2 mins read

I Can’t Poem In Sometime.

No self respecting poem wants to hang with me. As I’m apt to slap that poesy into the ether too early, still gasping, and all agog at anxious afterthought alterations. A bespoke joke birthing an interior punch-line rhyme, way before delivery time. Because juncture is the jive. That toot sweet hive be honey. Muse money. Currency.


And now for something past.

Propaganda Pageant

As the Minister of Misinformation
I will crown a “Miss Misinformation”
after I lay and lie with most of
the contestants under-
consideration to be considered
“Miss Misinformation”
and select a new
“Miss Misinformation”
daily if I come to
understand that
I have been previously
so misinformed.

Recently I read Ben Lerner’s, The Hatred Of Poetry. I enjoyed it. He suggested that many find poetry more to their liking when formatted horizontally and with slashes. (I sure there is a technical name for this technique, but I can’t recall it.)

Anyway, I agreed with his observation but admit it’s a tricky proposition.

Propaganda Pageant

As the Minister of Misinformation/ I will crown a “Miss Misinformation”/ after I lay and lie/ with most of the contestants under-consideration/ to be considered “Miss Misinformation”/and select a new “Miss Misinformation” daily/ if I come to understand/ that I have been previously/ so misinformed.

And by the by, I’m re-reading Lewis’s The Big Short, after re-watching Margot Robbie in the movie adaptation, bubble bathing an explanation concerning the in’s and out’s of Credit Default Swaps, or was it CDO’s, I was a bit distracted.

But that’s not the point of this post either.

The point is a paraphrase of a quote on a black blank screen that starts the film. It was overheard in a bar in Washington D.C.

“Truth is like poetry and the American people hate f*cking poetry.”




r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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