Both shallow and weak are the monikers
fit me to a T, labels I have earned.
Daily do I write, search for attention,
long to be noticed; stab you with my pen.
Positions I take, issues I discuss,
though they are sincere long for praise’s rush.
How shallow the man daily must perform
just to get a “Like?” Hate to be ignored.
Giants all around to whom I look up:
Know I’m just a hack; write prolific fluff.
Feel a little pang, green eyed monster stirs,
to base emotion; ‘fraid I’m not inured.
Sad enough to feel jealous others gifts
but praise for BS really gets me ticked.
Read a piece du jour that’s but kitchen slop
that earns lots of praise; gets my dander up!
Cannot see the stars twinkling in the night
because my vision isn’t focused right.
Myopically stare at my printed page,
wonder what I lack to get raging praise.
Irony’s not lost that I’m judge, jury
of what’s good and bad that’s presented me.
Inside I’m hollow like the scarecrow’s chest
mea culpaing is poem’s confess.
Gonna leave it here, I’ve story to write,
truth and fiction mix of the darkest type.
Looking through the eyes of my younger son
at the man his dad sadly has become.
Both shallow and weak are the monikers
fit me to a T, labels I have earned.
Daily do I write, search for attention,
long to be noticed; stab you with my pen.