting and perpetrating
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I just wrote a poem. It has sweat in it.
“Poems need sweat.”
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Perspiration beats inspiration every time.
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Hello,
I’m Christopher Paul Hickey
Welcome to ProCrassTheNation.com! This is the commonplace where you will find my writing, my poetry, my thoughts, and all the things that swirl around my creative sphere. I invite you to peruse the site to your heart’s content. I promise there is a bit of something here for everyone. I appreciate your time and look forward to your repeated visits where you will always find something new.
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