From “A Fine Line”

When they declare themselves bards

They are phony

When they don’t

They are untalented

When they let others declare it

They are arrogant


Sons of bitches

Who want to fuck 18-year-olds


The bitter pen

The overused quill

Is a bitter pill

We need to have experienced heartache



How else can one write?

Having a job

Buying a car

A condo

Going to be gym

These superfluously malignant activities

Lead to spreadsheets

To accountants

Poets are the suffering

The real soothsayers

The truthseekers


Live honestly



Write anytime

Just do it

Paint a picture of your mind


I write of women

Of war



But most of all

I take your soul

Tie it up

Squeeze it

And serve it to you in indecipherable prose


The meek inherit nothing

The rich die, as do the poor

But they had a richer life, in theory

Give up your vile texts!!!

Restore yourself to glory

Give everything up

Join the movement to happiness

For a bard is always elated

No matter how dreary the circumstance

As long as he can create



Just live vicariously

And read this

From the posh living room chair
Copyright Ted Kouretas 2001

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