Very Bad Poetry

Facade of bourgeois cliches.
As Bobby analyzed her.
Mind you my diagnosis still provisional.
Like emperor Caligila, dementia praecox.
To be nice,'premature madness.'
To not be, just plain schizophrenia.

While it's only natural that any sensitive being.
Take refuge in a flight from reality.
In your case an indentity,
Of your own happy creation.
Now where does that put you?
Usually that determination is a function.
Of the time one spends in fantasy.
A pleasant fantasy before you sleep.
Considered normal.
But your aberrational need to remain.
Twenty four hours a day.
Considered insanity.

The crux of your fantasy.
You have fashioned a world,
Of gossamer poetry.
And you've become emeshed.
And really think your the prominent,
Yet to be found poet.
Thank your maker for coincidences.
With out them,
Poets would have to fall back,
On imagination.
And that heaven forbid.

But you manage the wisdom,
About this, shall we say,
Persistent hallucination.
Before any lasting harm.
Bobby analyzed you.
You have been given considerable stimulus.
And every opportunity to respond.
Yet fail to even be lukewarm or wet for the occasion.
That argues severe psychosexual dysfunction.

Like any woman who prides herself,
On her determination of emancipation.
Unlike men who don't play hard to get.
You've experimented with a succession of lovers.
None prove satisfying.
Some totally inept.
Others intent on self-gratification.
In other words they got off,
You didn't.
Still others put you on a pedestal.
Great for a poets ego.
But a pedestal is lousy for making love.
Your so easy,
To damn easy for the likes of me.
As plain as day.
To borrow another metaphor.
Tht will be a hundred dollars please.
For a wordslinger,
Like Bobby.
rlh

note;
One does not get a headache from what other people have drunk.....Jack Daniels

Robert Hawkins has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of Robert's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Robert's latest works: