Oh Eliah you old heff -
Coming in with stale beer breath,
That I could abide.
But, I have to chastise
You spittin flies eggs across the room
When you oughta be clearing up the place.
Ess pesh when One glob stuck to my face
And hatched. I was bright orange with anger.
Crystallised in shuddering amber
‘I’m gonna come out and say it,
I know you all have been thinking it,
Poetry is better than fiction’
Ooooh you piece of shit, said internal diction
And I repeated ‘Piece of shit’
Under my breath a bit;
Curse words wasted and impotent
On such beings caught in the moment
You are better than this Eliah
Donut be one of those eye-fliers
I can see the buttons on the waistband
Of your blue jeans are not hand-in-hand,
I can see the buttons on your brown shirt
Donut see eye-to-eye but (I blurt),
To the poet’s mouth, that talk is empty
And to the poem’s ears, twice as deadly
You’re supposed to be threading, not cutting ties
Just look at those black boxes neath the class’s eyes:
All the creatives here brought their own bags
Don’t fill them with more shit.
