I'd entertain you with a poem,
But I've lost your attention.
Because poems don't move or make a noise,
They don't offer the instant gratification that you desire.
They don't stroke your ego with a plethora of praise.
They've lost their generational appeal.
Words, in their fine black and white
Must be strung together by master craftsmen,
To claw at the boundaries of your attention.
A master craftsman I am not.
But the only way you'd know that is if
every thing they've said about you is wrong.
YOU ARE READING
Aesthetics
PoetryI felt it was time for a new beginning, so I've restarted my collection of poems. Feedback is encouraged.
