Redneck

January 9, 2009 in Uncategorized
Tags: poetry

Poetry is this thing, you know?

This representation of the poets soul.

An unadulterated, unmolested, pure and untouched glimpse

Into the mind and body of the poet.

A poet will gather these pieces of their soul,

Collecting,

Categorizing,

And storing them for future use,

With the hope that one day these feelings, emotions, and thoughts

Will be released through written or spoken word,

And like a small white dove this window into the poet’s soul flies into the skies

Only to be shot by some drunk-ass redneck hunter with a brand new twelve gage shotgun.

See, that bird be confused as hell. ‘Bout as confused as Michael Jackson about his age,

A blind man about his sight,

And OJ Simpson on where the hell he was that night.

You can’t just pour yourself out onto the paper and expect someone to understand you?

Nah fool you dumb as hell!

See, we all be some confused ass people, we don’t need no more metaphors,

No more meters, themes, beats and rhyme schemes, nah.

What you need to do is write poetry for yourself, and don’t let no body else read that shit.

‘Cause it may be good to you. But I can guarantee you that there is some drunk-ass redneck hunter with a brand new twelve gage shotgun ready to shoot that damn bird down.

These thoughts and emotions you are trying to convey to us are already confusing enough,

You don’t need to confuse us anymore.

You just want us to feel you? Then sit down right here and let me tell you how to do it.

You listenin’?

Just take a slip of paper and write down the emotion you feelin’.

I don’t care if you confused just write down “Confusion.”

That a way, when you tell someone yo poetry, they can feel you.

They can think of all the things that made them mad,

When they husband or wife cheated on them,

When they boss fired them for no reason,

When that asshole at McDonalds didn’t give you no fries,

And when that drunk-ass hunter shot your poem out of the skies.