Maybe it’s because I hate poetry
Who’ll love them anyway
They’re encrypted
Can’t tell what they meant
All that metonymy, irony, anthropomorphism
Hyperbole, synecdoche, paradox, and apostrophe
Iambic, trochaic, anapestic and anemic
What are they but highfaluting air
Useful for voodoo spell
But not for interpreting and writing how one felt
All that old English
That only the ancient understood
All that deep Filipino words
That only the martyr spoke
Are used for artistry
But in reality
They’re nothing but sophistry
The grammatical violations
With unconventional punctuations
Together with syntactical creations
Might as well write encryptions
For the French US Navy ng mga Hapon
Yeah, they can quote Frost and his road not taken
Or Dylan Thomas and the non dominion of death
Or Poe and his bells
But that does not mean they have culture
For culture is appreciation
And not pretension
Oh! All that love ballads
Inspired by hormonal imbalance
But after the ejaculation’s done
The girls will realize
That they’re nothing but formulas
For getting pregnant
I hate poetry for I know
That no matter what I do
No matter what I read
I can’t write a serious poem
For I believe that a serious poem
Is a poem not written by me
For serious poems are written by dead people
meandering thoughts of an aging grade school music teacher who recently rediscovered the joys of cycling
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