Not Much Nutrition in Poetry Jerky–A Poem

Listen.  I know this is up late and it might not even be Thursday for some of you anymore.  😦  (Sorry about that.)

My excuse?  I was watching old western movies and eating McDonald’s with my grandparents.  I think anyone would miss the mark by an hour or so for that.  (Also my laptop was dead when I got home.)

ANYWAYS.  Here’s the poem I whipped up today.  ❤

Not Much Nutrition in Poetry Jerky

There isn’t much left to a
girl like me that dabbles in
dried words. Poetry jerky—
poetically jerking a pen around
until the ink looks just right on
a page that would rather still
be blank and not bloody. Jerks
don’t die—they keep coming back
like weeds in a coal mine==the
smoke will clog your nasals no
matter how you smoke it—what
you’re smoking. Smoked jerky
will only make you feel better on
the    i  n  h  a  l  e
but the exhale will burn your lungs
a bright blue scream in the dark—
bloody and blank and bland like a
poem gone wrong because
nothing was left to write.

 

Hey, so I hope you liked it!  Thanks for reading! 🙂

Have a good night everyone!  And watch an old western movie if you want to make my grandparents proud!  ❤ haha

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