Crucified by Lack of Talent

Crucified by lack of talent,

He lashes out at the establishment

Of academic aristocracy

That fails to see his significance

Or genius, wrapped in the unoriginal

Sentimental longings for the past,

When vagueness concealed lack of depth

And pretentiousness would win a large

Audience, but no siree, no cigar --

His bullshit doesn't fly these days

With a more discerning and sophisticated

Audience, who knows the difference

Between some grandma's clumsy verses

For her grandkids and a more serious

Type of work, that requires a bit of

Thinking, but he just shoots off his mouth

About being some bold revolutionary,

Beheaded and crucified by rigid dogmas

Of his academic peers, who view

His bullshit with a skeptical reserve,

For he is as original as a marshmallow,

Toasting in a fireplace on a Christmas Eve,

And only the ignorant are impressed

By his lack of depth or substance --

For he's just a poetic Santa Claus

Or Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer,

Hiding behind a martyred persona,

Trying to pass for some Nietzsche or

Schopenhauer to the clueless housewives

And Jesus-enamored senior citizens,

Animal rights activists, new age weirdos,

And look-at-me-out-of-the-closet gays

And lesbians -- but it's just a circus

Of hacks and ne'erdowells, shooting off

Their agendas from their soap boxes,

Who have no interest in the esthetic

Aspects of art or poetry, where all writers

Are talentless hacks and all poets

Are loudmouths like some insurance

Salesmen or game show hosts, and it

Doesn't take long to see that it all

Amounts to just more noise and who

Can shout the loudest in the crowd

Of self-important fools.

                        February 5, 2007

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