steop

i'm sure
once
a lot
of poets
get into
a
room
together
and
start
spouting
that it's
too much
and that's
backwards,
which is
why the word
poets backwards
is steop!

hello poetry,

it's me again.

here to wade over
your
dream catcher
and set to
get stuck like
a bug in your
sappy web.

i delve into your
moneyless waters
once again knowing
that i will never
make money off
such a craft as this.

and again i realize
it's a relationship
fueled by zinging red hearts
cause there is nothing
more than
this spate
where i pull my
archer's arrow high
and try to
hit the center
of the center dot
once again.

you will sit there
with a penniless
mouth
reminding me of
a world void of money
and humans without
genitals.

you give me notions
of how to capture ideas
like how we may
all be chewing into
more meat with bits
of bone and bread
with hard crunchies
cause there are honing devices
being put into our
food by the friendly
government pals
we put into power.

then you come back to
remind me how
i can understand the origins
of this malady down here
if i just listen
to the breath of my
son in silence
as he roars through dreams
his wordless tongue
will not be able to
speak to me.

and you always
offer me a used
and empty wallet
that makes me smile.

you are the one thing
that requires no money,
and spends none,
and makes me none.

and if the day comes
that you begin changing
your selfless ways,
many more will find this
missive and i may be
sorry that you
innocent cloak has been
exposed.

oh my
dear friend poetry.

run and hide ..

.. for i would never want them
to catch you this way
with wandering dollar signs
and
selfish sweat socks.