IN REVERIE

In reverie of poetry, permit me to sayI’ve put up with my fair share of despair and let me downs
 -some hard - some easierIt’s all the same, like disappointment about disparaging remarks about my pink hairHair’s faded from bright red I admitHearing insults from important poets known on the scene about my poetry not being “real” poetry My poetry’s not authentic; it’s eccentricI don’t know how you can get more real than meMy poetry is me and then some moreIt has room for me and you in storeYou find yourselves in here, inside a poemBe careful what you say round meI will quote youin a poemIt’s no good to say I should delayYou say and pray I won’t consider putting your words in a poem even though you know that’s what I doRepeat after me – I forbid you to put this in a poemSo if it’s not goose for the gander stop feeding meGive me some respect for what I doI spill my blood and guts for youI receive letters from people who read what I writeI received one today from a nice girl. She said she’s sorry for my life, she feels so sad for me, she’s just glad she’s not here where I am, she wouldn’t know what to do if she stood here where I stand in my shoes,She doesn’t know anyone who’s had it this badShe just don’t know how I manage to survive a life this sadI told her, "Suicide’s a waste of time,I’d rather spend my energy writing poetry."She said, "You suck at poetry!You can’t write “real” poetry anyway."You think I’m pulling your leg?Then whose leg am I pulling? ~Mine?Damn, if I had my legs pulled a little, maybe this hip pain wouldn’t hurt so badSo I’m an old fool who writes poetry – What did you say you do?