Optimistic Poetry

by on August 29, 2017 :: 0 comments

Optimistic poetry
is as misplaced
as I am in a field
of Pittsburgh
Steeler fans

Who cares about
men in tights
when there’s an
abundance of
women wearing
yoga pants

The verses are
rendered useless
it defeats the
entire purpose
this is supposed
to be cathartic
not a showmanship
of pleasure

You can’t relate
with the women
I’ve had
my standards
surpassed your
expectations

Nobody cares
that I’ve made it
to Andy Warhol’s
old neighborhood
this is my zip code
my personal preference

It’s all about pain
steak knives used
to warm the soul
from a frigid planet

It’s all about
adjectives and
fractured feelings
saving up funds
that would’ve been
spent on therapy

It’s all about me
it’s all about you
but at the end
of the day
it’s a poor excuse
for perseverance
when nobody
is reading
and the same
damn calamities
keep on happening

editors note:

My preoccupation with pleasurable pursuits impairs my perception of your poor excuse. – mh clay

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