Slingshot …by Christopher Robin

VCity (6)(2)

The poetry of the streets has a slingshot
aimed right at your cozy metaphor
the poetry of damaged youth
whizzes by on a skateboard
with a perpetual hard on for Lady Luck
but she won’t flash her tits
for just anyone
the poetry of no risk
refuses to get a tattoo
just in case it
decides one day to
get a real job
and can finally move out of mothers basement
the poetry of contemplating garden snails
has too long admired its own belly button
the poetry of self-infatuation
will honor itself with a 15 minute parade
while the patrons of the Open
Mic try to chew their own legs off
the ghost of Joey Ramone runs
with scissors through the gardens of nostalgia
snipping the dead-heads
from warbling hippie roses
the poetry of the streets says:
here is a bag lady
with a head full of wind chimes
throw your sonnets out the window
and feed her-
the poetry of the streets
turned Lenny Bruce into Christ
timeless poetry knows deep down
the time is now
but flesh and time are both liars
and that God
does not really love the meek-
and only the slam poets
will inherit the earth

3 Responses to “Slingshot …by Christopher Robin”

  1. the slam poets can have the earth…i sure as shit don’t want it

    mucho bueno as always, mi amigo

  2. Joie Cook Says:

    …the poetry of joie is manic one minute & mellow
    the next–some for the page, some for the rant–
    the rest left over for slammers to skid on and break
    some serious bones…(thanks c.r., interesting piece)

  3. Charles P. Ries Says:

    Zen Master
    The one who has come
    To Save us Again
    The wise are willing

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