A poem is a poem is a poem
And as I try to fit the abstract nonsense syllables of my brain into candy wrapper bite sizes so that my words will be easier for you to chew up and swallow I find myself marveling
Marveling at just how much pen and paper can come together and create something so beautiful, so lyrical
so perpetually full of bullsh*t that I’m surprised your nose hairs haven’t curled in on themselves
my poetry
is not for adoration
my poetry
is not for your enjoyment
my poetry isn’t a fluffy bunny
sweet smelling flower
pink stuffed animal rainbow
you will not enjoy this
it will not be over quickly
I am not a poet
But a messenger
And you will accept the words that I give you
You will accept the shock that I give you
You will accept the outrage
The horror
The pain
The unavoidable
The uncontrollable knowledge that
A poem is a poem is a poem
Not something to be analyzed
Not a thing to be nullified
The revolution
Will not be televised
And neither will this poem.