No One Listens To Poets

Writing madly
     about justice and injustice,
     the inner man and
     outer beauty;
feverishly chronicling
     moods and feelings and
     thoughts and ideas
that make the learned man squirm
and the uninitiated exclaim
     “Oh, isn’t that pretty.”
Giving voice to the intangible,
     form to the unseeable,
     life to the dormant heart;
laying bare his and the soul
     of countless others
     that couldn’t give a damn
          or know that they give a damn.
Rejected by publishers of prose,
     or given their share
     of thirty pieces of silver
to lay down and play dead.
Lauded at death
     as prophetic
          after it doesn’t matter;
given their place in history
     when all they really needed
     was enough to pay
     the light bill.





2003