OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Listen to me!
I’m a sensitive little poetry boy!
Nobody likes me.
Maybe because I’m too in-yer
Muthafuckin-face-MUTHAFUCKA!
Or   maybe   because   I   breathe
In   between   every   word   I   say.
Or maybe I shock you with my
Darkest sexual secrets.
Like how my mother would put
Her cigarette out on my gonads?
And still does every time I go home for Christmas?
Oh Lord, please!
Please listen to the pathetic poetry boy!
You can see me at every open-mic.
I’ll be sitting in the back. . .
Brooding.
I read the same two poems
I read every week.
Hey, I only wrote them two years 
Ago and they’re both about
My ex-girlfriend from five
Years ago, well, actually she
Wasn’t technically my girlfriend
I was stalking her or at least
That’s what her lawyers say,
I’m totally over her. . .wait,
Is that her?  Across the street?
Oh, my. . .wait, it’s just a mailbox.
And no I don’t slam!  The so-called
Poetry Slam has nothing to
Do with poetry
Not real poetry!
And just because I got booed offstage
Has nothing to do with it!

   Cuz I’m a real poet
   With real emotions
   And real tears

And real shitty poetry
   So fuck off!
You don’t fucking get it!
Get the fuck out of here!
Wait, before you go can I
Read you this poem about how
Much I want to fuck you?
I’m sorry, I mean make sweet
Poetic love to you? Because
I’m a candy-ass-please-don’t-kick
My-ass-nancy-boy.
I’m a lonely, insignificant,
Sensitive little poetry boy
And my notebook is only half full.
   God help me.
   God help us all.

All material copyright the authors, printed with permission.