Preference is Not Law

I am not a philosopher

but a social commentator.

I don’t deal in theories

and pie-high sky,

tie-dye, die-cast ideas.

I’m a shameless

English-language brutalist

with an eye for metaphor

and an ear for internal rhymes.

-

The bear may tear out my hair,

but if you dare step to me poetically,

then I shall stare thee down

and scare your soul —

ashamed it will be to show its face

in this or any place,

or liminal space.

-

There seems a misunderstanding

in form over formless expressions,

a question of laziness and ease

in weaving words free from the confines

of structure and tradition.

Any idiot with a pen can draft

a hogwash dishwash of stacked allusions

and petty allegories,

but then any dipshit can rhyme bear

with tear — hair, dare, stare, and scare.

-

Tell me my poetic arc

is weak abstraction,

that my cadence

is as off-meter as a drunkard

dancing with his bollocks

blowing in the wind —

but don’t dictate

the rules on preference.

*

Thanks for reading.

Author’s Notes: Mostly water I am, but not a philosopher. I welcome dissent and confrontation.