Very Bad Archive
Juan Ate Tea
Good Poet
I lie upon your bedroom door
Sheathed within an ebony tomb.
My waist nestles lethargically against
The trio of barbs I have become accustomed to.
I am mixed-race, though mostly black.
My face bears wounds still fresh
Upon my birthmarks, scarlet in hue.
Myrtle are the corresponding dimples.
Occasionally you grab the barbs
In a desperate, often drunken effort
To prove yourself. To prove that my
Inhabitancy is worthwhile. But each time you
Aim for my weak spots, you end up
Savaging another part of me. Occasionally,
Perhaps out of pity, you miss your mark
Entirely, and penetrate the wood.
Good Poet has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 16/10/09. Read more of Good's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Good's latest works: