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the trubble with poets

by David Suter

The trubble with poets is that they're perpetually perceived as being ego-testicle: that's 'Balls out' for all to see. Artists of syllable if you will.
Unafraid to bare all. Known to sometimes crawl six legged from the dregs of dictionary into the minds of the young and needy for answers in a world where there aren't any.
The trubble with poets is they actually know cos' it comes from somewhere deep inside the horses mouth on an incoming tide. it's just that their sad-arsed lives have been sacrificed in order to get their message across to those with waxy ears and half a mind who want to know but don't want to...know what I mean? If not, just smile as if you do or alternatively you could turn a blind eye for ignorance is missed where mere mortals may say that they're probably gay cos' they've been known to wear silly beret's.
Lend me your ears and I'll cut off my nose despite the blank look on your perplexed face at the boredom of prose.
The trubble with poets is...they talk a load of shit but the good thing about this is they actually believe it for all that it's worth for without belief how can the good word be heard? How can you walk on burning coals when you don't believe it won't burn?
And so in turn it is for the struggling poet.
Bombarded by a rainfall of verse & word & pseudonyms and dubble meanings, sometimes meaning it and sometimes not. But then Hey - 'That's a poet for ya'.
Some use a thousand words to say wot they may never tell a soul while others say only three, leaving you hot icy cold. Some do drugs, some do religion, some do it all, some do nothing, some do you. Some give up their day jobs in the hope that they too will be like that amazing NEW potato peeler - as seen on TV. But the one thing they have in common is they're just like you and me.