Issue
#18 

November
2011


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a poem by Fiona Helmsley

Poetry's Not Dead

Poetry's not dead it's just been lying low after the damage done
by Ginsberg and his fucking bongos.
Poetry's not dead it just took some time off to recover from Gary
Snyder and his near fatal bird flu.
Poetry's not dead and no longer will abide being dragged out for
suited soirées in the hot summer sun.
Poetry's not dead and no longer will allow its name to be attached
to presidential candidates it in no way supports.
Poetry's not dead and because it reads the tabloids suspects a
porn tape/panty scandal may be just the thing it needs.
Poetry's not dead and though it's done with picnics and rose gardens,
has managed to turn over a brand new fragrant blooming leaf of slut.
Poetry's not dead and has always been the cliff notes to Selby, Bur-
roughs, Kerouac, ad infinitum, yeah you're cool.
Poetry's not dead of course the blacks and homos know this and all
the smart college girls in black glasses too.
Poetry's not dead it's still mourning the AIDS crisis and every year
loses many more to alcohol, drugs and N.A.
Poetry's not dead and if you look closely, thrives in this era of 420
characters or less.
Poetry's not dead have you ever read Puma Perl, David Rat or Jack
Henry when he can keep his head on straight?
Poetry's not dead and you know you should never blame the victim.
Poetry's not dead but asks that you kindly save all excess adjectives
and alliterations for food reviews and children's books.

© by Fiona Helmsley
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #18 ~ November 2011