This weekly poetry series starts here today, and will continue every Monday throughout July except for next week. It’s meant to show that I have depth too. Shhhhheeeeet! I’ve got lots of it. I go way down.
The poem that came to mind is not some obscure remnant of some insightful individual. That’s just not a good way to make mass market poetry, which is the only kind that makes a scalable financial return. Indeed, this is a Facebook entry of unknown origin, so that Facebook itself might someday be able to monetize it. (Facebook has indeed advanced its ability to monitor entries to provide carefully targeted ads to users.* Can it be long before it claims ownership of all content?)
I think of the poem as Homeric.
Roses are red.
Bacon is also red.
Poems are hard.
Bacon.
______________
*Perhaps this explains the emails I get from sexy, horny, lonely Russian women.
Piece of Mindful 
There once was a man from Tehran
Who ruled with whip in his hand
Sharia in place
Hastened disgrace
Laid layers of glass overland
LikeLike
There once was a guy we call Swede
Who said “links – that is all that I need!”
But when he found out
That the world’s full of doubt
He said “Shit, I guess I must read!”
LikeLike
I’ve heard imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
LikeLike
Indeed. What you do with poetry I cannot touch, much less imitate in a serious fashion. This is just s little homage to a part of the literary life that has always been beyond my grasp.
LikeLike