Throwback Thursday

I’ve been kicking the idea around for awhile lately, to put some of my older work online. I don’t go back to it often enough and more often than not try to brush it under the rug, like, “Nooooooo, I didn’t write crappy weepy poetry in my youth! I’m soooooo refined!”

A friend even recommended the idea of editing and updating some of it for this site, which is something I hadn’t thought of. So, for however long it lasts, I dub Thursdays “Throwback Days” and I’ll regale you with potentially horrifying early forays into my poetry. No rhyme or reason or chronological order. Hopefully it will help me and entertain you. We begin:

What I’ve Been Reduced To
It’s the factory work
of a pompous jerk
who used to have talent
and now has to plan it
like a badly plotted course
from a misguided source
armed with a dictionary
cuz all pure thought is buried
under years of doubt
that pain sought out
and massacred gladly
gutted sadly
took all useful thought
and every battle fought
till there wasn’t any other way
to say what I needed to say
besides factory work
of a pompous jerk
buried in cliche
hidden away
from the message that meant
the tears were well spent
and now it’s just junk
where my prowess sunk
to a level I never thought I’d see
maybe there aren’t any words left in me.

This is one of the last poems I wrote before I gave up writing poetry, before picking it up again a few years back. Oy.


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