xomainc

In Response I Give You Nothing But Crap.


You asked if i know what its like to be the elephant in the room.
Look at me, I wear a trench coat, scarf and goggles,
Like a wannabe prophet of doom.
I write crappy poems and regugitate shit that I've heard others perform.
But with a lack of vocabulary in my dictionary
Like my toiletries are all gone.
It leaves a foul taste in my mouth,
And probably in yours.
Theres a horrible smell in the air...
I'm pretty sure I just washed these clothes.
But that elephant is still here
And hes staring at me with wild eyed fear.
Terrified to be heard and speak his mind.
As if what he says will just be another turd out of his behind.

And the funny part about all this art and all this rhyme
Is that I feel like half this shit I spout is just a waste of your time.
You see, im that elephant in the room
That you dissmissed too soon
Because you'd like to assume
I'm just nothing more than a washed up loon
Who swoons at the sound of his puny little tune.
My rhymes are crap. My timing worse.
My words are the lifeless passangers of this lyrical herse.
Nothing I said just now has any real importance.
I wish i could kill this rhyming scheme in earnest.
Become a great poet who gets quoted in open-mic coffee house sessions.
Or in books, in blogs, in movies and television credits.
But this elephant is standing on my back
And the fact that its fat weights heavily on my mind
Attacks the impact of my nact
For this uninterupted line of rhyme.
Its cheesy, its pathetic,
And im sure all of you poets get it.
But I dont get it,
And pretty often feel like I never will...
So forget it.