Words can make us squeamish!

In response to a poem I read (the inappropriate words were in the poem) which is why I wrote this

The one thing I do not like too often in your poems is not that they are so sterile and clean and boring (which they are) but that they are so uppity and elitist with big words that no one has any idea what they mean including you when you use them because one, someone told you this is a good way to write good poetry and because two, you believed them and did it. And I love in an “are you serious”, “did you really just use” words like “bitch” and “fuck” and “shit” as if to make us all think and feel you are forceful and cutting and dirty and in touch with your poetry by using these words which don’t mean a thing other than your poetry sucks. If you are going to use words like “bitch” and “fuck” and “shit” in a poem these words must be used to paint a landscape of realms connecting the fantasy and reality, the here and there, the metaphysical union and disunion of your very next breath spilled onto the page. Don’t use words like these filled with a toxic venom as though by using them you have gained some sort of “cred” while in reality you sit in your ivory tower of false judging and lies having no idea what the real world is. Give me the poems scribbled on alcohol stained napkins in an all night diner with coffee dripping from the corners written with blood, sweat and tears after being beaten up by the gangsters and thugs of life who have no compassion for the scarred-calloused souls trying to make a living one wrongly dealt hand after another yet who somehow see the beauty of it all found in the every day to day mundane routine and cycles which follow the patterns of the seasons. It is this kind of poetry I want to read which shreds the soul to a reality only known to the living and seeing and doing and not in using stupid ignorant words for no other reason than to impress for as is all too well known or at least should the least impressive words of all are words used in ill-conceived ways only to impress.

Breathe

Want to savor the banquet

then DEVOUR life

So much can be blessed

CARESS what can’t

Always looking for a way

to FIND a way

Memory is the elixir

RECALLING actions and words

Rather than SEEKING advice

Who is to say some of the best

doesn’t come from the LOST

For after all

how they are the PUREST

Hidden in the files

are recipes for SOULS

Rarely can they be read

with the CLARITY of a manual

Perhaps the best approach

is the ZEN approach to living

Be patient, calm, breathe

let the BANQUET come to you

Allow imagination to paint

to PARSE an image is to lessen its power

Appreciating the simple things

will fill the EMPTY spaces