“I will never show people what I've written years ago. Today I write things that will never be seen outside my backup drive.”
--Charlene April 2010
The above comment, is one that Charlene made on my site yesterday when I posted about poetry. I totally understand it.
It’s fine to be funny or even feign humor, because it gives one an out. I do that on a daily basis. I am at heart, a satirist…a court jester…a spinner of humorous yarns.
But…while I do many times, talk about serious subjects, I have to inject humor into it. That way, if people don’t like it, I can always say, “I was just being funny.”
It’s my defense mechanism.
Well my response to Charlene was roughly, “Aw c’mon, post some stuff out. Quit being such a puss.” Okay I didn’t say that, but it was along those lines.
And then I thought…“What about you, Matt-Man? Why don‘t you do it too, ya big pussy?”
So to wit, and heretofore, a sampling of my more “serious” poetry. One of my faves is a four line poem that I wrote years ago…
‘Neath the purpling, swirling haze of Autumn
The languid cry of the last cicada
Weaves a dirge with an orphaned cricket
As fields lie barren from stream to thicket.
And then I have the following…
Forty Six Cents
Randy, like clockwork
scours the dumpster in search of redemption on a Sunday.
With the precision of a metallurgist he eyes the metal and says,
“This is my last stop.”
With his grocery carts in hand
Unknowingly, he pushes them down the road to perdition
And with the abandon of a gnarled, urban nomad, he says,
Randy avails himself to the man.
The man says, “forty six cents per pound.”
To which Randy says,
“Can’t you give me a few cents more”
“Come back tomorrow” the man he states,
"It’ll be fifty three cents a pound then."
To which Randy replies…
"I’d like to wait for the price increase,
But today, I gotta eat."
Unexpectedly, I get to work 10-9 again today!! Call me the Beer King, Bitches!!