Tuesday, November 24, 2009
I'm a poet, I know it. I think I'm gonna blow it
A toxic teacher at Ryerson U, for some arcane reason of his own, kept handing my copy, rejecting a lot of it, and telling me, "You're all talent and no judgment."
Maybe he was right. Here is a poem I just pulled out of my back pocket.
Beware of Mary, wicked lass
She won't show you much money
But she'll invite you to her place
To feed you gin and honey
But you're simple Slavic guy
You don't ask at all the why
And you just jabber and spill your mind
What revelry this is, you say.
And you're simple Ukie dude
And your behaviour is so rude
Come from Alberta, bubbling crude
You need to caper, to be lewd.
You think you're great,
a boozy lecher
As on the couch you start to stretch her
You, poor old idiot savant
Who's spouting Socrates and Kant.
But Mary's foils are suble, sly
And you're a pretty simply guy
Despite your grandeur, oh so Slavic
And you free speech polysyllabic.
"Get off me you thin social climber.
Upon this Wasp you'll never lie
You mixed up idiot savant
Who's spouting Socraties and Kant.
"And here's your raincoat and your shoes
Thoughfully picked by laber, Hart.
Youre aspirations can be seen
You're really not that fuggin' smart."
So if you're ever down at Mary's
And social climbing is your game
give up those foible, feints and ploys
You'll end up drinking with the boys.
...Odd things are produced when your are out of cigarettes and booze...Hell, and even cooze. :)