Saturday, March 20, 2010

Conceit and Philosophy

I am a poet
she says
and a thousand poets smile with her

You cannot say that
he says
and her smile vanishes with his

Her heart questions him
why not
Why can I not speak of who I am

His words remind her
why not
Poets don't know what or who they are

But then who could say
I am
If to be is also not to know

That's not what I said
he thinks
You don't understand what I'm saying

But I think I do
You said
I can not say who I know I am

I'd rather you not
is all
You're just really conceited sometimes

She feels all alone
I thought
you were being philosophical

Don't be mad at me
he sighs
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings

I never said that
I was
angry or that my feelings were hurt

It's so obvious
that I've
offended you and your poetry

Her mind wanders off
I do not know what poetry is

You're being absurd
The rhyme or measure of written word

I am just kidding
I know
I was being philosophical

You are a smart ass
You think
you know everything all the time

Why would you say that
she asks
I was just trying to be funny

He lightens the mood
I know
You're about to start your period

What did you just say

I said you're about to start your period

Am I hearing you

You are this way right before you start
You kind of lose it

She asks
so I lose it right before I start

Usually yes
I'm just
saying you're being sensitive

Let me get this straight


No I really want to understand

Don't be difficult

I'm not

I am just being realistic

So me being a
is somehow not a reality

Oh get over it

she looks
away and wonders about true love

He takes her picture

She speaks
I don't know what else to do or say
I'm just being me

I know

So you know when I am being me

I am exhausted

Because I was about to say the
same but then it
would mean
that I wasn't exhausted at all

Can we start over
I mean
it's obvious I can't win this fight

She touches her face
We are both wrong I am a poem

1 comment:

Kara Bibb said...

I love. I love words and beauty and diction and measure. I love the idea of understanding things in perfect order. I order perfect understanding of the idea in things. Sometimes I am meticulous. Most of the time I am completely superfluous. And every once in a great while...we are all perfect.

Post a Comment