Wednesday, August 5, 2009

To Write a Poem

Write some poetry, you say.
I really wish it worked that way. 

If there was only one heartbeat there
Between my desires and the reality lair,
I would be a millionaire. 

I would have closets of clothes, and a house on the moon,
Eat chocolate in bed with a big golden spoon,

Walk around with a stick up my ass, and a feathered hat, 
Make sure my servants wiped their feet on the mat.

I would cover the walls in thick purple ink,
And simply replace, rather than wash, that dirty sink.

I would ride in my luxury car around town. 
And from up high, look at all the people down.

I would be branded as the very best
When being compared to all the rest.

All would look upon me with awe and respect. 
It would become simply a matter of fact. 

I would be a well-renowned writer,
Rather than some kind of a losing fighter. 

The word "publishing" will no longer have power,
And life will be nothing more than a sweet-scented flower.

But this is far from reality, dear.
And I am not a writer, I fear. 

To write a poem is not simple, not simple at all,
And I don't think I'm up to the challenge this Fall. 

Look for another, perhaps a stronger nut, 
Who will not allow himself to be cut. 

I will go on then, I guess, if I must;
I'll admit, it is there, this lust. 
Nevermind the cost. 

Call me an impostor; I suppose you will.
I will continue, though, to get my thrill. 

And die a painful death by the light of the moon.
It comes slow; I know not how soon. 


  1. awesome! deep and sarcastic all at the same time! will be fun looking back at it some day, when you in fact are driving around in a luxury car and replacing dirty sinks instead of washing them... when publishing is not an issue etc etc...

    by the way, i want to use this opportunity to congratulate you with your first published work! great job Inna! i am really proud and happy for you! you will succeed.

  2. hehe, the future alone will tell what we're going to laugh (and cry) about in the future!