Every word will be carefully selected

so as not to offend

it leaves us with, “the”, “it”— possibly offensive, “they”—that’s really bad

the English language is held hostage by terrorists

the greatest poets, read themselves to sleep, and they don’t try to wake-up the world.

I find myself, a victim of circumstance, or should I say, a victim of myself.

In a recent rejection letter, the editor said, “Dear Mr. Johnson, were you trying to be confusing?”

When I go over to my friend’s house, his mother puts her fingers in her ears while I talk

His sisters are fixing-him-up on dates now, because he’s a nice guy.

“Was I, not a nice guy?” He asked me.

“You’ve always been nice,” I said. “It’s just the way women define nice. Before— you didn’t have a PhD, and you didn’t speak French, and you hadn’t lived in Europe, and you didn’t have a job at Google, and you were living with your mother, and no woman would date you. Now, you have a hot girlfriend, and your sisters want to hook their friends up with you, because you are nice.”

“My sister is always busting your balls,” my friend said. “Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care—and that’s why, or you don’t care?”

“I don’t care.”

Sometimes, not being understood is a luxury. The famous are tortured by attention, and everybody wants to be tortured. I just want to be able to lie in bed and write the next line. And the worst feeling for me, is to be bored, and not to be able to do anything about it.

13 thoughts on “The Offensive Poet

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