And so you gave me this book
This journal that looks
Like some old fashioned piece
The kind that they read
In Jane Austin movies
In a package that read
Who I was in your head
Just some idea that you know
Jeremy the poet
And you told me
With such sweet clarity
That the first poem should be
About you and me
Written beautifully
And I thought at the time
That request was divine
I could just die
Rhyming
But the days that march on
Proved just how anonymous
I truly was in your eyes
Just some other guy
With his own shtick
A choice to be picked
There was the guy from the club
The guy who was ugly
But was packin’ the money
The kiss guy like honey
And then there was me
The man you don’t know
But can guess is a poet
Because you saw my show
Reading at an open
Mic night
Bringing a gift to ignite
The interest within
My starving artist skin
Just a number and an age
Just some misbehaved
Radical guy
A little surprising
At times
But that’s it
That’s the extent
Of what you know
About the poet
And so
You told me you loved me
After my show
And reminded me to write a poem
A poem
About what could have been
What happens when
Our hearts begin
Their journey within
One another
Well sadly I must say
That’s not quite the way
It went
With our begin
Came our ending
Because I can’t get stuck
In this fucking
Mess of a world you call home
Without nights alone
Or silent phones
Just texts and sex
And hot messes
You call lovers
Dirty covers
Dirty sheets
Dirty thoughts
About a dirty me
Pimp my world
Pimp my curling
Smoke dance thoughts
Pimp my name as often
As you can
I’m just the poet
And so it seems
The new young thing
No one has seen
Out on top of the scene
Just yet
And you can bet
It’s because I don’t play
The click clichés
And vapid games
You children play
How can it be
It’s up to me
At a ripe twenty
To tell you to grow up
When enough is enough
And it’s time to own up
To that what
Is mature and real
How does that feel
To be unable
To tell that the tables
Have turned
That the grasshopper these days
Gotta teach the sensei
To stare truth in the face
Don’t make me feel old
Like my life is over
The hill and I’m dull
Just because you are full
Of shit and nonsense
I can’t even drink
So why can I think
Before I act
This talent you lack
Despite the fact
That the odds are stacked
In your favor
Savor
This moment, because time’s fast
And I may be the first, but I aint the last
To realize the bullshit you play
And a poet is a bad
One to attack
To try and attract
For the wrong reasons
Because I read on stage
To an audience played
But the countless players
Like you
And as a crowd we all can agree
Aint shit you can do make you worthy
Of a poet like them; a poet like me
So here’s your poem
First in my book
A poem about that shit you pulled
Thinking you were gonna get
Me checked off you list
About how it could have been great
And what could have been made
But turned out to be just another cliché
And you’ll leave without that for which you came
Because I hate a player twice as much as the game
You could have had a poet whisper your name
In passionate sheets in a passionate way
You asked for a poem and a lover that day
But you missed out on love just trying to get laid
