Decisive Execution

To be honest,
I hate poetry.
I suppose I should rephrase that.
What I hate,
no,
abhor,
is modern poetry.
This sort of
pretentious
putrid pile of pathetic
passages that plague potentially passable
poetry.
It goes something like this,

“A man who hurts you
doesn’t love you.”

No shit.

Or perhaps,
my other personal favorite,

“You were mine.
And then you left
and all I have
are your lies.”

Just,
stop.

When I read poetry
the last thing I want to read
is the same old song dance.

I want to be able to hear
how the very sound
of his or her name
ignites within you the primal spark
of Creation itself,
for if we are made in the god’s image
what better way to pay tribute
than to love deeply
another reflection of the gods?

I want to be able to feel
how the slightest brush
of their hand against your skin
sets your cells ablaze
as the air in your lungs is take from you
and you aren’t sure if you should breathe
or dare one more touch.

I want to be able to taste
the fresh-pressed coffee
off of their lips
as you drink them in
one cool November morning
and you cannot remember a time
when you felt more alive.

Mediocrity is found
among many things.

Don’t let it into your poetry.

~lt